sigh

Despite being somewhat molested by my mother, the beatings and the mental abuse, I don’t hate her. I feel sorry for her.




With the drunkenness and never being there, I don’t hate my father. I miss him



I don’t hate my ex-wife. She’s happy now.



I’m in a good place now. I’m dating someone special. She makes me feel good.



My daughters are growing up into beautiful, intelligent women.



For the first time in years I think I can say I’m happy.



It’s been a long time, and I have to keep telling myself to not let it go to my head.



I remain cautiously optimistic.



I know I’ll be sad again someday, but for now I’m going to enjoy this time of contented happiness.

60

60 things people have said about me or called me.




1. A walking Wikipedia of useless knowledge.

2. Intelligent but disillusioned.

3. Oblivious

4. Lacks commitment.

5. Stupid

6. Beefcake

7. One of the most cool uncool people.

8. I seem like I’m from New York.

9. Nerd

10. Geek

11. Obsessive

12. Needs constant reassurance

13. No style

14. Looks better in life than in photos.

15. Fat

16. Skinny

17. Lazy

18. Failure

19. Dreamer

20. Distracting

21. Quite

22. Will be a cult hero someday.

23. Too sarcastic

24. Too honest

25. Too punk for the indie kids and too indie for the punk kids

26. Vampire cult leader.

27. Needs direction

28. Needs motivation

29. No ambition

30. Daddy (my favorite)

31. Husband

32. Ex-husband

33. Clumsy

34. Too caring

35. Doesn’t care enough.

36. Scared

37. Too polite

38. Asshole

39. Fag

40. White trash

41. Thief

42. Friend

43. Brother

44. Bi-polar

45. Manic depressive

46. Annoying

47. Ugly

48. Smelly

49. Lackadaisical

50. Cowardly

51. Poor

52. Lucky

53. Strong

54. Tough willed

55. A survivor

56. Inspirational

57. Addictive

58. Uncle

59. Bastard

60. boring

oh well

I am totally stressing out about money today. I am also in this weird stupid/happy mood. I was up till one this morning worrying about my financial situation. I came to the conclusion that there is nothing I can do about it. At least not right now. Every thing seems to work if you let it. So that’s what I’ll do, let it. I have a roof over my head, a car to get me where I need to go and food in the cupboards. Although honestly, I may not have the roof over my head for much longer.




As for the stupid/happy, I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I missed it. To this person, I say thank you.

Weekend of death and new life.

Friday night. 04/23/2010




It’s 10:30 at night. I’m dressed in a black button down shirt and black pants. I leave the apartment. On the sidewalk in front of my building someone says “Hey!” I turn towards the voice. There is a flash of light and I’m suddenly falling backwards. I’m on the ground. My chest hurts. I can’t hear anything. I can’t breath, my clothes are wet. Everything’s dim. There are people around me, but I can’t hear what they are saying. I close my eyes.



I woke up after that. I sat up and thought, that was odd, is that how I’ll go? I went to the bathroom, got some water and went back to sleep.



Saturday morning 04/24/2010



I leave the apartment. I have a few errands to run and want to get them done early. I can see a car in the distance as I cross the street to my car. The driver and passenger are looking at the floor. I get to my car and notice they are still looking down and headed straight for me. I don’t have enough time to get in my car. I hug it as they pass by. I feel the back of my jacket being brushed by the car. They hit two parked cars and stop. The driver gets out. He is stoned. He says “Man I dropped my Slurpee.” Notice he didn’t say sorry. The police were called and I gave a report. Both of them were arrested.



Saturday night.



I had an amazing time. And that’s all I’ll say about that.

Celebrate the new dark ages.

Last night it hit me. A cold wave washed over me. I knew it was happening again. It wrapped around me and pulled me under. I struggled for a bit, but ultimately gave in and went under. It felt familiar. I know this. I embrace it. It is my friend.


