evile: (Nightmare)
This year has just flown by and I don't feel like I have much to show for it. Time passes faster as you get older, I think....

Our weekend has been pretty laid back. Yesterday was Bart's memorial service & reception in San Antonio. Other than the selected speakers at the memorial, nobody really talked about Bart. The reception was more like a reunion, 'what are you doing these days' kind of thing.....it was nice but I really wanted more Bart stories. I kept a journal of all my times back then but I don't actually remember much off the top of my head. I didn't really know what to say to his mom, sister, and brother, so I didn't say anything. I hadn't seen him in years and years, I just didn't feel like I had the right to say anything. So I stood around awkwardly, talked a little to the two people there I knew, but even that felt wierd and wrong, like I was in the way and keeping them from talking to the people they actually wanted to talk to.

When I got to the memorial, I said hi to Ross and met his wife Jeanne. Ross told me I look exactly the same....which was nice of him. I expected to cry more than I actually did. There was a slide show of photos of Bart from all the times of his life, mixed together. I recognized some. A few made me laugh or at least smile.

The reception was at "The Circle School" just off Broadway near the Witte; it looked like a big old bungalow had been turned into a school. The classrooms had names like "the star room" and "the rainbow room"--if my sister lived in San Antonio, I could totally see my niece going to that school. We got there a little early and helped set up tables and stuff.

Anyway....I didn't stay til the end, we left for home around 6:30. You can't go home again.

Christine C. One of the people I went to HS with, who knew Bart also....went kind of bugnuts and unfriended me in Facebook. Apparently she felt she hadn't been told enough about what was going on when, as far as the memorial service, reception, and graveside ceremony. When I had messaged her the official obituary, she told me she wasn't going to anything, because Bart's sister and her sister are best friends, and she isn't on speaking terms with her sister. Also had some drama with Ross, the main organizer of everything and one of Bart's best friends. So the last post from her I saw before she unfriended me was a lot of cuss words and "Why didn't anyone tell me about the memorial service, Bart was my friend too" and "I hate you!!" Oh, yeah, and her husband posted to let all mutual friends of Chris and Bart that we are pieces of shit. I probably should not have responded at all, but I did. I said something like "I messaged you and posted all teh info I had, I don't know what else I could have done,".....but the thing is....she's an adult, and she DID have all the info she needed in order to make whatever decisions about attending or not attending....so her making things other people's fault or responsibility is just her.....not my responsibility or my problem. Of course I feel like a horrible person and a bad friend, because that's my codependent conditioning at work....but really, this is her grief and anger and sadness needing an outlet and a target and me being the best one, as usual, as always, because that's who I am and that's who she is.

Anyway. :/ I can't say it doesn't bother me or hurt me, but I can at least recognize some of the irrational aspects of the situation and why it shouldn't bother me or hurt me the way it is. So, there's that.

Today has just been sleeping in, hanging out in pjs. Thax made coffee and waffles. Now he's working on various little fix-it projects around the house that he'd been meaning to get to for a while. I haven't done a damn thing. We need to get to the grocery store at some point.

My life feels pretty empty and quiet now that I don't plan (and pay for!) grand group adventures anymore. Oh well.

Daily Fix

Feb. 24th, 2012 07:57 pm
evile: (coyote)
from http://www.wheresthemoon.com/

DAILY FIX weekend

Healing a wound? Who isn't? The Sun risesnow above Chiron in Pisces, and that configuration is all about
healing a wound. Usually it's something so deep you don't even want to talk about it,
but the more conscious you are, the less likely you are to act out. There's been a cut,
a break, and pieces have to be put back together again


Very timely. I was just reading my LJ from about this time last year. What a crunchy chocolate-coated mess I was....ffs. Glad I have any friends left after all that. Glad I still have a relationship with Thax. He is a patient man who loves me very much.
evile: (Default)
For some reason, driving by myself sometimes puts me in a really...I guess 'emotionally vulnerable' state is a good way to put it, maybe? I'll think of things, or I'll hear a song on the radio that makes me get weepy, or whatever...stuff I'd never do in front of anyone, or anywhere except in my car, by myself.

