Obama song by Michael Franti

Obama Song
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ou-oz6PZm4
A great song from a great artist!!

Oh demon alcohol

Oh demon alcohol,Sad memories I cannot recall,

Who thought I would say,Damn it all and blow it all,

Oh demon alcohol,Memories I cannot recall,

Who thought I would fall a slave to demon alcohol

Lines by Ray Davies

This is what my backyard fence now looks like courtesy of the latest windstorm. This is the time of year that everyone gets together for holiday parties. Alcohol is the focus of many of these parties. I am not one to judge, but I stopped drinking years ago after it started to make me sick. I have an addictive personality. I can't imagine a life without chocolate or some kind of sexual activity, whether that activity happens with or without another person. So for those that I know that are - let's come out and say it - addicts - slaves to alcohol, I am not one to condemn or judge since I am far from free from my own addictions. Still - I always notice that the reason I am not entirely comfortable around a group of drinkers is it creates another me vs. them situation. You know the old saying - you are either with us or against us - by that silent act of not participating there is already a difference set. So this time of year when the invites to parties start piling up - like there are so many I don't know what to do with (all 3 of them) I start finding excuses why not to go because it is hard to relate to a group of drinkers when you aren't one of them. Sure I have had my fun times - slamming away on an out of tune guitar until all the strings broke one by one - screaming out singing until my voice got hoarse - I had my moments, but I feel like those were my kiddie days in some ways now. Any addiction serves one purpose - it gets you to avoid a painful side of yourself you don't want to face. Once I go long enough without sex - as defined as the act involving two people, those feelings emerge. With sex I think there is a line between abstaining - which is necessary at times - and partaking - which for the sake of a relationship's survival - is also necessary at times - and every couple has to figure out what works for them. With alcohol though it seems like a much greater and more destructive force, not only because what it does to the body - the liver and the brain - but what it also does to the psyche. It seems like it creates a vampiric state of existence where you are either living for the thrill of being high or recovering in a drained burned out state. Off and on - and in avoiding the pain that you medicate yourself with, you get further and further from yourself - knowing who you really are, really knowing your scars. So again - I am not one to state how one deals with their wounds and their pain - I just know it is difficult for me to be around chronic drinkers because their pain is so openly advertised in the thin disguise of intoxicated pleasure. Party on.

Lord you can see that it's true

He could pass his time'round some other line

But you know he chose this place beside her

Don't get in the way, there's nothing you can say

Nothing that you need to add or do

They love each other

Lord, you can see it's true

Seeing that my last post was written in a somewhat depressed state I can balance it out with a little neutrality here. When Victoria came back from her individual session with the therapist it seemed pretty hopeless here. Of course what I didn't realize since I have now been back in is that she was giving me her spin on what happened, which amazingly enough was quite different than the therapist's spin on it. Although I love Victoria, her representation of the facts of a situation has never been her greatest strength, so it was interesting to see that from what the therapist told me she was not actually saying what Victoria claims she said in the first place. Victoria said the therapist encouraged her to leave me, the therapist said she told her it is not fair to continue to state she will leave if she doesn't. When asked if she was done (with our relationship), Victoria claims to have answered yes, but the therapist heard her say "I don't know". She heard what she wanted to hear and twisted it. It is not that it didn't happen, but she heard what she wanted to hear.

Without pointing fingers - because it does no good - I still am one that believes that the role model of your parent of the opposite sex shapes your relationships in the future. Seeing that my mother was - and still is - a highly unstable, angry, emotional wreck who never developed a very effective way of dealing with her own issues, I know that has set the stage for all of the women in my life and there has been a common theme. This starts with the first woman - Sharon - she was the first I ever kissed or made love to, and was in love with at the time - she was a troubled woman suffering from schizophrenia and lacked the strength to make any type of decision on a daily level . This unstable theme holds all the way down the relatively short list of women in my life, every woman I have known has been highly troubled and somewhat unstable. The next woman - Brigit - an Italian Jew with amazingly large and beautiful breasts - was such a control freak that it was difficult to be around her - well when the sex wasn't happening anyways - and when sex became a blatant part of the control - it was too much for me to take. Karen - although I lived with her and loved her - and I still do love her - had been through hell with the passing of her mother at 3 and then a wicked abusive stepmother stepping in, and her abandonment issues seemed to make my inevitable abandonment of her a self-fulfilling prophecy. Raulin - a very sexy Latina woman - had alcohol issues, and her issues with sex and intimacy - even though I had some of the best sex ever with her - you can point to her own possible molest as a child and I was in lust/love with her too - but it was like clutching at straws - and when she started running away I called her on it by not allowing her to come back - as much as I wanted to. So by the time Victoria came around, I kind of felt that I had a bit of a sneak preview in that she was a bit of each and every one of them.

I could see the writing on the wall from the beginning. She was there, but then she was trying to back out - even in the first months I was with her. She was telling me I should be with someone else, she was scared of the intimacy that she so desperately needed, she didn't like me living like a slob, wearing cheap shoes and dressing like a complete fucking idiot. I remember when we had some dumb dispute - I am not sure exactly what it was - she may have been upset I wasn't taking her out to dinner, or she thought I was too blame from some very unpleasant physical symptoms that developed from sex - whatever it was - she was running away even then and I was supposed to meet her at Balboa Park in San Diego, but I couldn't find her. I had this very crucial thought in my mind. I knew a pattern was set in motion. I knew that if I threw in the towel with her, that ultimately I would just keep finding her again and again in other women. So I thought this is too big for me to fight - this pattern of women in my life. If I met a stable woman with a good foundation there would be no allure. So as sick as the whole thing was, it was my sickness - being drawn to sick women - and nobody could ever accuse me of being the most mentally stable man in the world anyways - so I thought no - I am not backing away from this because Victoria was the most stable of the unstable women I had known. I know it is a complete contradiction, but she is stable in her own way. This is a woman who endured - most likely - sexual advances from her father - some of which were repressed, an abusive distant mother who hit her more than she spoke to her, she had the intelligence and insight to question a very abusive culture where women are slaves with no rights - and when I met her coming off a rebound from a husband who had beaten her, you would think she would be completely shut down - and even though she was close to it - I saw a strength and resiliency to come through all of these things and somehow of all the women I had known previously on an intimate level, I had the idea that I wanted to be with her. And almost 12 1/2 years later I still am.

I love her and it has been hell at times, sometimes even it still is - but I still love her and have no regrets. Sure it's easy to be in touch with other couples who have much more of a life in the bedroom than I do, but everyone has their own issues to face. Envy is a wasted emotion because you can only live your own life. Sometimes we can go for a long time without it happening at all, but even when it seems hopeless, when I have heard her once again proclaim we are done there, it can never happen again, we always seem to gravitate back to it. I know it is rare that she actually gets off, and the older we get the less frequent it becomes. At the beginning on some survival instinct she was ready for it all the time. Then it started to taper down. Last time she was into it, a Mexican painter student of hers was really getting her worked up, and she wanted him but that sexual energy had nowhere to go and she was receptive to me. Some might take that personally, but hell - whatever works. One time she even got off on the idea that I was going to physically re-unite with Karen. Still - even if the wait is long - when I do make love to her again, I feel like I am at home and I know she is the woman I still want to be with even after years of a struggle.

Victoria once observed that my sister seems to live the role of a little girl in her marriage. The husband provides everything for her - takes care of her - even feeds her (she won't eat if he doesn't) and she acts and talks just like a little teenager. As she explained to my brother, that is where she is safe after all of the hurt she has endured - from the endless screaming of my mother to her sexual assaults and physical abuse in one of her relationships. She is safe there. Victoria seemed to understand that. So imagine my surprise when the therapist without hearing anything about my sister - seemed to paint Victoria the same way. The same pattern is there. In a broken environment growing up, Victoria dreamed of running away and finally did that in her mid teens when her father started asking her to sit on his lap. She moved in with a Wiccan priest twice her age who replaced her father. She had some sex with him, but it didn't last. When she married Stuart - who was completely unstable and beating her up - running away was the right thing. So in her model - as a little girl - running away is what you do. So she talks about it, dreams of it, plans it all the time with me. But I am not hurting her. I don't beat her up. Sometimes the sexuality unfortunately is a connection with her past and there is no way around that. I can't turn it off - I am a sexual being. She in turn has emotional needs and needs to be held. One can't happen without the other. At some point I believe it can get better there, but for now the compromise is it happens some times, other times there are long breaks in between, but it never goes away.

The therapist observed all of her plans to actually go somewhere are disconnected and foggy with no foundation in reality. There is nothing holding them up. She wants to go to school full time and be independent, but she struggles to complete one local community college class without being overwhelmed with fear. She hated San Diego when I met her there - she was ready to move back to Chicago when I met her - but she never did. Now that we are here she has an idea that moving back with her friend Marlene is the answer - that somehow she will raise a very demanding child completely on her own, go to school full time, and become independent. The therapist found it very interesting that Marlene lives not in Chicago, but in San Diego - the place she wanted to get away from. What about the four animals she adores - the two dogs and cats - that she has an easier time expressing affection for - what happens to them - I can't take care of them on my own. And her beloved Chicago - there is not one person in her family she would want to move back in with - including her mother, brother, or any of her sisters. She has no friends there who would take her in. Living alone and paying the bills - she relies on me for that - not just for the money but to actually take the time to get the payments out and get them on time. So long story short - she will always be fixated on something - that with me anyways - will never happen. Because on some level she knows she has a foundation and love here that she will not get anywhere else. It scares her - the intimacy - because she has never been loved before in a way that was consistent and stable, so she cannot accept it now. But here it is.

