November

November. November. November.

This is the season of pain. The season of loss. The season of absolute agony.

This time of year. The depression is here. Depression; though comforting is cruel. She is truly a mistress of madness.

November is death. November remembers all that it has claimed.

This morning I could feel one more piece of my mind slip away from me. One more piece of happiness drift away like smoke in a damp sky. In it’s place is now another little black hole. My mind is covered with little black holes. All of the memories come back in November. My month of misery. It took me years and years to drink away the memories. In the process I took out the good ones to destroy the bad ones. Now just hundreds of little black holes. Soon I will be a black hole.

Will I survive this one? Will I collapse on myself like a dying star?

I am tired of pretending I am something I am not. Only one person knows me and only two people care. It is my own fault. My evasive lies and manipulative self expression are all false.

Who would want to see this? I have wasted too much energy hiding myself, masking myself and covering my tracks. Now I have no idea who I am.

But it is November. What will she claim this year? What will she rip from my spirit? What will she spit to the floor as she washes her hands of me?

Maybe she has come for my broken heart. My mind is filled with too many holes now. She will not accept it.

Will I survive as she rips my broken heart from my soul?

November, you cruel bitch you. How I have missed you.

1 AM

It is 1 am.

I want him.

My rage has peaked. My sorrow is set. I want him.

There is this man I know. He is not my husband. I am ashamed to say it.

There is this man. He has long dark hair and eyes cast in shadows. I want this man now. It is 1 am and I am tired and burned. I seek to curl up in his arms. I seek him like flame craves dragons breath.

I want this man. He is evasive to me unless I try to find him. This man is no friend of mine, he is no love.

He is what I want and I want him now.

I will go and curl up next to my husband and I will pretend that this night has not been like so many others.

This night of cold again and pain again and loneliness again.

I will go now and lay next to my husband. But inside I will burn for this man I want.

He will never know how much I dream, ache for, love, admire, hope for and crave this man. My husband will never know. Thank God.

Thank God my husband does not know.

Thank God he does not know that he is this man I want.

It is 1 am. I am tired and aching. I want my love.

It is 1 am. I want Brandon.

It is 1 am. I am going upstairs to sleep beside the man of my dreams.

Thank God he knows.

MY One.

My All.

Signing Off

It is like a knife so I take a knife to my flesh and soul. Blood comes through the seams. The storm has past and I lay half dead and tired. God can have me now to send to hell. Go and take me God.

Take me GOD. Come and get me and send this unbaptized baby to HELL.

For I am lost in the madness of my mind.

I have lost.

Come get me God. For you must have the desire to send this bitch to the screaming ends of hell.

For all I have loved and lost you must judge me all the same and relinquish me to the minds of man.

I believed in YOU. Now you must come and get me. I am in the breath of madness.

Cut quick and clean. If I see tomorrow then we shall see if you are what they say you are.

I pray they are mistaken. I believed you were better than this. I believe in YOU. But the mind of man has taken you from my lips and now man’s word is pouring from your spirit.

So take me and my unbaptized, unloved, blasphemous soul. Take me to the pits of hell. I have seen the pits in my dreams. If you want me there then I go.

My God. Have mercy on my soul.

Fletch Lives!

I just had a very LARGE breakthrough. Dispolar Biorder still holds true. However if you know me you know I am very… sensitive.

Tonight, after seven years, my husband managed to track down a soundtrack for me. I love the movie the soundtrack comes from, it was an old family movie (Fletch). My mom and dad use to watch this movie all the time. These memories I have been “hiding” are not of rape, not of pain, not of destruction. The memories I have been hiding are of my family and this soundtrack reminded me of all the days I lived unafraid and whole. All my days as a protected dreamer. Yes, my mom stroked my head and we barbecued and so much more.

Fire works on my birthday… My dad coming home to us… So much joy.

The three of us. We really kicked ass. I have been hiding the good memories. I have been hiding the greatest times of my life. I have been hiding US. Three musketeer’s, think twice, we were better. The “black sheep” son, the neglected brilliant daughter, the child they had. Me. I have been hiding them, I have been hiding me.

