Nothing was delivered

I have been listening to this Byrds version of the Bob Dylan song while I am out here in Utah:

Nothing was delivered
And I tell this truth to you
Not out of spite or anger
But simply because it's true
Now, I hope you won't object to this
Giving back all what you owe
The fewer words you have to waste on this
The sooner you can go.
Nothing is better, nothing is best
Take heed of this and get plenty of rest.

Nothing was delivered
But I can't say I sympathize
With what your fate is going to be
Yes, for telling all those lies
Now you must provide some answers
For what you sold has not been received
And the sooner you come up with them
The sooner you can leave.
Nothing is better, nothing is best
Take heed of this and get plenty of rest.

Now you know
Nothing was delivered
And it's up to you to say
Just what you had in mind
When you made ev'rybody pay
No, nothing was delivered
Yes, 'n' someone must explain
That as long as it takes to do this
Then that's how long that you'll remain



I have been divided on even wasting one more moment talking about this shit, since on some level it seems so ridiculous that I shouldn't bother, but I once again find myself sucked in to my unfortunate past and the sorry ass people who technically and biologically speaking are my parents, although on a deeper level I will never truly see them as my parents. This song seems to bring me back to the fact that nothing really was delivered from them on a parental level, other than going through the motions, because people who have nothing in their souls, have noghing to give, nothing to offer, and have nothing to deliver and that's why all of us unfortunate offspring are such bloody mental cases. I am less of a mental case the more I am away from them, but even reading one of my Dad's fucking stupid neurotic e-mails about this God forsaken cruise that I have sold my soul to participate in is enough to make me want to take over where I left off over 20 years ago when I was slashing my wrists, and just get it right for once and for all so I don't have to deal with these soul-less shells of misery any more. Don't worry - I am not really suicidal, but the idea of driving my car off the nearest bridge just to thwart this damn gathering does seem quite appealing to me, even if it is just a fantasy. And yes - I am a sick fuck, but considering where I came from, it all makes sense that I am. I heal myself by staying away, and then the more I am exposed to this toxic mind set the more I revert back to a candidate for a mental institution.

On one cheesy delusional level, my Dad really thinks we are a happy family and that we all really wanted to go on this damn journey to honor "Mom's 80th Birthday". On a deeper level, he knows he has to buy us off, lure us in with the reward of a luxury cruise - like that is some fucking reward, to be on a cheesy exhibition of materialistic excess and be exposed to the worst possible aspects of our culture in the process. On a still deeper level I think he did this whole trip to torture himself freaking out about everything that may not go as he planned it. I am grudgingly going on this thing because my wife basically put my testicles ina vice grip, and told me that it was something my daughter needed to experience - I guess because her colonoscopy wasn't enough of an experience in itself. So I grudgingly agreed - I gave my father my word - in writing - as he asked, that I was going to do this back in September.

But see my father, being the shadow of a man that he is, is starting to grip. Those little demons are gnawing away in his head and he is wondering maybe he is going to spend all this money and some of us are going to back out of it. So now the bar has been raised and the note has gone out that if we don't have all our papers ready (I have been putting off ordering the birth certificate because it drives home the idea that I am actually doing this damn trip) by May and give him yet another signed notice of intent that we are going, he is going to cancel the reservation. I get this fucking neurotic e-mail from him on the way out to another of my monster 300 plus miles through the back country out here for work - a trip that culminated in me hiking up a pretty damn steep roof with snow covered on one side and dog shit getting all over my ladder. I let him know in so many words, that I had already given him my word once, and asked how many damn times did I need to do that. And this - in exact quoted words - was his response: "David, my son, I am talking thousands of dolllars. This is a lot of money for me. You're damned right! I want to hear that you have your birth certificate in hand by May 1st,and I will get off your case.I meant every f---g word, not only to you but all the addressees as well. VW"

My response was I am not reading any more of your e-mails - call me if you feel like it. And if he wants to give me an out on this stupid thing, because I am not jumping through more hoops, fine - but he is paying any costs on this if he does, because that was his decision, not mine to start raising the bar after the agreement was done. If he doesn't trust me enough that I meant it the first time, I am not going to make it my problem. What next - signing a letter in blood every day leading up to the day of the cruise, that we really meant it and weren't just joking when we agreed to go. It poses the natural question - if he was that fucking freaked out and worried about us going - then WHY DID HE PLAN THIS STUPID THING TO BEGIN WITH? DID I PUT A GUN TO HIS HEAD AND TELL HIM TO SPEND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS? (Sigh) Like the alternate Bob Dylan line - You have no faith to lose and you know it - he has no faith in anything. He is a shadow of a man, a walking dead soul without a soul, and it is just really sad and pathetic to see that in any conscious mind, let alone someone who is related to me. It just isn't my job to re-assure him. Because really nobody can. Along the Ken Kesey lines of why should I be a part of your bad trip - I am not going to be. I said I was going - once - and once is fucking enough for me. I will finally get around to ordering that God-forsaken birth certificate, and our little happy family gathering will take place. We are a big happy family, just the way Hillary and Obama are, the way George Bush and Bin Laden are a happy family, or China's government and the Dalai Lama. Sure we are. It is so fucking pathetic on every level, and if there is one day to look forward, it is the day the damn cruise is over, the day I walk off the boat like a "seasick sailor going home" in the words of another Bob Dylan song, and get another twisted neurotic chapter of my life over with - that is if I don't give into a suicidal moment and just hurl myself off the edge of the fucking boat to begin with. Really as much as I would like to die just to keep the family gathering from happening, this completely twisted, delusional, pathetic cruise idea just is not worth doing that.

I allow myself to get sucked in - and here I am writing this in the middle of the night - but I am venting because I just can't believe how sorry ass ridiculous the whole situation is. Maybe there is a way out - maybe he will just pull me off the fucking list and save me a lot of misery. Probably not though - really the true reason for this trip - as the king and master of misery - was to impose as much misery on himself, and on all of us as a result. Misery is what keeps them alive - misery for themselves, spreading misery for the others, in laws, family. Misery because that is all you have when you are one of the walking dead - when you have nothing to live for other than running like a dog with your tail between your legs all around the globe and then sending nasty grams to the family filled with threats and demands. What a sad state of existence. If I ever get to that point in life - and I will pray my ass off that I don't - just shove me over a cliff - because that's not living - and death can only be an improvement.