Meanwhile - my mother confused me by being affectionate at times and being an endless screaming witch at other times - so to me love and rejection experience are intertwined. So my pattern works well here too because when I am rejected - physically - it is familiar to me. When I feel rejection I become physically and emotionally down - my heart hurts (broken heart as cheesy at it sounds becomes a real symptom), I am lethargic, on the verge of tears constantly, everything takes an effort. I relive the hurt I experienced with my mother all the time. So where some in my situation might have said fuck this and moved on, I take the emotional blows because it is familiar territory. There is just enough love and intimacy here to hold out because if the rejection was all I experienced it would be too much to take. But on some dysfunctional miracle that holds this mess together here, when it gets that bad somehow Victoria knows it and we always seem to make up in the bedroom at the right time before it gets too far in that direction. It seems that on our 13th year together there is some built in survival mechanism that keeps us together and keeps the bad times from getting too bad. When I fell in love with Renee on line and was desperate enough to consider being with her physically, we found the right therapist and actually experienced a brief upswing where we both enjoyed sex for a while. Every time she is drawn to someone, she seems to have the sense to know acting on it physically would get her nowhere. We come back to each other - we always do - because on some level we know we belong together.

So she is hurtful at times - I know that experience well - she says things she doesn't always mean and I have to hear her and let her speak without taking her literally - because what she says is not what she really means on a deeper level. She is reliving her own hurt and her own distrust of love and I have to distance myself from it and not take it personally. Somehow within this dysfunctional mess of two broken hearts and minds who have taken their share of hurt growing up, there is the waiting flower of love like a rose waiting to come up from the cracks of a concrete sidewalk. I have to hold out in the times of apparent hopelessness and never give up. As long as I continue to believe in love - love will always find me - one way or the other. Today is Thanksgiving and I give thanks for the love that is in my life. It is a long and lonely road at times, but even so - love is always there if you continue to believe in her.

Brokedown Palace

Goin to leave this Broke-down Palace

On my hands and my knees I will roll roll roll

Make myself a bed by the waterside

In my time - in my time - I will roll roll roll
In a bed, in a bed by the waterside I will lay my head

Listen to the river sing sweet songsto rock my soul

Ollabelle is one of my favorite recent groups so to see them doing their cover of this song at this highly emotional point in my life was just bringing tears running down my face as I watched it.

God damn why does life have to be so hard? I know I'm lucky to have a job when many are losing their houses and starving, and it's not that I am not grateful, but it's enough to take on this time of year when the daylight is nearly cut in half over the peak time of year for me, but to take on the seemingly insurmountable obstacles of my marriage on top of it almost seems too much. I know some were speculating that my younger brother was on the verge of a divorce after his wife was absentee on the Love Boat, but are we the ones who are really heading there? I chose a recommended therapist for our latest wave of counseling, and after the first session with my wife this lady is strongly urging her to consider separation. I also saw this lady and she seemed pretty solid to me - so here is the recommended diagnosis and is that where we are headed? It seems pretty darn bleak and I didn't sleep much last night. I ended up staying up with Victoria and holding her and she had me laughing - once again - and in some ways she is my best and closest friend, and yet sex has a way of fucking everything up because you can't just make it go away. This year my desire has been down, but sometimes it comes back and the counselor told V that if she goes through with it without really enjoying it she is a prostitute who is betraying herself. So maybe that is the case and if that is then how can that issue possibly be resolved? It may have diminished, but I have a sex drive and I do desire love - even if it is not constant - I can't live a brother sister life with someone I have a desire for. I was hoping another wave of counseling would turn us around the way it once did a few years back, and instead we are already talking about separating. I am one of those impossible optimists and even though sometimes it is hard to get through the day without tears streaming down my face and the heaviest of hearts, I still believe we belong together and can work this out - even if we have to separate to figure that out. As far as the answer to our sex struggles, I just don't know what it is but there has to be one somewhere. All in all - a pretty depressing situation and sometimes I just don't know how I even deal with this or get through it.

You don't always show your sweet side

I've seen you in the kitchen cookin' me supper
I listened to you bitchin' I watched you suffer
I still love you baby 'cause I know you
Don't mean to do the cruel things you do
I've seen you sewin' buttons on your shirt
I've seen you throwin' up when your stomach hurt
I'll stick by you baby through thick and thin
No matter what kind of shape you're in

from Sweet Side by Lucinda Williams

This is my point of view from one side of a marriage. It is not right or wrong as it is my perspective and I address this letter to you. I try to write this as objectively as peacefully as possible, even though it would be very easy to turn it into an angry tirade, blame you, say it's all your fault, but since we share this space each other, and chose each other - even right now - at this very moment, time and space - to be around each other - regardless of those I'd really like to be somewhere else thoughts - never mind that - here we are - at this moment - together right now - by mutual choice. Choices have been made - repeatedly. Ever day of the 12 years we have been together we have chosen for one reason or another to stay with each other. And yet for 10 of those 12 years I have heard plans and desires of yours to be other than this place. From the very first "I'm leaving you" about 10 years ago - when I was convinced it was really going to happen, to dozens of dozens more - to the point now when I hear it - in all due respect - I don't really attach much credence to it.

It's not that I don't believe you feel like you mean it when you say it. I completely believe you say it with full belief that you do intend for it to happen. But one problem is - it never does happen. Not to say that I am pushing you to either go or stay. I only want to hold you, I don't want to tie you down - as a certain song says. But it kind of comes down to the old saying - shit or get off the pot. After so many years of hearing this - shit - for lack of a better word - I start to believe it is nothing but - well - shit. And then I feel like someone is crapping all over me. So unless you have immediate plans to put this plan into motion, why do you need to keep telling me this same lie over and over? Frustrated - yes - I know you are - and I share your frustration. Somewhere else always sounds better. You would love your beloved Chicago, I would love a nymphomaniac who wanted constant sex all the time. And yet - again - here we are - stuck with the choices we have made - both of us. Another place sounds better, sounds like the answer to everything - but again - here we are. And it some point it all comes down to facing your own writhing guts when there is no place left to turn to - no refuge in sex, drugs, alcohol, mind numbing TV, or medicating junk food. It's just the place they talk about in medication - that numbing silence that can either calm one's mind or send it to the brink of insanity. So my proposal here - as long as we are together - whether that means one more day - one more decade - or an entire lifetime - is to try to make the best of it. Yes - being on your own sounds great. For some single mothers - being on their own - it means working two minimum wage jobs 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, struggling constantly to make ends meet. It is not as glamorous as it sounds. And then add going to school on top of that. Where would this happen? With your family - your supportive family - the same family that does not approve of the way our daughter acts, the same one that always saw you as the black sheep, the same one you will never see eye to eye with? Or with Marlene - the same woman who left you on Thanksgiving with a bowl of cold chili, the same Marlene, almost incapable of taking care of herself, who has never been too patient with children, let alone a difficult one. Is she the answer? Or is it the ideal that it will be on your own - independent of everyone, needing nobody. Can that really work, raising a child? Can any of us really survive on our own.

I know I am far from perfect. I know I may have caused you pain in the past. Maybe every time in the interest of pursuing my own desires you have had to relive an uncomfortable experience that you did not care to re-live. Maybe that has led to simmering rage - to relive and express that simmering rage every time you make a comment like I am leaving you, I would rather be on my own, or look at those old man clothes you wear, or look how incompetent you are compared to my father or my Latin associates - and maybe on some unconscious level those comments that seem filled with rage seem justified to you. I must admit I do feel hurt and pain when you say them. But I think in saying them you are hurting yourself as well. Do you really need to keep saying these things - and better yet do you really mean them? As another song says - can you say what you mean, and do you mean what you say? As the old saying goes, isn't it better to not say anything then to say anything out of spite and hate? I have been trying to spend more time around you lately, but every time I do it seems like one of these comments comes up? Is the answer then, spending less time around each other - and that you are in fact now finally going to move out and live up to what you have been saying you would do for over 10 years now?

Whatever you need to do, you have my support but every day you are around me - I believe both of us need to show mutual respect, and choose not to say the first thing we happen to say or think, just because maybe that is what one of our parents did. You are welcome in my home every moment you want to be here. I made a vow and commitment to God and the government that I would take care of you in times of sickness and health. This is a time of sickness. And I don't believe everything you say, even if I do feel hurt by it. Because 12 years of being around me speaks for itself, even if you have spent a considerable amount of those years stating you wish you were elsewhere. Because I love you as much as I do, I believe if you can be any happier away from me than with me I encourage you to chase that dream before your time does expire. At the same time, I am pretty confident that on the flip side there are many equally valid reasons to stay with me - as despite my shortcomings - shortcomings that have been made clear to me repeatedly and often in not the friendliest manner, I do love you, and will alway support you even in times of sickness. But in the spirt of the Great loving Goddess, Buddha, and every high spirit that we believe in, I ask that in the time we do continue to choose to be around each other, we make every effort to be as kind, loving and compassionate to the other person as possible. As long as we can do this, I believe we are good for each other. But if this is not possible, well - than as long as we are living together, we should make every possible effort to avoid and not be around one another, as this is nothing but hostile, and resentful energy. I can sign up for every possible volunteer effort out of town. We can do all activities completely apart, and avoid each other if we have nothing good to say to each other. Personally - I think we can do better than that.

