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.
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.
Did you and I not coil around him like dunes eat water?
Did we not both beg of him for Enya and oysters?
Why did he leave?
Did we exhaust him so?
I would never believe that of him.
As we can never lay him down. I wonder if he always knew.
He stays silent in our dreams. Never speaking.
I wonder.
Is he binding us?
Did he always know?
If he had stayed would this be so?
Our life. Together.
Why does he not speak in our dreams?
You cannot return him to me. I cannot return him to you.
MOM?
Stay with me?
If we stick together we have a better chance.
You and me.
Stay with me. If you lose me then I lose you and we are both desert lost.
Stay with me. I will stay with you.
Maybe then he will talk to us again.
Take my hand and we will both go back to the desert. You and me. US. We will live in the dunes and dream of cats and wild things. Come with me. We are all that is left. We are desert bound.
The feeling of complete aloneness. It is so over bearing and crippling. I have just passed a manic phase and seem to be wandering into the depressive phase. It is most interesting to document this disease. This depression is a complete feeling of isolation and misunderstanding. Suicide? Nope.
Just the feeling of absent and quiet. Of tolerance and pain. Of nothingness and stillness.
I read today that we manics tend to be great artists. This I find funny, however, as of late I have found one.
This is of little importance. I am no great artist. I have no skill or defining ability. I am poor white trash with nothing to offer but a serious set of flaws and fat. I thought, I could make great on this…disease. But alas, no. Just a set of cuts on my wrist one month and a shopping spree the next.
Sometimes the thoughts of death as a release are comforting and necessary, sometimes they are crude and intolerable. I have no ability to know what I do. I can feel all the time, I am always feeling. But logic and rationality come every so often and at their own whim.
This aloneness. This horror of isolation. This multi-faced bitch in the mirror. This is me.
I can allow others to judge me and I pray that they do. As their perception of me passes fancy and creates a hole around me, they are validated that they are not flawed, I am validated that I am.
Dead things walk the edges of my mind as I wander through this misty place. Once my friend and companion, my mind is now unexplored and unforgiving. For lack of credit card and sun my mind has once again resorted to turning grey as the sky does this October. Now the excitement leaves and the silence sets in. Sweet, deadly silence.
Now as the season turns. I am alone. For the manic may come and go as it pleases, but only on a ticket. This is now the season of my depression. The aloneness coils around me like a blanket from hell.
I am here to greet her, my old friend. I feel safe in the dead of her loving embrace.
I am wondering this morning how many other people are unemployed at this very moment?
Ten years ago I could land a job without even applying for it, now nothing. I am either not qualified enough or I am over qualified for the jobs that do open up. This is all very annoying. My tasks today are to do the dishes and as my best friend informs me, to also make the bed. A few years ago at this time I would be half way through a latte and just going through last nights paper work after opening up Walgreens. The day would unfold with several tasks that had nothing to do with dishes or bed or a four year old that has just entered the “talk back” phase of childhood. I have been alerted that this phase is actually not a phase but a new fixture in our lives. Pitty is appreciated.
I have several years of management experience and consider myself a damn hard worker. These things do not matter any more. There are not enough jobs. I am not above myself and would have no problems working a position under a position of my previous experience but that does not matter. Then I am simply over qualified. You would think that putting an over qualified person in any position would be a good thing.
So my job options are now internet scam artist, work from home scam artist or any company that does telemarketing scamming. I am starting to think I should have checked “deceptive little bitch” on my future career application in high school. I have never been on unemployment but I sure have paid into it. If only I could get all that money back now. This blog sucks and now I am all pissed off and frustrated. I will try not to take it out on the dishes. Ah.. screw it, I will break em all
Did you ever wake in the am and have a foreboding sense that an entire war had just happened in your dreams? This happens to me quite often. Images of war, fire, blood and death. I awake this morning with my yellow eyed black cat, Ashes staring down from the window sail at me. It was one of those moments I have frequently with my cat, he graciously pokes his very cold nose into the corner of my eye, sneezes and then erupts in purr. Even with kitty boogers in my eye I am grateful the night of dreams has ended.
I first try to think of anything violent or disturbing that I may have watched in the last few days, drawing up a blank I try to remember the dreams, they are evasive. I have a habit of waking up around 3:00 every morning, which makes it easier to remember some of the dreams.
Last night I remember blood mostly. Suffering, pain, you know, the usual. I don’t get it. I want peaceful dreams of flying, the ocean and winning the lottery. But no, I get WW2, concentration camps and Hiroshima. Past life? No, thats a bit “out there”. So why am I having these dreams? I seldom went to any of my history classes in school, not that I do not find history fascinating but in High School smoking pot behind the school dumpsters was much more educational ( just call it sociology). If anyone has any ideas as to why these dream plague me or if they plague you, please let me know.
And so we stand here again. Blog post #2. Wolves. Shall we cut the crap and get straight to it? Yes, I agree.