I’ve learned to wear my wounds with pride. I’m not exactly proud of my past, but I do not regret a minute of it. I wear my pain and suffering like a badge of honor as a constant reminder to not set myself up because I will fall again. That’s life I suppose. Every artist needs a tragedy. We all need to suffer to be alive. It keeps us grounded.

I won’t be down for long. Tomorrow I’ll probably happy again.

Part of me doesn’t want that.

If I think

Today could go either way. I went to bad sad and woke up sad. Not for any reason, I just did. I’m human and get moody sometimes.


Still wondering about tonight, still wondering about a lot of things really. Still wondering about friends who don’t know what’s going on and wondering about the ones who do. Questions, everyone has questions. I remain guarded in my answers. Some take the hint, some don’t. I don’t get mad. They just care about me and don’t want to see me hurt again, and well, me too.

I remain cautiously optimistic though. If anything, I met someone amazing and for the time being, I am happy (but still wondering).

We need air. No allegiance to the queen.

When my parents divorced we moved into a house with another family. My mother had no concept of working or paying rent. We moved into one of the bedrooms. My sister had a bed. I had to share a bed with my mom. She would get drunk before bed. She would pull me to her and put my head on her breast. She would rub her hands all over me. She would put her hands on my underwear and rub while whispering to me “You’ll never leave me.” I hated it. I hated her. I hated myself for letting this happen. After a year I finally told her to stop and started sleeping on the floor. She said I just wanted to get away so I could jerk off like my father. I was ten. I had no idea what she meant. We finally moved out. I had my own room, but it became a prison cell. I wasn’t allowed to leave that room unless I had to go to the bathroom, eat or go to school. At three o’clock in the afternoon I had to be in my room. I couldn’t have friends or phone calls. All I had was a little black and white TV, a record player and my books. Those were my escape. I would with TV and pretend I was part of those happy families. I was the characters in the books I read. I was the singer on the records I listened to.

Sunday morning. Everyday is Sunday.

Sitting on the couch typing, the girls are still asleep on the floor. I’m out of coffee and I’m waiting for them to wake up so we can go buy some.  I’m thinking of one person who has become rather special to me and trying to think of a way to help another. I keep telling myself to turn my brain off and have fun, but I can’t. I always analyze everything, every word anyone says to me looking for some hidden meaning.

That’s a problem; sometimes it stops me from taking chances and experiencing life to its fullest. I need to learn how to stop and enjoy something. I’m scared. I’ve been burned so many times in the past that it stops me sometimes.

 This time is different. She wants to go slow. I like that. I want to get to know her. I want to learn about her life. I want her to learn about mine. I want to share things with her, to slowly become part of my life. Will it happen? Only time will tell.

The girls go home tonight. I have a date with her on Tuesday. After that nothing, no plans till the first of May. I’ve gotten used to doing something on the weekends, a dinner with a friend or a visit to my sisters. I’ve learned to keep myself busy. I hated wallowing in self pity and I won’t allow myself to do that anymore. The truth is, I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself as of late. I’m dating a beautiful, interesting woman, my boss has eased up on the yelling and I get to see my girls more then ever.

Sometimes, life ain’t so bad. 

Coffee, books and cigarettes

So I went on a date. It was my first date in over twelve years. I had a blast, and I hope she did too. She has the most beautiful blue eye’s I’ve ever seen, with the exception of my own of course. I won’t go into details, but here’s a brief summary.




1. Get lost on the way there.

2. Two phone calls later I arrive.

3. One quick hug. (felt great by the way)

4. Question of what we should do.

5. Trip to a book store for coffee and books.

6. Phones explode with text from friends

7. An emergency call from one of her friends.

8. French toast for dinner.

9. Gasoline and cigarettes.

10. Back to her house.

11. Brief tour of the house.

12. I meet the pets.

13. A quick kiss and agree on a second date.

14. Walk to car and another quick kiss, she runs back inside.

15. 45 minutes to find a parking space.



I like her, I really do and I hope we can have some sort of future together, as friends, as a couple or whatever. I am happy just to know her.

