Almost...

To almost connect...

but not quite. 

Time...& again.

And again. 


And...


etc

Watch The Skies...

Is there an emoticon for 'feeling inept'? 

I don't think I have felt so inept in such a long, long time.  Not since I was in school. 

If I keep on moving...keep travelling...just keep swimming...I'm generally able to outrun most negative feelings. 

But tonight...I feel unbelievably inept. 

No other word for it. 

Like I have no clue wtf I'm doing. 

I think if an alien spacecraft feels like picking someone up and doing experiments on their orifices...

I could use some kind of external stimuli. 

Just once...

I would LOVE for something to drop out of the sky and transport me to a magical new world of wonder and excitement. 

Just once...

I'd like to not have to drive the bus all by myself. 

I mean...I can do it...HAVE done it forever...

but DAMN!! 

(am I being overly ungrateful, do you think???) 

Everybody's In.

My very best wishes to those who are looking for love...

to those who have found love... 

and to everyone in between...

A Paid Political Broadcast on Behalf of my Inner Child...

Damn. 

The more I blog about my experiences as a child growing up in a violent household...the more I find other people who have been through the exact same thing. 


WTF???

Anyone here NOT been molested or tortured in their youth???



I have a dream. 

It's a simple dream. 

I don't want to build cities in space, or websites that cure cancer.  I don't want money or prizes. 

Fans, fortune or fame.


I just want adults to leave children the fuck alone. 

Keep your fists, your pricks, your filthy ideas to yourself, you diseased motherfuckers. 


& the mothers?

Once you have been fucked...

Don't hang around and let him keep fucking you or your family!!


Have the balls to stand up for your children.


If you aren't prepared to DIE to protect your children?

Then you have NO RIGHT to call yourself a Mother.


Mother? 

Father?

If you can't treat children right...

DON'T HAVE THEM!!

And if you can't behave decently toward them when you HAVE had them...then get some fucking counselling. 


Aunts, Uncles, Stepfathers, Cousins...

Priests, teachers...

WHATEVER...

If you can't leave them alone??


DON'T GO NEAR THEM!

INSTEAD OF DISCIPLINING THE CHILDREN...

TRY A LITTLE SELF DISCIPLINE!!!
 
& if you can't handle that- for whatever reason...then for heaven's sake find a quiet place to die. 


Don't infect innocent children with your bullshit. 

You might only fuck a child for five minutes...

But trust me...

You do that...you fuck them for life.


Everyone deserves a chance. 

Everyone.

LEAVE...THE FUCKING CHILDREN...ALONE.

One Story.

all these people.  

all these places.  

all these stories.


it's funny how- on some level...

a subconscious level...

they all feel like the same person, 


place...


and story.


i guess that's because they ARE.
 





 

I Sweat The Small Stuff.

The other day, someone asked me what book I was reading.


My first thought was to give them a list...

a list of book titles I thought might impress them. 

NOT what I was actually reading. 


I didn't want to tell them I was reading a book about UFO's...

I wanted to say I was reading something classy.


Why?

I guess a latent desire to be liked.

I was so starved for affection as a child...

I would do anything for the slightest scrap of approval,

I guess I haven't changed much.

I considered making something up to win their approval.

At the expense of my own self respect.


This is called a LIE.

It's not a fib. 

It's not a half-truth.

It's not a 'white' lie...(whatever the fuck that means...)


It's an ordinary, everyday garden variety LIE.

Like those elusive WMD's.


This lie about what I'm reading might seem tiny, insignificant, harmless to you...

But to me?

It means everything.


See...a man's brain...


Sorry. 

Let me start again.

See...MY brain...

learned to lie as a young child.

As a child...

If my father challenged me about something I was alleged to have done?  & I did not do it??

I would tell the truth. 


'I didn't do it Dad'!! 

& I still got beaten just as hard. 


It wasn't long before I realised...

when I was accused of doing things I DID do...

I got beaten just the same.

To say I did do it when I didn't or vice versa actually became one and the same in the chaos of violence.

The arbitrary choices I made about what I actually SAID to my father became dependent on the level of terror and trauma...

so I wailed whatever came to mind in that moment of agony...

& in the process, this cruel interrogation and punishment ritual essentially blurred the line between truth and lies for the rest of my life. 

I figured...If I am going to be beaten just as severely no matter whether I tell the truth or I lie...

What the hell does it matter?

Like it or not...

I have carried this crap with me into adulthood.

Not an excuse...just an observation.


Dad is dead now.

He died last year.

He can't beat me any more.


It's safe now. 

Safe enough to re-learn the distinction between a lie and the truth again.

Because, let's face it...

This distinction is really all we have to keep us going nuts.

Forget the government, law enforcement, the courts...

It's not about them. 

Dad was a lawyer...and he told me...'it's all a game anyway'.

It doesn't matter in court who did what, and who said what.

It's a game of chance.

Arbitrary.


What really matters...is that you are TRUE TO YOURSELF.

No matter what. 

No matter how small or insignificant that truth might seem...

Truth is truth...

& a lie is a lie. 

One little white lie...

& the next thing you know, you are lying about everything again, like it doesn't matter. 

Just to avoid the sting of consequence. 


IT DOES MATTER. 

Even on pain of death...

It matters.


In fact, actually...

It's probably ALL that really matters.  
  
 
Yes, I sweat the small stuff.


& now you know why...

Call Me Daffy...

You may call me a daffy motherfucker...

But I try to maintain a childlike sense of wonder.   

 

For Everything.

ALL of it.


Including the fucked up shit. 
 
That includes my own strange craziness...

& that of my beloved fellow man.


What the hell else am I going to do?
 
 
WHO- may I ask- wants to be around a miserable prick bitching about the state of the world when there is NOTHING he can do about it?

Probably nothing ANY of us can do about it??

When all that is left in my power is to marvel at the whole damn carnival with a childlike sense of wonder...

then goddamn it?

I'm gonna' do just that.
 
 
You can join me if you like...