Obama has it

I don't want to be one of those typical bloggers who devotes 100% of the time to politics and following every move of the one I am for or against. I vote Democrat, but I honestly wasn't real excited by Gore, Kerry, or Clinton - even if I did vote for them. What I don't like about the Republican party is the alignment with the extreme born again Christians, and the notion that religion should interfere with politics to affect issues such as abortion and stem cell research. Although my brother was correct in nothing I was a fan of Ayn Rand, what drew me to her was not her commitment to pure market capitalism, but the issue of individuality and the ability to stand out in a crowd and be true to your self. I will always like that part of her philosophy, but since as she says you are either 100% for or against her, I guess I am against now because I have never been 100% for anything. I do believe there has to be an incentive for certain kinds of work. If a Walmart cashier is paid as much as a heart surgeon, the incentive is taken away - so some people inevitably need to earn more money than others. But I also think if the rich get richer and the poor get poorer to extreme- as seems to be the case now - where all the wealth is concentrated in the hands of a select few, so that people lose their houses, and don't have the coverage to see a doctor, I don't think that works either. In short there has to be a balance between capitalism - for incentive - and socialism - to regulate the inherent need for power and destructive greed - which I believe in stark contradiction to Ayn Rand's philosophy, does not necessarily result in the common good overall. People do stupid things - get greedy - cheat - rig the books - make dumb investments - pollute - and then look what is happening now on Wall Street and the world overall. On the socialist side, I don't see a great crime in taking care of the sick and dying - those who can't afford health care. I see a selfish end in the unselfish act of taking care of others - if we live in a healthy society, that helps the individuals who live in it. If the sick and dying are lining the street - as the case with very stark rich/poor distributions - such as Mexico - that is a tragedy for everyone involved. So in so many words - I think the center is better than any extreme and that sums up how I feel - in so many words about politics.
When Obama took the stage at yesterday's rally here in the Reno area, I felt the incredible energy that once drew me to see the Grateful Dead as many times as I did. The crowd was ecstatic - in my You Tube film you can see a young lady (I think) jumping up at down the way I did when I first heard "Scarlet Begonias" or "Dark Star" at a Grateful Dead concert. There was an incredible energy and Obama didn't have to say some kind of phony "my friends" because it was clear that he was connected to the crowd. It was there in his body language, his mannerism, who he was. He didn't seem to be putting on an act - he was just being himself - he was one of us but he was the one with the collective magic and gift to be the one - of us - who was doing the talking. I felt like I could - in another set of circumstances - sit down and chat with him and it would be like talking to an old friend. You feel like you know him - the same way we felt like we knew Jerry Garcia - even if you don't know him, but there is not an aura of I am better than you I see in so many politicians.
We arrived at 7:30 after all waking up at 5:00 AM, and because I had found the location of the baseball park at the University of Nevada Reno location on line, I wasn't fumbling around looking for it, and we found a somewhat convenient spot in a lot. Maybe why I am always drawn to Democrats is they seem like they are the true down to earth people, people not hung up on wealth, status, or power but more people who generally speaking are looking out for the common good. I always see more of a selfishness in Republicans - I've got mine - so fuck you - lower my taxes and you are on your own. Damn it I worked hard, so you work hard too and you maybe are lucky enough to hit the lotto like I did, if not - fuck you - not my problem. That was impression of the "Contract of America" among other things. I know - we all like to see ourselves as cowboys, and damn to hell the "free loaders" who collect from the system and take welfare or health care. Nobody likes a freeloader, but on a larger scale, sucking up a disproportionate amount of the world's resources - oil among them - and belching out a huge amount of pollution and having this mis-match contribute to worldwide poverty and hunger - aren't we on a certain collective level, all freeloaders, here in this country - at least those who can afford it? Why do I deserve good food, TV, power and electricity more than a starving man in Africa.. because I am American and that makes me entitled? That to me is hypocrisy. I take more of the Buddhist approach - and adopt the previously spoken line that when one is not free, all are not free, and when one is oppressed, all are. When people in this world are going hungry and sick, it affects all of us - because we are all one organism.
I am a realist. I don't think Obama just takes office, waves a magic wand, and makes this all go away. The economic crisis does not go away overnight. I was against the Iraq invasion from day one and I believe the economic, political, and moral repercussions will be devastating for decades to come. This "war on terror" which I see more as world class warfare than a war on ideology, can only really be solved when billions are not living in hunger and poverty - and I don't see how one man can really change the destructive consumption and waste built into our collective American consciousness, because this has been centuries in the making.
Even so - when I see Obama speak, and possibly even risk his life in his run for president as the first African American doing this, I see the courage of Martin Luther King who also knew his own life was in danger by doing what he believed in. I don't see a phony George Bush, who wrapped himself in his born again Christian righteousness, and then paid back all the companies who put him in office with his favoritism of the wealthy, and business as usual corruption that ended up with one of the worst policy invasions of all time, the invasion of Iraq. Bush didn't really seem to care about anybody but those who took care of him. In Obama I see somebody who wants to change the country for the better because he does care - and I see sincerity and a sense of reality in him that I don't see in many politicians.
At his speech I saw a real presence in him. He made us laugh - he was funny - but at the same time he looked like a leader, someone who genuinely wants to steer the country back not to payoff the rich elite as Bush did, but someone who really wants the best for all of us. I know every point of mine can be debated by Republican and religious conservatives. I know some feel as passionate about McCain and Palin (who drew about 1/3 of the same crowd numbers when she came here a few days earlier) and who am I to say who is right or wrong. I tend to see Republicans as a combination of ignorant and selfish, but I don't hold it against them. They want what is right just like I do, I just don't agree with how they make it happen.
In short, I left the rally buzzing - feeling like I had witnessed history, feeling like I had seen a man with a real presence to him, and I went back and watched my little home made video of him, where on You Tube his physical size is not much bigger than a thumbtack due to my cheap camera, but even watching that I picked up on the energy and excitement of the crowd, and the power of his movement and body language even from a far. I was close enough to actually see him better than my footage came out, and though he has hit the trail and moved on - I still feel like he is here and I still feel a connection. God help us if he loses, but if he wins I am going to feel a real sense of joy and optimism that I haven't felt in years. No - he is no miracle worker - one person can't do it alone - but if there is anybody who can steer us out of the mess we are in, I truly believe he is the guy.

Addicted to love

Victoria read to me some of the characteristics of addictive love in a book she saw. Of course - like anything - some fit - some did not. I take a look at where I am now. At some point there is a selfish desire that makes intimate love happen - sex feels pretty darn good - and it is nice to have it with a new woman. I was very happy when I first started this relationship. But at some point - the only way love can survive is to slowly transition from selfish to selfless - because on a pure selfish level, the payoff starts to lessen over time. Speaking for my own anyways. It seems like anything will diminish over a period of time - hence the law of diminishing returns. Here I am now - 43 years old - and I am noticing that the testosterone level is not what it once was. Sure I take care of personal business quite frequently, but the idea of sex is starting to seem like a lot of trouble and effort. Sara loves the song "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" and when I listen to it I almost feel like it doesn't mean the same thing at 43 as it did at age 20 - when just looking at a picture of a nude woman in a Playboy or Penthouse magazine was enough to send me through the roof. Now my friend e-mails me something like that and I think - yeah - they're kind of pretty - actually they're starting to look now like they are young enough to be my daughter.

Sex has held us together for a long time now, somewhat grudgingly - but now I amazingly find myself backing away from it. It seems forced, contrived - now neither of us are really into it, and simulating it at this time seems preferable to making it happen. Is this a permanent state? I think that is another key to love - to realize that even when there is a bad time going on that it is not permanent. So even when I feel like the last place I want to be is around my wife, when our mutual irritations with each other feed into unpleasant comments, when love becomes nothing more than drudgery and the feeling of I would rather be absolutely anywhere but here, when the discussions of maybe we'd be better off apart than together, so that we'd be "free" to chase that elusive romance that lies waiting - the one that is going to fulfill all the hidden repressed desires and passions - that is when the selfless aspect of love comes in. In "Husbands and Wives" the man found a younger woman who loved sex and he had a great time with her, only to eventually come back to his much less sexually interested wife - and he realized she was the one he really belonged with all along, despite the illusive temptation of something better.

