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.