So...today I was cruisin' along, headed out to Chez Charles* for Mr. Kai's birthday (*that'd be "Chuck E Cheez" to you, sir.) and I came up with this odd thought. Kind of a 3 part system for thinking in a different way about people I habitually dislike, despise, fear, or otherwise do not dig.

First thought exercise: find something about them to genuinely, really, honestly ADMIRE. Think about it for a bit, and be totally honest with yourself.

Second: think of some possession or skill that they have that you envy. Go ahead and admit it.

Third: think of the thing or things that they have said or done that you find abhorrent, disgusting, and unforgivable.

Try to hold all 3 in your mind. Find the similarities between them. Find the qualities in yourself that you share, in all 3 categories (admire, envy, dislike). Keep doing this, adding as many qualities in each category as you can.

This ended up making me feel sick to my stomach and excited all at the same time. It made me feel like saying something to the person. It feels like an important and good thing. I don't know what, if anything, I'll do about this. I couldn't do it for long, and I could not do it for every person I dislike. But I definitely could do it for one or two.

I think one of my major 'issues' in life is always seeing things in terms of absolutes; black and white, no shades of grey and no colors. This situation is how it is and it can never change. I did or said whatever wrong thing and I can't change it, so there's no way to be sorry or fix it, so fuck it. This person did (or continues to do) this evil thing and I can't forgive them.

So....depth and colors. I may still not like these people, but it's interesting and good to have these three new things to try and think about when I think of them.
evile: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]

yes, of course. Haven't we all?

I don't believe I've ever been offered, or been given, forgiveness. And I don't believe I know how to forgive.

Apologies don't ever seem to fix anything.

So I've learned to live with regrets as best I can.

And time and forgetfulness are the best healing I've been able to find.

FWIW, I don't forgive myself, either. Even if my words are eventually forgotten by those they've hurt, their echoes still lash away at my soul and fill me with shame and regret whenever I think of them. Which is why I try not to think of them.

All I can do is try to be better today, and tomorrow, and the day after that. And my half-forgotten, sometimes-remembered failures weigh and weigh on me, until they'll eventually press me into the ground.

But today is a cold and rainy day, good weather for melancholy. And I'm so, so tired. So take these words with as much salt as needed to make them palatable.
evile: (Default)
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yes and yes.

Hindsight shows that it was not a good thing to do.Read more... )



evile: (Walls)
Do You Love Me? (part 2) - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Onward! And Onward! And Onward I go
Where no man before could be bothered to go
Till the soles of my shoes are shot full of holes
And it's all downhill with a bullet
This ramblin' and rovin' has taken it's course
I'm grazing with the dinosaurs and the dear old horses
And the city streets crack and a great hole forces
Me down with my soapbox, my pulpit
The theatre ceiling is silver star spangled
And the coins in my pocket go jingle-jangle

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?

There's a man in the theatre with girlish eyes
Who's holding my childhood to ransom
On the screen there's a death,
there's a rustle of cloth
And a sickly voice calling me handsome
There's a man in the theatre with sly girlish eyes
On the screen there's an ape, a gorilla
There's a groan, there's a cough, there's a rustle of cloth
And a voice that stinks of death and vanilla
This is a secret, mauled and mangled
And the coins in my pocket go jingle-jangle

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?

The walls in the ceiling are painted in blood
The lights go down, the red curtains come apart
The room is full of smoke and dialogue I know by heart
And the coins in my pocket jingle-jangle
As the great screen crackled and popped
And the clock of my boyhood was wound down and stopped
And my handsome little body oddly propped
And my trousers ride down to my ankles
Yes, onward! And upward!
And I'm off to find love
Do you love me? If you do, I'm thankful

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?