So I look at the big picture now when the talks of separation come up. I know I love my wife. I don't love her because I hope to get a great sexual experience, because right now it isn't in the cards. I am optimistic at some point it will come back, but sometimes in the hope of something coming back, letting go has to happen first. I know both of us at times dream of being "somewhere else" - maybe a bustling city for her, maybe a hot passionate romance for me - and yet here we are. Right here - now - this. I don't love everything about my wife. Gone are the days of putting her on a pedestal. When she said nobody would be interested in you - I didn't like the comment, or the way it was said. I didn't care for the implied cruelty within it, but I didn't take it personally either. Because first of all, I know it is not true - and even if it was - there is more to what "I" am then who is interested in me, because the older I get the inevitability will be that less and less will find me attractive, but that is part of the eventual letting go. It is not me - who is interested in me - or repulsed by me - I see myself as a pure spirit that transcends the opinions of others. So within minutes - that is done - and now what. The day goes on. I don't love her because I imagine her to be a wonderful, kind person because I have seen her cruel side. We all have it. Nobody is perfect. Kindness is mixed with cruelty.

This is as far from addictive love as I can imagine, because there is no real payoff now that sex seems to be at least for the time being removed from the picture. I love here because after 12 years she is a part of who I am. I love her because we have a daughter who depends on us to guide her and we can do a much better job of it together than apart. The ultimate biological aspect of love is to bring up offspring and that is what we are doing. I love her because if we did separate this whole household of cuddly animals and one child would be no more. I love her because I believe we are better off together than apart, even if it is a hell of a lot of hardwork, drudgery, bitterness, and tension - and the feeling that there has to be something better. That is where selfless comes in - as I am at a restaurant I would rather not be at because I know it is where she wants to be, or I am driving her to her doctor, standing in a long line for her medicine, feeling that I am there to take care of her in "sickness and health" just like the vows said - because I believe whether times are going great and we are in la la land, or we are in a rut and just want to get the hell away from each other - it is the same big picture, the two sides of the same coin. I am not going to back down when times are tough, the hormones are going downhill, old age approaching in the form of middle age is rearing its ugly head, when the whole charm is long gone, because I see we have something that has kept us together for more than 12 years, more than most couple on average will last, and I am not going to walk away. I know even laughing, holding hands, hugging, just doing the basics that go beyond sex, are still satisfying in their own way. I know I will sometimes lose it and voices may be raised, and remember Sara falling to her feet in desperation at seeing us fight, knowing how frightening and upsetting it is for her to think we can separate, and I know that I will do everything I can to not let my daughter down, or let my wife down, even if she doesn't want to f___ing be here - I still have a karmic responsibility to take care of every moving living creature in this household - being the one main source of income here - and that by the grace of God I am in a position to have a job to do that in a time when people are losing their jobs, and losing their houses, and it is my karmic reward to be in a place to do that.

So you call this addictive love? Right now it feels like anything other than addiction. It seems like a lot of hard work and hard times, but I am not going to back down from it. That to me is selfless and that to me is the true meaning of love - getting outside of yourself and doing your part in caring for and taking care of others who are counting on you. Even when you don't really feel like it. You do it because you know that is your place in life. So here I am.

There is no pain you are receding

"There is no pain, you are receding.

A distant ships smoke on the horizon.

You are only coming through in waves.

Your lips move but I cant hear what youre sayin.

When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse

Out of the corner of my eye

I turned to look but it was gone

.I cannot put my finger on it now

The child is grown, the dream is gone

I have become comfortably numb."

Comfortably numb might be a nice place to be now. If I lived my life by those who wanted me to take anti-depressants, that might be where I would be. Instead here I am - doing a little better than I was last night when I sat there lying on my bed in a dark room, tears streaming down my face, feeling hopeless, feeling angry at the injustice and misery of living, feeling life was just a cruel, ironic joke, feeling like a failure for taking apart my leaking bathtub faucet as I had successfully done a few years ago, but this time failing to fix the problem and causing more of a drip than I had before, knowing I was going to have to throw in the towel and call a plumber who will probably charge me something I can't afford for something I - at least in theory - could have fixed myself if not for the old plumbing faucet cartridge being so corroded and stuck that I could only get the middle of it out, not just have it pop right out as it does on the Moen website instructions. In the spirit of my father, I did give it the college try and attempt repairs, I just came up short and I was taking the defeat of the faucet very personally, like my failure to fix it was a symbol of my own inherent failure.

Maybe they were right all along - maybe I am "bipolar" - even if it is more of a controlled bipolar. I alternate from feeling spiritually connected and grateful to be alive, when I feel like I am in part of the flow of existence, to feeling hopeless, infatuated with death, and walking around with "tear stained eyes" and a physical feeling of having a heavy heart when I am on the other side. Each time it doesn't keep me from doing my job and taking care of my family. I just got a compliment from an upper level manager for my ability to continue to "razzle dazzle" the customers, all because I hit it off pretty well with an 84 year old customer, wrote him a check as I always do for his laminate floor damages, and getting a little personal and telling him of my love for music and playing guitar seemed to really impress a guy, who in person as a child met his idol at the time, John Philip Sousa, shortly before his passing. So point being - whether I am on the high side or low side, I have enough sense to not let either side take me too far, which is why I seem to get by without the wonders of pharmaceuticals.

But that is not to say it isnt' a bitch at times. Last night, I was really feeling horrible and today I forced myself against my immediate wishes to drag my ass to the gym and do my hour of cardio and about 200 weight reps, speaking to an Iranian-American Southwest pilot named JT - who shared with me his disgust with American tendencies and values. Sometimes you just have to get your ass out there as I did this morning, have a little human contact, get some exercise, do what it takes to grab a little bit of balance, and just hope that the inevitable gloominess will come to an end, but when it hits, man it is a motherfucker. When those death thoughts seem so prevalent, I just have to remind myself it is temporary and think of my own lyrics "I surrendur to death but I don't need to be dead" or "don't be the pain" and realize that what is so strong at the point to make me a crying babbling idiot, does not have to take hold of me. It does pass - like a solid mountain as our local meditation teacher uses as a symbol - it is a hell of a storm - just like the grey gloominess of our first snow here with face biting cold, but it is going to go away. It just seems so real and permanent whenever it is happening. I am not suicidal, but sometimes I think when it is my time to pass on to whatever lies next, I will feel somewhat relieved to not have to go through the down side any more.

On some level I feel like my own depression I seem to be experiencing now is somehow or another synchronistic with our country's financial troubles. I try to stay away from politics. On My Space, I have Barack Obama as my first listed "friend", I've voted Democrat ever since I can remember and I always will, but I am not going to go on about every move the candidate makes, or how much Sarah Palin appears to me to be a religious right fanatic as the second coming of Hitler, because I just don't get caught up in it. I vote Democratic, hope we get the hell out of Iraq soon, hope whoever gets in there does what's best for our country, but I don't dwell on it too much. The financial meltdown is a little different though and it speaks to our collective culture in a lot of ways. Sometimes I wonder if a financial collapse is a blessing or curse or combination of both. I was very much in agreement with columnist Lenore Skenazy writing about A Great Depression for Kids, but I think that applies to American adults as well as the kids addressed here. Not counting those that are homeless or living in ghettos, I think the majority of us are spoiled sick and have a sense of "entitlement". There is a collective American arrogance that somehow we are better than the rest of the world, and that our excessive proportional use of the world's resources is justified, because hey - we deserve it - even if as a result of this excessive consumption of ours, those resources we unevenly consume lead to excessive pollution, global warming, and maybe somebody else in the world starving to death because those resources are taken away. Hey - Fuck them - that's too bad, but I need my two all beef patties, even if deforestation somewhere is the result, I need to travel all over the place because I feel like it, even if pollution and global warming result, I need my fucking 42 inch Plasma TV to keep up with the Joneses cus damn it they have one, and if they have one, I deserve one too. I think of the "Samsara" concept in the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, where you are thirsty and drink a glass of sand to quench your thirst, and our thirst for nice things, for the desire to go on cheesy cruises, have the best shit, have nice landscaping to show off to our neighbors - all seem to me part of a collective sickness that western culture eats up. TV brainwashes us constantly into buying the latest car to be fashionable, wearing the nice clothes and perfumes, even drinking the right beer to increase sex appeal - that somehow all this stuff will make us happy. Every day on the news we hear that god forbid the economy is doing poorly because of all things SALES are down. Consume - consume - and everyone is happy. But at what cost - not only in resources exhausted for the world around us, but our own spiritual cost for the endless desire to have something that cannot be obtained.

I don't know if she reads this any more, but one of our friends out this way - perfect example - they bought a house for 150K - got it as a steal from their parents - and then went ahead and borrowed about another amount close to double that to do everything from re-model the kitchen to buy a custom new van with doors that open by themselves, and spend the rest going on their constant travels and vacations. The real jaw dropper was when she told me they borrowed an amount to cover the actual payments. Why not - re-model, cash in on some equity, make a killing on the house that could only increase in value, and then get the hell out and move to Seattle and live happily ever after. Never mind the hygiene issues that are quite apparent when you walk into the house due to noticeable traces of urine. I have nothing against them - they are nice people and their kids have played with Sara - but I continue to find this type of behavior not only shocking, but completely destructive. Barring some miracle, I don't see how they hold onto their house. Last I checked the husband makes a decent, but not overwhelming salary, the wife works a little part time, and they had their second kid, may have a third, and have a barn full of animals to care for.