Spring cleaning

All the blankets I own are the ones my dad wrapped around himself when he killed himself. All of my towels were his. I still have all his knick-knacks. I have a few of his books and CD’s. Most of it sits in boxes in what should be my dinning room. It takes up space. Every time I see the boxes I remember being a kid and hiding in my bedroom while my parents fought drunkenly. Some of it is things they would throw at each other. Each item is a painful memory. I can’t seem to get rid of it. It’s like it has a weird hold on me. It all has to go. I have to throw it all away. One blanket has three small spots of blood on it. That’s the one I sleep with.

Tomorrow around 8-8:30, it goes. All of it. Until I get more blankets, I’ll use a sleeping bag.  The sheets and pillow cases belonged to my ex. I think I’ll get rid of them too 

New day rising.

I’m tired of hiding in the cracks. I’m tired of being cynical. I want to trust in something or someone again.


Last night I had a long conversation with someone. We talked about my life, everything I’ve gone through good and bad. She told me I should think about volunteering my time with kids who had experiences similar to mine. She’s right; I have come a long way. I may not have the best job in the world or a lot of money, but damn it, I am still here. I never gave up. I came close a couple times, but I’ve never let adversity get me down for too long. I’ve had a lot of bad shit happen to me. I either soaked it in or let it roll off of me.

I’ve never actually felt important. I figured no one wants to hear my dumb stories. That no one really cares. That’s changing. It’s weird, but she makes me feel important. This morning I plan on looking into different groups and see if I can help in one way or another.



Thank you for that call.

Just to see you smile..

For Lydiaemily.

Because of me, you have paint on your iPhone.

Four words, I like…your blog. That’s how it started. I don’t have many people hitting me saying that. I was intrigued. I wanted to know who this person was. She added me as a friend. I looked at her profile. She is beautiful. She is an amazing artist. I told her I love her work and she thanked me. That’s all I needed. I found my inspiration, my muse.

We have only been talking for a week, but I’m obsessed. I have to know everything about her. She says I make her smile. She makes me smile.  We may never actually meet. We may not have much time together. She’s sick. I will value every moment we have together and remember every text, every email, every facebook posting between us. Until we are no more, I will do everything I can to keep her smiling and laughing.

I want see her smile in person at least once. I want to go to the zoo with her, watch the gorillas and hold her hand. I want to make her smile in person. I want to have coffee and smoke cigarettes for real.

If that doesn’t happen, I will be happy just knowing her and having her in my life in some form or another. 

When I sleep, my dreams destroy the bad memories.

I don’t know if it’s working. I went to bed sad and woke up sadder. Sad is something I can understand. Something I can comprehend. The past two months I’ve felt happy and I couldn’t grasp it. It wasn’t me.


I can feel myself wasting away. I keep losing weight. I’m now down to 155. None of my clothes fit. Food doesn’t appeal to me. I live on coffee and cigarettes. I tried quitting, but I need to cling to something. I stopped looking for a girlfriend or friends for that matter. I have accepted the fact that I will sit in my apartment alone.

Everywhere I look I see happy families, happy couples and happy people. I want to be like that, I do. I yearn to be happy without the feeling hopelessness in the back of my mind. Do these people feel the emotional pain that I have everyday? How do they see all the sadness in the world and ignore it? Do they see this sadness at all?

Everything good that happens to me I fuck up somehow. People talk to me and I don’t know how to react. I take my time in responding and they think I’m an asshole. Some times I don’t know if it’s worth it. If I’m alive this time next year I want one thing. I want to be happy without the guilt.

A short poem

I cen't even remember
the color
of your eyes
even though
when I close mine
You're all I see

Oh don't act suprised, you knew this was coming.

Party 94? 95?




Terrance and Jim and I were bored. It was Saturday night and we had nothing to do. Terrance knew of a party. We decided to go. Turns out, the party was being thrown by Jim’s girlfriends’ mother. She never met him before and the girlfriend was away so it was cool. All the mothers’ friends were gay. We were the only straight people there. They had a lot of booze and food. There was a hot tub in the backyard. Jim almost blew his cover when he said he had to go to the bathroom and stood up and walked in the house. He caught himself and asked where it was.