This city is an ogre squatting by the river
It gives life but it takes it away, my youth
There comes a time when you just cannot deliver
This is a fact. This is a stone cold truth.
Do you love me? I love you, handsome.
But do you love me? Yes, I love you, you are handsome
Amongst the cogs and the wires, my youth
Vanilla breath and handsome apes with girlish eyes
Dreams that roam between truth and untruth
Memories that become monstrous lies
So onward! And Onward! And Onward I go!
Onward! And Upward! And I'm off to find love
With blue-black bracelets on my wrists and my ankles
And the coins in my pocket go jingle-jangle

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?


Apr. 25th, 2008 05:17 pm
evile: (Pippi Longstocking)
and here is why I don't write much anymore that isn't narrative 'what I'm doing, where I'm going, what I'm thinking about' type stuff.

Because there is no way I could EVER be that fucking brilliant. His writing made me weep with envy when we were in class together way back wehn...and it still makes me cry.

Small Hands
Stamped: December 2nd, 2001
Tagged: Cathy, poetry

This is the world and I cannot hold it
Like a mother holds a child
Like a lover holds time
I better try grabbing onto the rings of Saturn
Before I try to hold a world
Spinning fast enough to hold us to the ground
Giving our hopes stunted wings
Pulling the sand through the hourglass
With a world spinning so fast you’d think there’d be a roaring wind
And there is, but we’ve got the volume down so low
That mother’s crying cannot be heard over the rustle of father’s newspaper
But I hear the wind
It sounds like I’m jet skiing the slipstream of a 767 en route to the cover of Time Magazine
It sounds like I’m showering in Niagra Falls, but I never get clean.
Like eyes that can’t bear to meet.
Like my small hands trying to catch you before you fall.
It sounds like the breath I take before saying “I think I see God.”
In college, the cafeteria ladies thought I was Jesus
And made sure I got the hot rolls
But they didn’t see me that night when I was so drunk
And the door was locked
And she was just right there
And I made such a mistake
I woke up with the room spinning, the world spinning.
My friends and I swaggered through our college lives
Immortal. We would never say good-bye.
But then a wind started to pick up the leaves, our plans, and our time
Into a swirling dance
Our feet were heavy
And our hands were so small
The world spun faster
Through the endless cornfields of Greencastle, Indiana
Through the deceptive peace of Albany, New York
Broken by a ringing phone.
When I answered
I heard a voice, once so calm,
Breaking like old violin strings
as it told me a horrible lie.
Neal, who was beautiful;
Neal, who had composed music from some dream country I could not even look upon,
Had not made it out of the woods
Somewhere he lay pale and still
Bathed in silent white light.
The secret was out:
One of us was mortal
One of us would only live in photographs and “remember when”
And I realized that none of us were out of the woods yet.
I’m knocking on Heaven’s door
I’m out here with a list of questions that all start with “Why…”
Why doesn’t everyone see You?
Why can’t my hands be bigger?
Why did love and lonliness both have her face?
Why did the phone have to ring that day?
The world spun through Albuquerque, New Mexico
To a house big enough for our silence.
Again, a ringing phone.
I got the call that explained, at the end, my grandmother said she could see Jesus
Or maybe it was her favorite grandchild whose voice she’d never hear again
My wife came home and stood at the opposite end of the room
a thousand miles away
Torn between the bitter chill of our dying marriage
And my warm sobbing for my grandmother who was dead
She compromised with a hand on my shoulder
And the world spun faster
It spins through the girl ahead of me in the checkout line who is the love of my life, but neither of us will ever know it.
It spins through the man who sleeps in the alley so I can waste money on a hamburger I didn’t really want.
It spins through that call I should have made weeks ago to a phone that will never ring again.
It spins through my arrogance and my self-righteousness and my small, small hands.
I’m sorry I could not catch you.
My friends and I used to say “Good-bye”
Now it’s just “Don’t die.”

60 things,

Mar. 20th, 2008 03:43 pm
evile: (Default)
From Stevo in Myspace.

60 Things You Can’t Possibly Know About Me ..Read more... )


evile: (Default)

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