I made a pact. If my father or mother ever died, I would die. I have been holding the promise. I have been slowly killing myself for seven years. I promised if my dad ever died I would die and I am, it took seven years but I am. Seems my brain remembers. I would rather be dead with him then stay with the lot of you.

If I did really die, I would have to take my mother with me (guess I should talk to her about that first).

I did not understand until listening to this album and remembering the three of us. Both of my parents were separate from their family. They made their own family. The word “special” does not really cover what we were. I was raised by two of the best people that have ever, and may ever exist.

I did not see it before. I guess it really is love. I have one foot in the grave. One foot on the plot. I won’t leave them. Either of them. I am going with them. Even if it tears me in two.

I think I understand God now.

My heart is light tonight. At least now, I know. I am not full of shit. I am just keeping the promise I made to myself years ago.

Kill Baby Kill

So you are all headed out to “bag” some wolves. Lets look at this…in detail. I’ve had a couple beers and I don’t mind writing like a tree hugging, dirt worshipin’ bitch.

On the left side of the ring is The Hunter.

On the right (oh yeah, pun intended) side of the ring is The Wolf.

This may take more than one blog post. The wolf is my spirit guide after all. I should do my part. I will try to remain calm and neutral even though we all know that I can’t and won’t.

First up The Hunter and for this we will have to go into the “mind” of the man in his pretty hunting gear with his pretty gun. We may have to save wolves for another blog post. While I believe there is not much to The Hunters mind, I do believe he is backed up by many a government officials, so they too, will have to be analyzed.

“Montana has sold 7,120 wolf licenses. “The system is working, and hunters are excited to have the opportunity,” Jim Unsworth, deputy director of the Idaho department, said in a statement.” – Kim Murphy Los Angeles Times

– So, making money off of the licences? Underlying motive? I think so. What is a life worth these days? Excited Hunters? No shit!

“An Eagle, Idaho, man was cited for poaching Tuesday when he shot a wolf on a public road from the back of his pickup truck in an area not open for wolf hunting. The man told officers he thought he was in a legal zone until he later checked a map. The wolf was a small female, still a pup, according to the fish and game department.” – Kim Murphy Los Angeles Times

– Woops. Thats ok. She was just a pup after all.

“One of the first hunters to report a wolf kill in Idaho, Robert Millage of Kamiah, Idaho, said he had been flooded with hostile e-mails and phone calls calling him a wolf murderer and a fat redneck. “I have a thick skin and a good sense of humor. What am I going to do, yell back at them?” he told the Lewiston Tribune. “I obeyed the law and did what [the Idaho Department of] Fish and Game wanted us to do. I can sleep well.” – Kim Murphy Los Angeles Times

-Sleep baby sleep. The law will protect you. Oh wait, the law USE to protect wolves until they became inconvenient and turned a profit. Don’t worry Robert, I am sure they will take care of you when your old, inconvenient and sucking up the governments money. How is your retirement plan anyway?

” State wildlife officials say wolves have killed a fifth hunting dog in Clark County and other dogs have been injured. Three packs of wolves have been linked with killing hunting dogs this year.” – USA Today

– An eye for an eye? Wolves are very territorial. Why is the life of a dog worth more than a life of a wolf? Because people hate wolves and love dogs? People.. we may be getting somewhere now. People, population, land control. If we put the wolves somewhere and they want another square foot, they will have to pay. With their lives. But I thought people were God? We are arn’t we? We get to decide who lives and dies. Yea! We are God now.

I am going to continue this blog post. I think it may take a few. I want to get something clear. I know there are “good” hunters out there. Yes, you know who you are. Wolves are a form of “population control” for the vegan wildlife that in large populations can destroy an environment. However, wolves have it bred into their blood, what they are meant to do. They hunt and kill the sick and the weak of the herd. Yes, they are selective killers. I think they are confused, they can no longer do their job as we control them and their herds. Good hunters kill AND eat the animal in question. GOOD hunters kill quickly and do NOT take trophies. Good hunters keep the balance that is hunter vs. hunted. The problem as I see it is that we really think we can “control” any situation that involves wildlife. I place before the court. If the wolves are eating the cattle, they are hungry. Why are they hungry? We hunt their game and control it. They hunt the cattle. Wait. Hunting cattle? Whats to hunt? They don’t move to much. We take their land and put cattle on it. We hunt their food and put cattle on it. What will they eat? Cattle.