Yes - the Wall Street execs - using creative terms like leveraging, credit default, whatever they were doing and whatever they call it - in simple terms were doing nothing more than gambling on the strength of the market - that the bubble would never burst. In the event that it did, they had shakey "insurance" policies with no adequate funds to back them up, and as long as the gravy train kept coming they could inflate the numbers, own their mini-mansions and live the high life of the American dream. I don't see them as any more or less guilty than my friends who decided to borrow double the amount of their house to live a lifestyle they can't really afford, because from top to bottom it's all part of the same delusion and at some point every bubble is going to burst, just like every high time of mine is inevitably going to fall into gloom and doom. I seem to know first-hand what many in a collective state of denial had to learn the hard way. Apparently even billionaire Warren Buffett warned of coming doom, but as long as the gravy train was flowing nobody cared too much about tomorrow. It is all part of the same sickness the way I see it - Wall Street - Main Street - we all buy into the same arrogant lie of entitlement, and when we all end up on our asses - maybe that's where we need to be to balance it out. For me it is a mere matter of having somewhere between 100 to 150, 000 in dollars on paper anyways, gone, but life goes on - I have a job - I don't see myself foreclosing - at least any time soon - and I try to live at least as responsibly as I can, though honestly we have our excesses too. I resisted the temptation to dip further into debt to redo a lot of badly needed home repairs - from cabinets falling apart to cheap-ass low grade carpet with holes in it needing replacement - to realize that I can only afford so much after the first re-fi that covered the roof and new siding, among other things.

My re-fi shows I succumbed to it too, but I at least did not get too far out of line. I do not owe more than the very decreased value of my house, and if I were to sell now I'd probably break even, but sure it was a shock to have the equity line stripped down dramatically, and the 401K drop down to 50% dramatically. We may scrape, but we'll get by. For others - losing their jobs, their houses, losing it all - I can only imagine what hell they are going through - but sadly to me - if we all just lived a little bit more modestly and realistically, none of this would have had to happen. But when we all go overboard, collectively, consuming more than we are entitled to at the expense of the remainder of the poplulation of the world, running off on our cheesy little cruises and travels, buying our stupid little toys - consuming - consuming - consuming - then what the hell did anyone really expect and is it so bad now that some of us can't afford the toys we had before. Some cows out there must be living it up - probably now some people who can't afford to buy steak are saving their lives.

So - I have to stop somewhere and there may be more to say - but a kick in the ass and a depression is often something we need to balance our delusions of grandeur. In the end it's not the end of the world and somehow we'll get by. Maybe we'll even learn a thing or two in the process. Once can only hope.

One silver lining to add - thanks to the help of a neighbor who works in construction and takes apart cars in his spare time, he yanked out the old cartridge and now my faucet is working great - no drips!

I think I might be sinking

lyric from "Going to California"

I react to the seasons. It seems to be the way it is. In the spring and summer an entire amazing universe opens up to me as I play my music with the sun coming down over the mountains and the moon bursting up at night. I feel alive and connected, and then some time right around the fall - it shuts off. Every year this time of year it seems like someone I am close to has died and then my eyes seem to be constantly watering and I feel a sense of grief and loss. That is what fall and inevitably winter seem to represent to me. Spring and summer burst with life and hope, and then "summer dies and August flies, and then world grows dark and mine" as stated by Robert Hunter. I guess losing about 60 plus in your IRA account in a matter of few weeks doesn't necessarily help much, but I would probably be feeling this anyways. An amazing sense of profound grief - here it is - the first snow of the year already, it is cold and freezing out. Our first attempt at gardening -a huge success yielding incredible squashes, zucchinis, and tomatoes from a community garden in Carson City near a grave yard - set up by University of Reno - now with the first freeze I picked the crop for the last time, and as the blowing flurries "chilled me to the bone" again - a sense of grief, loss, and sadness. I know on some level it is a part of life. As my own song says "there is more than these feelings than this plane". I know you take the ying and the yang, and that is what I do. Still - every time this hits me it's like my ass is getting kicked for the first time all over again.

Tina Fey as Sarah Palin on SNL

Rather than talking about how horrific I find Sarah Palin to be on every level, I am going to put up a link to a skit mocking the debate - I was in tears laughing so hard -

Saturday Night Live debate

Were you born an ass-hole?

See the cut up version of the song on You Tube

"Were you born an ass-hole
Or did you work at it your whole life
Either way it worked out fine
Cus you're an ass-hole tonight
Yes you're an A-S-S-H-O-L-E
And don't you try to blame it on me
You deserve all the credit
You're an ass-hole tonight"

(George Jones??)

One of my best friends, Youndy, told me I need to forgive my parents. In Unstuck it is recommended too - and I agree - forgiveness, though often monumentally difficult to achieve - is a high state of awareness. My last song about It's Over - although it does not mention forgiveness in particular, preaches the idea of moving on and not reliving the past over and over until the point of nausea. After all - today is here, and the past is gone. So the problem for me is that when the people you are trying to forgive - are just plain ass-holes. I am not stating this out of anger, but just out of plain objective fact. All my siblings at least ackknowledged me on my birthday, but my ass-hole parents did not - which is their choice - or at least their ass-holish way of making a statement that they are not speaking to me because of my little review of their ass-hole fest on the ocean back in July. (Card finally came - a day late - signed "MOTHER AND FATHER" - no "love" so I do stand corrected, but they are still ass-holes anyways). My mom did take me to the doctor when I needed to go, fed me, and clothed me - I'll give her that - but she was still a chronic ass-hole. She was an ass-hole when she - whacked out of her mind - drove me to the shrink and told me she couldn't believe one of her kids was going to a shrink. She has been a chronic ass-hole to all the in-laws, although one through the amazing use of smoke and mirrors has won her over, the remainder of us have seen her in her full ass-hole state. And my parents were ass-holes by pressuring me to go on the ass-hole fest, even when I didn't want to go and gave them the option of just having Sara and Victoria go. No they had to be ass-holes and insist on me going. So if they're crying about all the money they spent, well - they are ass-holes and that is just ass-hole karma. They were ass-holes by telling us we couldn't stay with them on night one, but allowing other more favorable members of the family to stay.

And I know I am an ass-hole too - "ladies you can be an ass-hole too" in the words of Frank Zappa. Growing up in a family of ass-holes, raised by ass-holes, how could I not be one? My younger brother saw me as a real ass-hole, and then spent the rest of his life being an ass-hole to me to compensate.

So I am not here to convince anyone we are a family of ass-holes, because as far as I'm concerned it's a given. My question is more - how do you use the forgiveness exercise as listed in Unstuck when in fact it is being applied to an ass-hole? So here is my solution:

Get into meditative position - breathe in - breathe out - imagine the ass-hole that you are trying to forgive. Listen ass-hole - I know you are an ass-hole - I am not going to deny it - I mean who can deny, you can't deny it's not just a change in ass-hole style. More - I just see it is your God-given task on this planet to be an ass-hole - it's in your ass-hole nature - and I forgive you for being an ass-hole. You just can't help yourself. I forgive you - ass-hole - for being an ass-hole and hope that even though I have inherited your ass-holeness from you that I don't have to be as much of an ass-hole as you are. You are forgiven - ass-hole. See the ass-hole - become one with the ass-hole - exchange the light with the ass-hole and see you and the ass-hole covered in a pool of brilliant white light. Feel compassion for the ass-hole - s/he did not chooose to be one, karma chose it for him/her. The ass-hole is living out his/her destiny. Breathe in - breathe out - repeat - doesn't that feel much better now.

Letting go

I like to think my thought process is a work in process and moves toward something positive. I hope so anyways. So in the wake of what may have looked like a very negative and angry post, (my last one), a song was born that is a lot more positive and has been up on You Tube for a week or so. It was born, not just from the last writing, but also from doing a little meditation group here in Dayton, and last time I actually sang a love song I wrote for Victoria (the one thanking her for being in my life) and my song for Sara for a small group of people outside my family, and I came back and just started thinking about living in the present and how much of a drag it is to keep reliving the past. My thoughts are - you can't run away and just act like something tragic was wonderful - because that is denial and then you start turning into a cheerleader - and as much as I'd like to be a cheerleader, it's not who I am. But I do think once the thoughts have been faced there is some point to at least attempt to put it to rest. Maybe it can't be done completely, but as I've said before, most of my songwriting these days is about striving for a sweeter way of life by describing it first in song, in the hopes that singing it enough can convert a bleak reality into a nicer one. I know it works and I think it is why overall I am happier now than I've ever been, despite all my lurking demons. So this song was brought upon by two different past entities - one being my mother who I've seen as the tormenting wicked witch who reaked havoc on my psyche, and the other being my younger brother, who basically saw me the same way I see her. It is not necesarily about forgiveness - it sounds great in concept, but a lot harder to do - especially when the person in question continues to have a negative impact on my marriage. It is more of an exercise to realize that you don't necessarily have to think about someone who is not there, the damage has been done and at some point enough is enough and there's a conscious choice in whether or not to continue to relive it. These are the words, and my You Tube site has the video:


It's over...9-8-08

Whatever has happened, isn't happening now, I've beaten it to death, beaten it into the ground, It's over, and I'm burying it now.

No matter who I've wronged, no matter who has wronged me, There are so many rapturous beautiful sights to see, but I can't see them, when I'm stuck in the past.

