So, first time blogging blogger. My ground rules? Im not here for likes and popularity, or a soul mate or any of those things I have come across in blogs. Not here to give any answers or heart breaking, gut wrenching pieces of advice. I'm doing this to put my words in a place I wont friggin lose them. I've written hundreds upon hundreds of thoughts down on paper of all sizes and colors, and how many hundreds of pieces of paper do you think I still have? Some of those pieces of paper I wish I still had, like the exact poem I wrote the day my father died. Little things like that, that have just somehow slipped away, and so have the words.
If anyone bumps in to this, or comes across it or whatever, feel free to comment, leave a splat but please don't expect any serious feedback from me. Life happens on a day to day basis. What I say today may not be how I feel tomorrow. How i react today may not be who I will be tomorrow. Everything changes, and a lot faster than we sometimes think. For now, I'm going to post everything I do have on hand, no particular date or order, at least I know where it is. Ill work on this dam pages spelling and auto correct later. Have fun.
2014
The poisons out there. All this time taught to share, and
care, and give away everything. But its all a lie. You give it all away and
find yourself nowhere. You had to stay. You had to bay the howling of your soul
and bite the bitter pill of a society that told you hush.
I've become as bitter as the sweet sensation of success. I
have changed in to the person who does not give a dam and carries on like its
all a game. I thought it would be easy, I thought they didnt care in that
life. But they do. They care for themselves absolutely. Their own gain, their
own pride or game or gain, all selfish reasons. I tried not to care, and I
learned how not to care. But I don’t like who I am. I could sit and watch the
fire burn for an eternity. I love its enduring, tenacious love. Its appetite,
its being who it is without regard or discrimination. How it just is what it is
and no one ever told it who it should be. And if anyone ever did tell it, how
it carried on just being fire, and the world learned to live with that. Fire
burns, its what it does. Such a simple, yet important thing in life.
A good night to write. Not entirely drunk, not entirely
sober, not entirely devoid of thought, and not entirely overwhelmed by emotion.
Just a clear view, for now, of now. Nothing more and nothing less. Scary times
these, maybe only so because they are unknown times and waters these. But isn’t
that what life is about? Travelling those seas and taking the storms along with
the good weather? Even when the good weather turns out to be a windless spot,
and the storm dumps you on the island of rich reward. Nothing is ever as it
seems and tonight is the time to wonder if anything I see, is actually what it
is. And if it isn’t, what do I make of it? Maybe me just seeing it, is what
makes it what it is. Me being entrenched in who I am, and what I believe and
what I “stand for” makes this all either work, or not. Its my comfort zone I
guess. We all have one. Sober, I tend to be more pragmatic. Problem; logic;
solution directly proportionate to logic and problem. If it isn’t my problem,
step away. No good Samaritan left inside me. Where I am now, seeing things
differently. More emotional, more touchy feely. I’ve done some work on getting
rid of that part of me. I used to spend too much time on acting out of emotion,
and not logic. And now I find myself on the flip end of the scale, thinking only
logically and entirely not emotionally enough. Part of that is true, and some
of it lie if I have to look at it with focused eyes. I’m still trying to let go
of a lot of emotional decision making and be a bit more practical. But still I
cant always get that right. I don’t know if I'm afraid of conflict, or don’t
care or what, but I still just let things slide very often, even if I'm unhappy
with what the result would be. I still do that. I still don’t know what it
matters though, whether I'm unhappy or someone else is, it just always seems
like if I'm unhappy it's a lesser deal, I know how to bottle it up, or put it
away or something. I don’t know how true everything is I'm saying here tonight,
but it feels good to write it out and say it. Where the truth lies in all this,
I guess, is someone else’s hobby to find. Perhaps that’s the thing, I don’t
know my own truth, I only have rumors and hints at what it is I want or really
do stand for. And that’s only from listening to other people when they have
opinions. So what am I doing here tonight then, writing all this out? I don’t
really know. All I know is I'm enjoying it and I'm doing it effortlessly and
it's all just kind of flowing. Just coming out. I don’t know what it means, and
I'm not going to pretend like I'm going to try and explain it. Maybe it's all
just one big brain fart that’s been building up for a while. I mean there are a
hundred different topics I would love to just write about. My opinions and
feelings and what I see as right and wrong and just and unjust and just rant my
ass off. And maybe that’s why tonight is a good night to write, because I can’t
do that. There’s a block tonight, an invisible barrier that’s not letting me
get worked up about all the things that do piss me off and make me feel angry
so often. For tonight I'm protected from seeing ….no wait, feeling that anger.