After awhile we were all pretty drunk. Someone suggested we get in the hot tub. Sure why not? It was a nice night and we were plastered. Some guy sat by me. Whatever, I didn’t care. Everyone knew I wasn’t gay. Mark and Terrance sat by each other. We had been friends with Mark for years so Terrance didn’t mind. Jim was sitting by some big bear. The guy next to me asked for a kiss. What the hell, I’ve never kissed a guy before so I did. Apart from the beard stubble, it was just like kissing a girl. He put his head on my shoulder and we just sat there. I looked towards Terrance and Mark. They were laughing and pointed to where Jim and the bear were. They were making out. Jim’s glasses were all askew, his hands were everywhere. He was lost in the arms of the bear. He was sitting in the bears lap. It looked cute. The guy I was sitting with asked if I wanted to go in and cuddle. I told him I was flattered, but no. He put his head back on my shoulder. He looked up at me and said “James, you’re making me hard.” He took my hand and placed it on his boner. I looked at him and said “Don’t do that.” I took my hand away. I got out of the tub and lit a cigarette. He told me I look sexy when I do that. I decided this was getting out of hand. I told Terrance and Jim it was time to go. Jim was still on the Bears lap. Mark asked for a ride home. The guy that wanted me to molest him asked for my number. Before I could say no Mark gave it to him. We drove back to the hotel and passed out.



A few months later.



I go with Jim to pick up his girlfriend and her friend. We sit in the desert, drinking cheap wine. Jim and his girl are sitting right behind me and start making out. The girlfriends’ friend comes close to me and we start kissing. I feel a hand on my inner thigh. I think wow this chick is into me and I just met her. I realize that one of her hands is on the back of my head and her other hand is on my back. I look to Jim; he’s kissing his girl and looking at me. His hand is on my thigh slowly working its way up. I grab his hand and push it off. I look back at him and shake my head no. We take the girls home. Jim says I was turning him on when he saw me with that girl and that he is starting think he might be gay. I told him that I’m not gay or bi. He looked sad.

Everyone thinks he looks daft.

9:45 AM Sitting on porch listening to music, having a cup of tea.




9:58 AM Friend picks me up for a day trip to Riverside with his girlfriend.



11:10 Am arrive at another friend’s house. I am informed that I will be meeting someone for a lunch “date”. I don’t like surprises of this nature. Fortunately she is a friend and we will remain friends, nothing more.



11:20 Am Friend and girlfriend are in the front seat, I’m in the back. It’s weird seeing both of them so happy. It’s nice but weird.

I’m in Rialto. Nearly everything bad in my life happened here. I have no happy memories of this place. Every house, tree, street sign brings back bad memories. I smoke more when I’m here; I have the urge to drink, when I’m in Rialto, I need a crutch.



We get to our lunch place. I haven’t seen her since ninth grade. She hugs me. It feels awkward, like neither one of us wanted to do it but felt obligated too. I don’t eat. I have no appetite.

Lunch over, she goes to work. She is my mother’s boss. She likes my mom. She doesn’t know her like I know her. I won’t say anything. Why should I ruin her friendship with my mother just because I hate her?

Friend, girlfriend and I get back in the car. We drive to Castle Park. I’m ashamed I don’t have enough money for the admission. “No problem “they say, “We got you covered.” We get in and automatically I regret coming. I shouldn’t be here. This is their date and I’m a third wheel. All day long, friends girlfriend’s ex text and calls her. I grab the phone and calm him down. He later emails me and says thank you for doing that. I feel pretty good for awhile.

When the day is done, we drive home. I start looking through someone’s artwork. It’s amazing. I let her know. She says thanks and in a weird way inspires me to write again. I’m mesmerized for a few minutes. Its weird how two or three lines could inspire you to try again.


Thank you.