So righteously angry when I'm stuck in past times But how many times will I return to the scene of the crime, Or can I just let it pass.

I'm not who I was, you're not who you once were. I once saw a wicked witch, but now I just see a frightened little girl, We're all someone else now...

CHORUS...It's gone, it's gone, it's done - it's a sailing away.
..It's done, it's done, it's in the past it not now, not today....

I'm digging me a hole, six feet deep in the ground, A place she can rest, a place where I can set her down. A place for ashes and dust.

I've cried, I've screamed, I've tried to hurt myself. I've blamed myself so many times, I've even blamed someone else, My blame is buried in the grave.

Cus nobody could stop what destiny made to come, It's gone in the coffin, as of now I'm saying it's done, May my anger rest in peace.

Love is the only place that's now left behind, The hatred the anger is exiting my mind, Hate is death it's the past, only love can be now.

All hope abandon ye who enter here

Through me you pass into the city of woe

Through me you pass into eternal pain

Through me among the people lost for aye.

Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:

To rear me was the task of power divine

Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.

Before me things create were none, save things

Eternal, and eternal I endure

All hope abandon ye who enter here

I'm not sure, but I think some dude named Dante wrote that. If anyone who happens to be reading this is tired of this subject, you're not alone - because I am tired of writing about it. Yet because it is an essential part of who I am - raw guts and all - then here it comes again, or watch out here comes the big one in the words of Frank Zappa - speaking about a male prisoner who is about to be raped by a very well endowed fellow prisoner named bald headed John. Like it or not, your family - the one that raises you - leaves permanent imprints for life. I know this - I know I am doing this as well with my daughter - and although I try very hard to instill confidence in her, I have a hard time keeping my cool when in the process of demonstrating what type of salt she has by pouring it into her hand, it ends up all over the kitchen floor - especially when I am on the irritable side. I know in talking to my buddy Kirk I am told that a lot of the dysfunctional aspects of my family are a lot more common than I may realize. I know part of it is my expectation that a family is supposed to be a certain way. But hell - my job involves going to people's houses - and when I was last in Salt Lake City I saw a house area where 3 grown brothers all lived literally next door to each other. And this concept actually shocked me seeing that my brothers are all a comfortable multitude of hundreds of miles from me. I see families - extended families - interacting - grandparents and all - and maybe these things happen on some level to test me, but when they do I think it is natural that the "what if" thought process starts "dancing in my head".

So let's go back - one more time - to this cruise. NOOOOOO - not again! But forgive my obsessive personality. My brother Dan has written his first book. Despite the fact that I don't consider the old house in Palos Verdes to actually be an A-frame in the technical sense of the word, or I have yet to ever meet a 10 year old entomologist - I commend him for writing a very well conceived and descriptive book, and hiking a monster trail that even in my most masochistic moments I would never even consider doing. Anyone who does something I can't do earns my respect, and respect is earned for these items, never mind that I was not all that respectful to him growing up. For some reason - I have now read 4 chapters - (and of course I had to track down the paragraph describing the "strawberry blond sadist" that left a strange sensation of burning in my soles) - every time I read the book I have trouble sleeping. First two chapters - boom - very bad dreams. My soul brother Youndy - upon my recommendation - bought the book and couldn't put it down - burning through 150 pages in a day or so - so I think - maybe I can handle this after all. Yesterday I knock down Chapter 3 and 4 - and here I am up at 3 in the morning. Maybe some might find it disturbing to read a book where the author describes a fantasy of a particular person (that being me) - being struck down by lightning as a delicious memory, but in all honesty - considering how I treated him, I really can't blame him for wishing that - despite assurances from him that these feelings are all in the past. I can even relate in that I so much wanted to avoid this God forsaken cruise to not take place that I found myself hoping for the convenient (but painless) deaths of certain people in the family, and if that wasn't going to happen I actually reverted to sick fantasies of adding more scars to my wrists (lightning shaped ironically) and getting the job done right this time - all so that I would not have to attend this gathering. When I would share these thoughts with my wife, she'd give me the old line of something to the effect like there's something really wrong with you (tell me something I don't know) and you really need to go back into therapy (like I need one more therapist staring at me bug eyed every time I repeat the sadistic details of how my my mother treated me, things I am not creative enough to even make up if I wanted to).

But getting back to this passage, reading this stuff is just one more reminder to me of how broken our family is. When asked if there are any regrets, I used to think why have them because it does no good - and that is true - you can't change back the clock. Still - Victoria points out to me - as is the case with her older siblings - that my younger brother needed me - looked up to me as an older brother - and I betrayed him - every time I was critical - especially of his writings of all things - which to some degree - was really the worse thing I could have ever done - and I see that now - to mock somebody's creative input - regardless of what shape or form it is expressed - truly is unforgivable. And yes I was a real ass-hole. I do regret it, but what good will that do. Although I was described as a sadist, if anything I was really a masochist. I hated myself - and after countless hours in vivid details from a screaming raving lunatic disguised as my primary caregiver, telling me exactly how fucked up I was - with no defense I had no choice but to believe it. So I hated myself - to the point that I couldn't ask out a woman in my high school PE class who clearly was interested, because I wasn't good enough for her - and then out of my complete lack of confidence and paralyzed inability to move, I hated myself for not having the guts to do what I was beaten - psychologically anyways - down into doing. I know - the fact this caregiver only hit me once makes me a real pussy in the eyes of some- because if I had been beaten it would have been a lot worse - but please - don't tell me screaming like a maniac into your helpless child's ears for hours on end is better because it is an upgraded form of torture - because that's just rationalizing bullshit. So because I hated myself, I clearly didn't like him too much either. He was a threat to me - just his very existence, and my earliest memory even at the age of 4 was tormenting him. It was a side of myself I am not proud of, but nothing I can do about it - shit rolls down hill, I was treated like shit and passed it along. In some ways it is convenient for me to be the perceived demon, because then it frees them up to be the good guys and his relationship with them is far better than mine will ever be. I would like to think that when I attemped to end my own life, a bad part of me died too. Whatever you want to call me now, sadistic is not on the list. If anyone would know my wife would, and she has called me every name in the book at one time or another, but sadistic has not been named. Her first husband who called her a "piece of shit" and other lovely names, really was - and even at my most angry the best I can do is something like "shut the fuck up" before slamming the door and running out of the room. The point being - what I was I am not now - I consider myself very conscientious of the emotions and feelings of others. And yet at the same time, you cant' turn back the clock either - because thanks to my actions - despite the fucked up environment that enabled them to take place - my relationship with my brother is permanently sealed, and like it or not, I will always be perceived as the sadist to his dying day. That was very clear to me after I talked to him on the boat, and then again after reading the passage in the book. It can't be undone - it just is. Ironically - maybe because I was the shit thrower, the predator so to speak, I have some good memories with him- laughing to the point of crying at the God awful boring religious services, taking naps listening to our favorite records in the dark so we could stay up and laugh ourselves silly watching SCTV at midnight. That to me is the tragedy in all this - that what maybe could have been a close brotherhood in a better environment, became the doomed and fated cursed shell of a relationship that it presently is and always will be. But as I've said - that's bigger than both of us now. Just the way it is. Part of the difficulty I have in reading this book is seeing a whole life out there he has lived that I fell out of the loop to the point I didn't even know it was going on. Upon reading I "feel a little lost cause we've drifted away so far" in the words of Lucinda Williams.