Tonight I can just talk, and not really let the subject matter take over and
turn me into fiery rage. I wonder why that is? And that right after saying I've
become more pragmatic. Hahaha. The irony. And that, after me saying that I just
sometimes let things slide because me or someone else being unhappy
blahblahblah. THE IRONY. So who is it I'm lying to then, if it's only me
typing, and only me writing, who is it I feel I'm protecting from this merry go
round chain of thought and illusion? It can only be me, but protect myself,
from me, that makes no sense. Am I capable of being honest with myself? Am I
capable of seeing the things I think may be there to see, and still being able
to say yes, I'm me ill go on? I don’t know. I hate it when people say you
should speak to someone. We all have someone to speak to inside. I guess the
problem is can you trust that person. After all, isnt that other person only
human at the end of the day as well? Same brain, same chemicals, same A.D.D O.
C. D. M. D as the pickled brain you’re in right now? Hahaha, well I guess
that’s what we will never know. Part of me hating it when people say that, is
then I have to listen to another person and take their advice against my
beliefs. The person doing the telling is also only human.
We bought a puppy today. Cute little girl, a ridgeback.
She's sleeping on Ls arm right now, stretched out and her tongue hanging out.
Very cute, I've taken numerous pictures. How is it 24 hrs ago, I didn’t know
she existed, and tonight I'm so happy to have her here, where I can see she is
warm and safe and sleeping as if she has no worries. I don’t know what to make
of the rest of the gang though. It's like the guys have never seen a female dog
before. Slinks is just outright afraid of her, Dobs isn’t too stressed. Roger,
I think is getting there. Been a lot of growling from him and it looks like he
is the biggest issue to him. I just don’t get how it works, they are the same
breed, and in essence, she was meant to be like a buddy for him. The 2 small
dogs have each other and are always fart assing around together, so we thought
it would be nice to get him someone for his side. And yet he is the one with
the most misgivings, for lack of a better word. I'm sure he will come around,
and I hope he does.
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Salt plain roads that don’t exist
And pain that’s there just like a cyst
Walking roads that just aren’t there
Like swimming a river that goes no where
Walk that road or run it if you will
Go to the doctor, take his pill
Shut your mouth and learn to deal
Red wine can only cry
There’s a part of me that is scared
Not of what’s out there, or what I might find
But agreeing with it.
Not drunk enough to mistype yet, but I can feel the whiskey
dropping its curtain on motor neuron mechanics. Its bliss, to know that shortly
it will all be dulled out. It will be quiet again. It’s not things unresolved, it’s
not problems haunting, or a childhood with scars. It’s simply seeing the things
I do every day. I’m not a police man, or soldier or welfare worker…..I’m just a
normal person. But seeing how things do work, and how it is all orchestrated,
leaves me with an intense desire to drink.
Now I’m drunk. Whiskey
and music. Such a good mix. I love I hate I feel. I can’t explain I won’t all
punctuation out the door I’m just who I am. I won’t apologize for that, and
don’t want any lee way I’m just that
Who I am.