“The only way we are going to make these wolves afraid to come around human beings and livestock,” says Beck, 71, “is (for wolves) to be shot at. –The Oregonian (Correction: Credit for The Oregonian references in this blog belong to reporter Richard Cockle – My apologies to Michelle Brence who is a editor at The Oregonian and was previously listed as the source of the reported statement).
– Here we go with the livestock again. Well, that is up to you. Are you a rancher? If so I already know what you think. Are you a red meat eater? If so I already know what you think. Or do I? I eat red meat. Not all too often but I do. What is better to me than a cool blue center ribeye, lovely free range meat (long lived mind you, I am not a baby killer: veal)? Not much better than that. But my steak is not worth two lives. My steak is not worth a wolf hunt. My pleasure is not that important. This is not about cattle, it is about control, power and you bet ya, MONEY.
“When wolves are indiscriminately killed whether as reprisal for livestock depredation or to reduce wolf predation on wild ungulates, it can affect future human-wolf relations. Removal of wolves from a region can enhance survival of remaining young growing pups which in turn increases the demand for more meat. Also indiscriminate predator control skews populations towards younger animals—which on the whole are inexperienced and more likely to kill livestock. Thus even killing wolves to enhance wild ungulate populations can increase wolf predation on livestock and ungulates that will likely increase demands for even more wolf control. –George Wuerthner, New West
–I…oh wait, I agree.
Gray wolves were reintroduced in Idaho, Montana and Wyoming in the 1990s, and they’re again making their presence felt in Oregon. Some believe they should be left alone, and others insist they have no business here. – The Oregonian
– Ok, how can a wolf have “no business here”? I really do not get it. They are a part of the ecosystem, they are living creatures. How can they not have business here? They are not pushing paper, pushing the buck. Who the fuck do we think we are? Oh, that’s right, we are God. Silly me, I forgot.
Lets see what a local politician has to say on the matter.A Republican candidate for governor of Idaho, Rex Rammell, was at a political barbecue last week when somebody brought up the tags used by wolf hunters, and then made a reference to killing the president of the United States. “Obama tags?” Rammell replied, to laughter, according to an account in The Times-News of Twin Falls. “We’d buy some of those.” –Timothy Egan, New York Times
– Please don’t make me comment. Like Obama or not, is this really the kind of person you want playing a hand in your country? If you said yes, please vote under” Hitler” on your ballot, for even that terrorist had more eloquence than Rammell.As for wolves, Rammell wants them all dead, dead, dead. “I believe wolves need to be eliminated,” he says on his Web site. –Timothy Egan, New York Times
–No more wolves? Ever? You want to kill every last one? Wow. Listen up people, hide your children, hide your families. Once Hitler is done with the wolves… he may come for you. DEAD. DEAD. DEAD.I will keep bringing you the arguments. But in the end, I will change nothing. One last note tonight. If we can go to the moon, use plants to cure disease, bring children into the world 2 months before they are due and keep them alive, WHY, WHY, can we not find a way to co-exist with a creature that we have been playing GOD with for far to long.
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.
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. (Source: Robert Millage via Associated Press / Los Angeles Times)
I have not written in this blog for many a month. It proves nothing other than I can never really see anything through, or even to a decent point in a timeline. It reminds me much of the doll reconstruction I was absolutely obsessed with for two months. Two months, new paints and Barbie heads (minus their manufacture paint and hair) littering the household. All of that research and passion for a new obsession simply added up to yet another project that will never be completed. The only good thing to come of the “I play with dollies” phase was the cats now have a lot of faceless, hairless heads to bat around the house. Good for kitties. Bad for me.
Upon reflection of this blasphemous blog I decided that my writing turned out not to be what I had thought or wanted it to be. Though my friends proclaimed to enjoy it, it simply was not it coming across as intended. I have a very deep spiritual side. But that is the only deep thing about me. My dream blog was to write about The One… I will go more into that later, I am to lazy to explain it now. Anyhow, instead of finding spiritual mastery, great meaning and an intimate relationship with the “great mystery” in my blog writing; I found a foul mouthed, sarcastic, control freak who really has either no clue of what is going on around her or too many clues that are confusing her.
I renamed the blog as such because I suffer from Bipolar Disorder (a mood disorder). If you want to know more about it, look it up, I am sick of talking about it. However, I have decided not to take medication for this very annoying mental illness. I think that my spiritual side may be just that, spirit, unseen, undefined. Hence only an ass like myself would choose to attempt to write about that. But this bipolar disorder… Well, this could be some fun. I tried to write a novel, I tried non fiction. Shit, these days I can’t even see to complete a Haiku. Perhaps a blog of my ups and downs might reveal a cure?
No. I think not. There is no cure. Maybe a cure is not meant to be. If I write honestly, I may be able to find a pattern to my disease and thus… Well, that really won’t help either but lets give it a try.
If you are reading this blog you will probably take nothing from it but please enjoy Royo’s beautiful artwork (or for some of you “hot chicks touching each other”). I will keep posting them as my mood changes.