But shifting back to this cruise, maybe it's because I am the sensitive one in the family that I had the deepest and most advertised dread of the event. In using our dysfunctional family as a case study, there are different ways of approaching the past. There is the "rah rah" side of the family, that smiles just a little too hard, cheers just a little too loudly, every time there is a family gathering - acting like we are just one big happy group - always have been. I can understand the look on the bright side approach, especially since it is not one of my strengths, but to me it often comes across as flat out avoidance and denial. Then from my perspective, seeing it gets me even more depressed. That's why certain factions of the family I will also never be close to. I kind of come across like the gloom and doomer for calling it out for what it is - at least how it appears to me - and quite honestly, it is quite difficult to get overly enthusiastic about a cheesy picture of my mother in honor of her 80th birthday, when I am still filled with rage and resentment - not only for how I was treated, but in how I continue to be treated - especially in terms of my marriage - as it seems like a lifetime of shitty upbringing wasn't quite good enough - she had to get once last grab in by doing everything possible to sabotage my marriage. I can envy Victoria's father - even though he was physically abusive, violent, and even lecherous as a drunk - before he died he actually owned it - apologized to her for his past - even though it couldn't be undone - there was actually some accountability. As for my mother, once in a while I get some little note from her like she finds it offensive how I portray these things, and I have to bite my tongue and say - YOU - find it offensive - when YOU - were the one who made my life a living hell? I was the one who lived it, I am just trying to work though it. So her perceived offensiveness for calling a spade a spade - I in turn find equally offensive, and her condescending belittling of my wife - even if it is out of her own tragic and pathetic self-loathing and insecurity - is a present problem to add to a massive list of past problems. At the first lunch meeting on board, it seemed she hid from all of us long enough for my enabling father to have us all come up to her and approach her as the Queen, although I just saw it as the cowardly hiding from years of backstabbing most of the inlaws in the family. So forgive me if I have a hard time getting excited about her 80th birthday or an age old picture of her, for that is not the association that comes to mind. And part of this fucked up drama leading up to the cruise was all the bullshit that came down on the way. I knew it was coming - part of why I didn't want to go - but since it was my fatherly duty to not deprive my daughter of such a grand event, I had to. My wife could have gone for me to spare me, but no - that was not acceptable to them. We all had to be there, right? Although when it was proposed maybe I would go without her, I guess that was okay.. - sound a little contradictory? How about this - a year - a whole fucking year ahead of time - when I decided to go, it was made clear we were not to stay at their house the night before. Too much going on - too much pressure - which might have made sense if that applied to all of us, but then I found out Dan and his wife were staying there. Then I found out we were even booked at a ratbag hell-hole hotel so we wouldn't have to stay there. But when I found out about the condition of this hotel, what were we thinking - I was told we had been WELCOME there all along! See I think I'd respect them a little more if they just came out and said - well we can't stand the bitch you're married to because she doesn't bow down to us and cater to us while we openly stab her in the heart, so we don't want her here or you either. But all this lying, blatant, ridiculous lying to the point where it's an insult to the other's intelligence because it isn't even a good lie - was all part of the maddening process of this trip. I was told so many times she was coming on this trip because she is "family". Well we lcome to the God-damn family. When she innocently asked my father on the cruise where we would meet them in Ensenada, he in so many words said get the hell away from us - we aren't hanging out with you. Basically other than seeing us at the dinner table, and having us at the ever so important photo op, he didn't want a thing to do with her - or me for that matter. Which makes it all the more bizarre to me that we were ever invited to begin with, but hey - it's a look what I can do matter - I can bring the whole family together - look at me - look how powerful I am. The powerless always seem to need to assert their power. Yes - I hate to say this - but somebody had to represent not being there to call out how messed up the whole thing was, and whether this person had some rare form of the African Measles - whatever the hell the reason was - it makes perfect sense to me that a perfect home run was just not going to be hit in such a neurotic and twisted setting.

So fast forward about 2 months after the cruise now - and asking myself why did I have to suffer through this, why did this have to happen, why did I have to blow money on putting up the animals in kennels that could have been far served to a better purpose - why as a matter of karma did I have to go through this - the answer is clear to me now - and maybe why I needed to do this. Basically to come to the unavoidable conclusion that is so crystal clear to me now - there is no hope at all for us as a family. The cruise ship was like one big floating coffin. Some I may never see again, but even worse, whether or not I do almost seems to make no difference now because we're all doing such a good job hiding from showing "a little bit of emotion" that we don't seem to be there even when we are physically present around one another . If that was the best we could do, have our father spend thousands upon thousands of dollars (hey complain all you want, it sure as hell wasn't my idea) in a forced and unnatural gathering, all to have the majority of us avoid each other most of the time, and then tell "sweet little lies" for the times we were, then the dysfunctionality is a permanent factor and we are all basically just fucked. I know I sound negative here to some, but I am just calling it for what it is. My life ain't all bad - hell - I think I believe in God now for no other reason then I can't see how I did not turn out to be dead, in prison, or hopelessly hooked on booze or drugs - because I had no foundation at all growing up. Really I shouldn't be here - relatively together for a broken person (we're all broken - that is crystal clear) - able to hold down a job and lead some sort of spiritually fulfilling existence through my music - on paper I should be dead or one of those fucked up people dependent on the state or others to take care of me. Logically I don't see how this worked out, but it did. So yes - I am bitching on one level, but calling it for what it is on another because my family and the way we have treated and will treat each other will haunt me forever. I can't get away from it - I think of them all the time - I think of Dan constantly. In some ways he never left me, but he just became a permanent ghost in my head. You can't break away from the past, but the rah rahs don't work for me - I have to call it the way I saw it and the way I see it now. Hopefully - some day (every thing's going to be different) I can move past this dismal viewing, but it's the only way I know how to take it on. Life is a mixed bag, because even in the midst of somewhat tragic circumstances, hope can flourish. I have a beautiful family, I don't go hungry, and nature and music continue to blow me away all the time and give me the constant reminder that the spiritual void I experienced for the first half of my life, is now filled in a way it never was before. So count the blessings along with the curses, I'll take what I can get.

Excerpt from "The Cactus Eaters" by Dan White

Page 169:

"It's not that the woods made me feel competent; quite the opposite. It's just that the woods made everyone in my family feel like an idiot. They were a great equalizer. Even my older brother, a strawberry-blond sadist with a weakness for Ayn Rand, was reduced to a wood louse by the sequoias. Out in the woods, he screamed with fright when yellow jackets swarmed around him. Once, while he was already panicking, I informed him that these stinging creatures were attracted to the glare of his brightly colored windbreaker, though who knows if this was true. I never claimed to be an entomologist. Out in the forest, during a sudden storm over the Minarets, my brother scanned the sky with rabbity eyes, searching for the lightning bolg I dearly hoped would roast him in his boots. That's what I loved so much about the High Sierra. It was a reliable producer of long-lasting and delicious memories."

The Music Never Stopped

Crazy rooster crowin' midnight.

Balls of lightning roll along.

Old men sing about their dreams.

Women laugh and children scream,

And the band keeps playin' on

Trying to figure out a way to start this out - a title - and drawing a blank so I'll let it come to me. That's how I do what I do - to seek it never seems to work - it seems to need to find me - hey - that's it - from my own song - maybe that's I'll how to start it. Well - anyways - I am going back in time now - a full 9 days for this one - because it is one of those nights that will stand out in my mind for a while - not necessarily because I reached the "zone" - a place I seem to reach somewhat consistently, even this morning when I was walking my dog along the base of my favorite mountain range - a range which I can see from my back yard, but even better in the open space behind our development - a range which seems to really be alive and talks to me with silent words - not necessarily words - but more a calm presence which seems to suggest a very present being in what some would see as merely a chain of rock formed by volcanoes many years ago. But as I was walking along I started singing my own songs - just out loud - no guitar present - and my recent writings "There is Only Love" - "My Sweet Love" are writings that take on a life of their own and seem to fit in quite well at the base of my beloved mountains - the same mountains that my wife always tells me something like - they're just mountains, what's the big deal. The big deal to me is they are inspiring beautiful entities that calm my soul, give me hope in the face of hopelessness, and have a mysterious presence that sums up my own relationship with what some call God. So singing these songs, with my beloved German Shepherd by my side, I can get into the zone, just like I can during my favorite time of the day when the sun is setting, and everything seems to be bursting with spirit and presence, when it seems so clear to me that so much that is unseen is present, that other dimensions beyond the ones we detect are alive and well, that everything from the wind, tree leaves, branches, birds and insects - are all in on this same symphony - and I could swear to God my dog looks over at me at times, looks right through me as if to say "I am in on it too". So even if this zone - which at times I believe in experiencing it is my way of re-charging my own energy levels - is something I often experience alone (although it feels far from actually being alone) with only my possibly somewhat irritated neighbors listening to the notes and vocal sounds - it is something I seem to be fortunate enough to experience on a somewhat consistent level - especially when the weather allows me enough warmth and daylight to be outside without freezing off my fingers.

It is hard to diminish an experience that happens on any regular frequency, but I guess I have gotten somewhat used to it. To get "there" is never something entirely within my control. Certain things help - a full night's sleep, the weather conditions - a breeze, a sunset - always nice - when it is too hot out it can be a distraction just as much as it can be if it is too cold - but even when everything seems to be just right there are other things that can get in the way. Having the onset of a cold coming on last night seemed to distract when I gave up in futility, but then again that same cold was here this morning and then there I was - right there - so it just goes to show - you don't ever know - (so to speak and to borrow famous words) how it is going to arrive or when because there is a certain surrender involved that is almost like catching a wave - and the wave has to be there to begin with and the wave is the ocean of creativity, nurturing, love, inspiration, happiness - everything I associate with my conception of the term God. And I shouldn't necessarily see it as a failure if I try and fail to arrive, it's more like - okay - try it again later because there is the faith there that at some point it is bound to hit.

But I guess what stands out about this particular experience is that it happened with one of my best friends. John from UCSD - who I have been in touch with for many years, is one of my readers here - who actually takes the time to convert my shabby 4 track recordings - out of tune notes, hissing, mistakes and all - from cassette to CD which allows me to listen to them when I am driving - this legend of a human being - was present. I have named them before - the folks I have known for 20-25 years - who seem to me more of my family than the family I was born into - because I have had regular contact with them, shared my soul with them, had psychedelic experiences where the bare-ass raw naked revealed essence of my being was exposed to them - and you form a bond that you can't ever have even with your own brothers and sisters, especially considering that my family is very guarded and poised around each other - and they never seem to let it hang out. This clearly is my observation - and the last time I saw them all it seemed to be clearly reinforced. Then again - who knows - maybe every time I turn away they are all very open when I am gone, but somehow I doubt this. So I have named them before - the 5 that come to mind - Joe, John, Youndy, Kirk, and Rich - are the 5 I have this connection with - and I somehow doubt I will ever find anything like this with anyone else - with the obvious exception of my new family - that consisting of my wife and daughter - who have seen me at my best and worst as well and have been my almost constant companions throughout the last 10 plus years of my life.