_______________________________________________________________
Another night spent in the company of whiskey. In these moments I don’t care who judges, because
my violence will burn you. The one thing it can’t burn is my own judgment. How
much alike I am, and how near I am to that line I drew in my mind. I suppose it
doesn’t matter. I have a life’s worth of excuses to fire at this in self
defense, but I can’t escape myself in asking “Why Donald, if you always knew
you drew that line for others. Where is YOUR line?”
When I write, things come out, in one form or another, it
all comes out. In this, I can’t hide from myself, I can’t dodge the questions.
There are aspect of myself I find strange, and have no answers for. Rather
understand that they are a part close to those that have come to realize that I
shouldn’t question those things. Just let them be. There are those that I
respect, by some or other means, and I know they have travelled a path of their
own. You cannot help me, just like those before could not help you until you
saw the light for yourselves.
I hate my fucking keyboard…….
I have found a part of me that still has something to put
down here, albeit not on paper, but in words. The timeless words that never go
away. Words I can’t escape totally, but it’s
always hard to escape those things that you can’t form in to something more
than a feeling. We spoke tonight. L and I. we spoke about Ian. There’s part of
me that wants to believe what she said about him. I’ve spent so much time
hacking through an emotional bond with him that almost never existed, well not
for me by the feel of it. I always took family and blood so seriously. And
somehow I built that wall, and I built it well enough to block out things I
didn’t want to feel. L started? chipping
away at that wall tonight. I love her, it wasn’t a fight, although my first
instinct was to grab whatever was near and defend myself. I’ve done a pretty
good job at writing off, closing the books on all the things that happened. It’s
not that much happened, but its how I felt about it I wrote off. I wish I could
say “congrats u wanted me to fight, now see how much I don’t care”, but that’s
not the truth. I only gave up caring because it hurt too much to care. Pride, it's
such a silly thing. But when it’s all you have, what do you cling too? I was
young, I was stupid. Which young person without regrets can say that? It was
the things they said in passing, in just living that made the impact on me. I
could spend a thousand life times having ‘meaningful conversations’, but it’s
the things you all said in passing, in living a life, that touched me, left its
mark. It doesn’t really matter now I guess. Time has moved on, and the things I
thought were important, turns out they aren’t. And likewise, they things I
dismissed, turned out to be important. It will always change that way. Turn
itself upside down and inside out to fit the moment. Maybe the best I can do is
make peace with it all. Smile and wave as they all say. Just smile and wave at
a world and people I don’t understand.
Writing all this down doesn’t help like it used too. It does
help, don’t get me wrong, or don’t thing I don’t enjoy writing. I just can’t
bullshit myself with writing like I used to. Writing used to be my
justification of why I felt the way I did. I still for the most part feel the
way I always have. There are aspects that have changed, but some that have not.
Anger, or frustration, that’s still there. I don’t think that will ever go
away. It’s not about meditation or deep breathing, it’s part of who I am. That
feeling I wouldn’t know what to replace with. It’s inbred. Being able to hide
it, control it, that’s changed. Perspective on life, how I deal with people, my
shyness, that has changed. Guess it all depends on how you look at it. One rule
that hasn’t changed is the 40 yr rule. Been affirming that for many years now,
and there’s part of me that knows it’s true, and a part of me that has been trying
to kill that other part for a while. The theory goes, my life will end at 40, and
it comes from a way off that theory. And part of me wants it to be true, and
part of me doesn’t want it to be true. I made the mistake of mentioning it to L
once, was a drama evening and I had to let it out. Turns out it was a mistake
to do that. Thank God I’m writing now, and not talking, or there would be
either an argument or questions. And that was never the point. All I wanted was
to be heard. Strange how these things echo through in real life. I just wanted
sympathy, and I do hate myself for it. For saying that out loud. But I have to
admit that, to me, or others, it doesn’t really matter now. I hate wanting to
say “hold me, just hold me, touch me, and let me cry. Don’t tell me everything
will be ok because I know it won’t”
There was always a part of me that knew it wouldn’t, but I
locked it away for so long.