We are wrong. We are a sick race. This is just a pissing contest. I think we are threatened because the wolves are just to close to the top of our precious food chain.

P.S. Sarah Palin is an ignorant tyrant.

Robert Millage of Kamiah, Idaho. The first in Idaho to bag the "beast". Congrats.
Robert Millage of Kamiah, Idaho. The first in Idaho to bag the "beast". Congrats. (Source: Robert Millage via Associated Press / Los Angeles Times)

My son’s naked butt

The morning is always a unclear time, before the coffee kicks in and the brain starts to function I am always confused. What will the day bring, what will we do, how often will I call my husband at work? I wake and am greeted by three black cats, one whom presently has his paw in my mouth, a moaning, drooling husband and a child who has shed his diaper and is going commando around the house. Did I really think it was going to be like Doris Day? I think I did. Where are the singing birds? Why isn’t my hair and make-up perfectly done? Plastic scrambled eggs and a house that shows no evidence of a family ever having been there. No, not for me. Runny scrambled eggs, burnt toast, hungry cats, confused husband and my son’s naked butt.

Dec. 10. 2008. StarDate3490.804.20080.12

Dear Dad;

I really, really fucking miss you. I am so mad at you for leaving I can barely control it anymore. Did you really expect me to be able to hold this family up? I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You don’t talk to me for years then you come back to me and tell me you always loved me then you travel up to see me and die! Really, what the fuck was your soul thinking? Did you really think mom and I were going to leave the hospital and be OK? Did you really think she and I would survive your ignorant death? You know that it is seven years later and it is still the same for her and I as that night you died. You die everyday for us, over and over again. Do you have any idea what I went through? Do you have any idea what she went through?

Let me tell you, you absolute asshole.

After years of longing for our damn relationship to return to normal, after years of self hatred at the thought I had done something so wrong as to lose your love, after years of lingering around your bedroom door waiting for forgiveness you come back to me. You decide to forgive me (much to my shock) for being a crappy teenager. You travel your ass up here with my mother in tow, not once but twice, back to Oregon where we should have stayed. You forgive me, acknowledge me, hug me, cry, tell me you are proud of me, tell me you love me. Then you fucking die. You have some stupid heart attack that kills you while your on the fucking road.

So here it is you jerk. This is just me remember, mom has some words for you too.

My fucking day at work, I begged and begged my boss to get off early so I could spend as much time with you and mom as possible but there was so much to be done that I had to stay all through my shift. By the time I get home, so excited to plan our night together before you get back to California, I give mom’s cell a ring to check status on our plans. Let me tell you now how you destroyed every moment of my life, for the rest of my life.

Panic on the other end of the damn phone. I had no idea. Mom was on her way to the hospital with you. You were already dead. I didn’t know you were dead dad. I got in my Honda in a fury and started to drive in your general direction. You should have died in Portland, not so stupid town 30 miles away. You could have done the damn antique shopping in Portland. I had no idea where I was going, stopping at a Les Schwab in screaming tears to ask where the fucking hospital was in a town I had been to only once before and only in passing.

Oh, let me tell you about the traffic, see you decided to die right before rush hour. I was trying to get to you, putting cigarettes out on the floor of the Honda in panic screaming, no God, you won’t take him, he will be fine, it was just a heart attack, he is alive and we can get his heart fixed, no God, you would not take him from us, no God you just would not do it, never take my daddy, not now, not now when I just got him back.

You see dad? I thought you were still alive and it was too close of a call. Even though my panic was so bad I think I knew you were gone. But I did not know. After an hour in panic in traffic some miracle guides me to the hospital in a town I didn’t know, off of roads I had never travels to rush, crying into the hospital asking for you.

Listen up dad, it gets better.

The nurse did not tell me you were dead. She put her skinny arms around my shoulder and lead me to you.