The background was I had to spend a week working in Salt Lake. The drive out there on Highway 80 is one boring ass drive - featuring such scenic highlights as Battle Mountain, Winnemucca, Elko, Lovelock, and at the border between Nevada and Utah - Wendover (also affectionately referred to as Bendover by some). I'll take it over Highway 50 which features one lane all the way, and no public bathrooms for a 230 mile stretch, but it still gets old. Seeing that my daughter was pretty upset still over the parting with her aunt - who just recently had come to visit - it didn't seem like the best time to go, but hell - my company feeds us, allows us to have a house and live somewhat comfortably. My sister in law lives in a farm area called Watsonville and they are slowly all killing themselves from exhaustion working 16 to 20 hours a day 7 days a week doing impossibly demanding work for next to no money. So relatively speaking, how can I really complain. I did have to leave on a Sunday, and in seeing John - extend my visit one more day - coming back on Friday instead of Saturday (okay - switch that around - Saturday instead of Friday). It might seem like just one more day, but by the time Friday came around I found myself in the morning saying why the hell am I doing this when I could just be heading home today. John was late in arriving - which meant 6:00 PM turned to 7:30 PM for the time I showed up to meet him at his friend's house. And at the beginning of the visit they were whipping out the wine and beer (I was the one non-drinker) and they were giving us the "grand tour" of their nice two level house (the bottom level being a basement) and their spacious yard. Somehow every time I get the grand tour I always feel like I am in the middle of a dick size contest - hey - look how big mine is. So those same thoughts returned to me from the morning - what the hell am I doing here, and why did I extend my visit for this when I could be back home already. It seems to me like the dick size contest is another version of jacking off, and to quote Jerry Garcia along the same lines - he once said something like we came here to fuck.

So - at some point when they were all eating (I passed the time before in between stops already stopping at a steak joint in the Ogden area - pretty cheesy but good enough) when I was full - I decided it was time to "whip it out" so to speak. The dude had 2 Takamine guitars, better in quality than the one I brought along, so I started by grabbing one - asking permission of course first - and noodling away. My noodling is basically finding a comfortable chord with a few accompanying scale notes - and finding what seems to get me ready for that zone appearance. The notes may be simple - I like to think any idiot with half a brain can do what I do musically because I keep it very simple - but the point is not to show off - because getting back to the dick size contest, that is not what music is about to me. My friend Rich can run me around in circles and make me look downright retarded musically, but that does not take away from what I experience when I get into the zone. I just keep it simple - and that is what works for me. So as I was noodling - trying to be somewhat inconspicuous as my friends were eating, I heard John's wife Mary asked me if I had written what I was playing - which I had to think about at first for a second - kind of come back into reality - and I told her something like - oh this? I'm just pulling this out of my ass. Which was another way of saying I was just noodling.

So the guy who lives there and owns the guitars is named Shane and he also knows a lot of Grateful Dead - so it is a pretty good set up - I am basically going to play the songs and he is going to follow with the lead notes. So I start out with Cassidy - as the "fare thee well let your life proceed by it's own design - nothing to tell now, let the words be yours I am done with mine" portion has been something I have used as a healing mantra to think of my departed greater family ever since I saw them last in July - kind of a quiet surrender to realizing they are living their lives, I am living mine and the paths are clearly never going to be crossing again on any type of real level. Even when we are around each other, we aren't really there - our hearts aren't in it - and singing that song is kind of to me the way of just surrendering to the inevitable notion that it's just the way it is - it is nobody's fault really, it's just karma, fate and something bigger than anyone of us. So naturally I think about this as I am singing this song, and I notice the remaining three at the table, Shane's wife, John and his wife Mary appear to be focusing on the energy - especially the two females who haven't heard me sing as far as I know (John has heard me for years so he is somewhat used to me). You never quite know what effect your playing is having on others - if people are just kissing your ass and saying they like it because they feel that is what they are supposed to be doing - but in this particularly setting I feel like I am making a connection with them and that always feels good. At some point the two ladies went back inside, and I dedicated "Wharf Rat" to all the drinking going on. Normally I am pretty low key with my voice when I sing this out in my yard, but hell - it's their neighbors - not mine - so I sang out the " I know that my liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiffe" part with full force - knowing my vocal cords will probably be retaliating the next couple days - and then as the sun slowly started sinking it was quite natural to transition into songs like the Beatles "Tomorrow Never Knows" - Turn off your mind relax and float downstream - which may look like familiar lines (try the top of this blog) as these simple lines written by John Lennon (no disrespect to Paul, but his name on the songwriting credits are nothing but a technicality) - to me are some of the most profound statements ever expressed in a popular song, and the very essence of the "zone" state I describe here so much. So it's getting darker as we have a great view of the mountains that as far as I know are some of the ski range near Park City - although I could be wrong - but Dark Star is a natural fit. The two ladies come back outside and want to hear one of my own compositions, but as we are fortunate enough to get to see an incredible view of the moon bursting over the mountain range - similar to what I get to see at home - with the main difference - these mountains are more vertical, jagged and pointy, whereas ours at home melt into the earth slowly like a voluptuous human female breast - but it is still the same idea - and seeing that glow behind them, followed by that first tip of light - will always be one of the most incredible experiences of nature I will ever know. That was supposed to be a sentence. Oh well - but what I am getting at is I have to play a moon song and one of my favorite Grateful Dead songs is "Mountains of the Moon" and it all seems to fit in with this incredible view of the bright moon bursting out with such a cosmic heavenly light that just seems to pour right into one's consciousness. So I obliged in playing one of my own songs right after this - the one mentioned before "There is Only Love" and maybe because this is "my" song I am a little self-conscious, but in that zone state (I am singing mostly with my eyes closed) several things come to me as I am singing what may be the most profound song I have written. First of all - I know I am being watched. Second - I get the feeling there is a response on the other side - like I am reaching the people watching me. Third - they are listening to me singing and playing my song - but fourth and most importantly - it has nothing to do with me at all. It is kind of like I am the conduit for this burst of incredible energy. It is coming through me, but I am just a vehicle for it - like the antenna of a radio that allows the music to come out that is already there - the radio is not playing it, it is just picking it up. It is almost like being on automatic. These are not my words really - and really they are borrowed from many different sources - books and philosophies I have been exposed to over time - I put them together in a way that made sense to me - but really how can I take credit for such profound wisdom that has been passed on from century to century for who knows how long. The chords are basic - somewhat borrowed - at least in part from the Grateful Dead's Morning Dew cover. So in this state I realize - not only is this not really my song - but as I observe others watching me in this zone state - I detach myself from it - my voice and fingers are on automatic - I am watching it too - and then who is actually doing this? If I am not playing - if I am not writing who is? But to me that is the essence of being in the zone - when it happens it is going through you and it is not about ego - it is about surrender - it is about becoming one with something much greater than myself or anyone - really it is being one with God because this force is coming through me and I am just letting it happen. It is like this ball of fire is being spit out - slowly - through my fingertips and voice and I may be the center of it - as it is coming through me - but that does not mean it is me - because I can't make it happen if it is not meant to happen. So this is a long song - it goes on for about 10 minutes - and then we have completely lost track of time because it is 10:00 PM, the neighbor has dramatically slammed the window as if to say - okay guys - enough is enough. I know Shane also played one of his songs outside before this, and I noodled my way through that. Then we went inside - I did a couple more of my own (Cheese and Today) , Shane did one of his - I stumbled through "Crazy Fingers" and by the time I picked out Bob Dylan's - I Shall Be Released to finish it was already midnight, I was on my second wind but exhausted - said my goodbyes - drove back to the hotel, slept like shit, and then had a horrendous journey back home, covering the near 550 miles through 90 plus degree desert heat pulling over to sleep for 10 minute spurts three different times - and feeling like it was one of the longest drives ever.

But still - worth it - even though it takes me about 2 days to recover from the drive back and staying up late. Just as it is worth it to do the monthly drum circles in town here - because even if I can get there by myself, it is important to try to get there in some kind of community setting as well. These people - who were basically strangers before I showed up - shared something with me and now I already have a bond with them - even though they are friends of friends so to speak - because of what we shared. Music is the most powerful spiritual force I have ever come across - and it is amazing that it can be experienced at its full height just sitting in my lawn chair in my backyard with my faithful dog by my side, or with a group of friends, or in an a stadium full of 50,000 or more people. That is what it amazing about it - it can work on any level. As I told Mary that night, this is my religion. It is not what I picked up in any religious building - such as any church or synagogue I have ever been to. I can respect those places may work for some, but they have never done it for me. My problem with the Judeo-Christian religions is that they are looking back to something that happened thousands of years ago. As far as I am concerned - open up your eyes - and you can see it is happening every day - right now. That's why I keep on getting out there - with my voice, drum, and guitar - that's why I am writing about it now. This experience I described from 9 days ago didn't stop. It lives on for me. It lived on when I drove back. I don't miss any of them now because they are all still with me. A musical experience has no start and no end - it is infinite - it goes on forever. Music and the expression of it - as I said in one of my recent tunes - will always be my path to God.