I just don’t know what to say. There are so many words
inside, and so many ways to put them out there, that at the end of it all I
just don’t know how. Ok it’s not that I don’t know how, but I’m scared. Yes I’m
scared. There are so many ways to put something out there in the world these days;
I’m scared it gets misinterpreted. All proves a point at the end of it. I never
wrote anything with the intention of anyone reading it, and here I am
spellchecking to make sure I don’t look like an ass. Hahahaha! The irony of it
ALL.
I don’t know any of the answers, and let alone less any of
the questions. I can only attest for me, and my life, and where I’m hopefully
going. I’m not right, but I’m sure I’m not wrong. I drink too much, and I think
I know why. There are no excuses only my reasons. But my reasons only sound
like excuses to those who don’t really want to hear. It’s not as black and
white as you think, and if it is, you've never really lived. It’s in the grey
that life happens, in the cross fire of decision and well, decision. What do
you decide to do? One man’s grey is another man’s way. We will fight forever,
not because we hate, but because we don’t understand. I don’t know another man’s
grey and he doesn’t know mine. Why I made the choice I did, when I did. That’s
always a hard call. But it’s easier to call it from where we stand and say
“NO”.
What if I don’t want to say NO anymore? What if I want to
say, go ahead and live, just don’t fuck around with me? Somewhere, somehow, I’m
the bad guy.
FUCK I AM THE BAD GUY. Seeing things people say, and
refraining from comments, that’s my good. Because my comments would be bad. If
I zoom out, then yes my comments would be bad. I’m not sure for who, but I
would still be labeled the bad guy for calling it as it is. Just, get a life
people. Maybe I don’t have one, but it
feels like I’m more alive than any of you looking at what you put on public
display. You think putting the shit you do on a social media site is going to
change anything? Ah my fuck, no go DO something about the situation.
Oh and ps it’s not as ‘covert’ as you think, cause anyone
with a bit of insight can see there’s shit that needs to be dealt with there.
Go sort that stuff out and post some happy/smiley picture posts wont you?
Thanks! J
Somewhere we all made the mistake of thinking our opinions
counted for something. Good god I look at face book, and the comments, and the
people, and the expectations…….ah my god wow!!! How egotistical have we
become?! We all have a voice and we have
all been taught that “your opinion counts” or voice for lack of a better
descriptive. Did it ever occur to anyone, that maybe it doesn’t? Maybe that’s
what we were told, not to make us feel better, but to make the tellers feel
better, because they knew better, and hoped for better?
My life has proved no harder, or softer than anyone’s. We
all know shits out there, but what makes you think anyone wants to hear about
your shit?
I think I may have been cursed; if I go to bed early, I wake
up tired. If I go to bed late. I wake up tired. If I go to bed drunk, I wake up
tired. If I take sleeping pills, I wake up tired. Can you find the common
denominator? Must be a curse….
Hahahaha! My first spelling error was demon, the irony kills
me. :P
There comes a time, that no matter how happy you are, and no matter how content you
are, that you also realize that you’re till as misunderstood, or just not
listened too, like when you were a high school pupil. I know you didn’t want to
talk these things tonight, but the fact that I feel the way I do, and needed to
let it out, but stopped says it all. I will swallow it again, and never breach
the topic. It’s always been about others Donald, not about you.
I’m coming to the point of hating social media. SO much
utter crap being posted, and dare you just say anything. I understand social
media, and there actually is a certain responsibility when it comes to that.
Somehow as a people, as a race or whatever you want to call it, that’s all
lost. As long as it makes ‘me’ feel good, or hell, look good, it’s ok to say.
Social media has made people blunt. Because it’s on a page, not me saying it
out loud, it’s ok to say, I don’t have to think.
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A time to live
A time to die
A time to look you in the eye.
A time to talk
And a time to hear
A time to look beneath the fear
A time to listen
A time to think
Wandering ever closer to the brink
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