See dad, she didn’t tell me. I ran to you on that hospital bed, telling you I was there and it would be ok from now on. You just had a heart attack and now we could get your heart fixed and you would be ok and we would be a family again and I loved you, God how much I loved you.

See. You were dead and she didn’t tell me. I really didn’t know until I had stopped talking to you and looked at my mother. You left us there. Alone. You left us for dead. It gets better still dad, see the Grim Reaper may not have taken our bodies but when you died he took our souls.

I screamed my way out of the hospital and put three beautiful dents in my baby Honda. They called the police on me dad. The stupid nurse, shit she probably called, “some crazy girl in the parking lot kicking a white Honda and screaming”. Lucky for the cops they didn’t even touch me. I was ready for the gas chamber.

After that the nothingness set it, not the good kind of no-thing-ness but the empty silence of absence.

I got in a fight with the clerk at the hotel you and mom had been staying at. That son of a mother fucking, ignorant, bastard. When my mom had stated (still in shock mind you) that you had just past away he did not care and demanded that she pay extra to have her room unlocked because she failed to check in. “Sorry, I thought, her husband was busy dying and she had just lost her entire world” but of course, pay the extra damn fee.

I threatened to kill him. If I had had a gun dad, I would have. He told me it wasn’t his fault you had died and I agreed but when I screamed that he could me more compassionate to a widow he just stared ignorantly with a supreme smirk on his face. He didn’t understand. I wish he was in the grasp of death, even now.

Dad. You left us for dead. Now it is Christmas time and you are not here. Oh, you ruined Thanksgiving too. You just had to die Thanksgiving Eve so we eat pizza on Thanksgiving and cry.

I have made every attempt to end my life. Life has little value. Even my beautiful husband, special son and enduring mother cannot convince me to stay. I am coming for you. It was all I ever, really wanted. Just want my God damn daddy.

-Cass

The Universe Spoke

And so the silence lay like a blissful martini above my mind but no. It was not a martini or some dream of life and love and thoughts of past, present, future.

Yes. I was dreaming of the universe. Very, very large. And very much not a passing drink.

Everything for me is measured in volumes as like so many people whom are allotted; I self medicate.

This dream like so many others always comes at just the right time. And this dream, unlike so many others was just enough to change my mind.

But this dream was followed by a friend. And I do not believe in friends, only foes. And I do not believe in dreams only dark. But I can share this as well as any medication.

To float out in the “UNIVERSE”? Pretty fucking scary. We have all see Alien-Alien 3 right?

This floating? Not so scary for me and mind me peoples’ I had an ambulance once pick me up on the side of the freeway for a “panic attack”. Yes, 500 $$$ bill to boot for that 6 mile trip to the ER to hear my brain had some minor “problems” with controlling my ability to cope with stress and was handing out adrenaline to my blood stream like a drunk bartender. Shit, I thought grim was a knocking on the side of my pretty white honda. I digress…

I am floating around in this solar system and the beauty it bestow is beyond letters put together purposefully. The clam sense of anti fear, anti worry and anti heartache is much greater than any dream dare provide before. As my pudgy body floats aimlessly out of the solar system into the universe I am gently confronted by a large undefined face forming out of what looks like space dust (cheesy I know but bare with me).

Simple as can be, in a strong voice neither guy nor gal, the face speaks to me lovingly of accepting my life and enjoying all experience, good or bad, simply because it is the experience that is needed to grow. It speaks of no fear as fear is attached to the body and is discarded after death. It speaks of after the physical death when what is left of the consciousness makes its way back to great beyond to a entirely different existence. Of life, love, pain, fear, misery, loss, happiness all being generally the same only seen through milllions of different eyes.

What can be said? It was one of those very personal things that I have decided to post on my blog because I am an ass.

As for the friend that followed.

We all know I love wolves beyond all things and hold them in the highest esteem. Well, the morning after the dream, purly by coincidence I followed a van all the way back to my home that had a huge picture of a wolf on the back staring right at me. I just know it was a sign as wolves are my “spirit guides”. I know the driver of that van felt something too, shortly before he pegged me as a stocker after I cut off another car to remain behind him.