evile: (SBC)
I first met Pam when I was 18 or 19 years old; I had just gotten my first real job (Bookstop!), first apartment, first time living on my own like a real grownup.

Pam was only 10 years older than me but to my naive view, she was impossibly mature and wise; her cynical and witty words on life, relationships, and the world were the words of The Ages.

She had a boyfriend named David who was an on again off again bad dude in her life. An addict, a user, and a liar. He had some story about how he'd stolen some lead from a radiological clinic to sell, melted it down and became sterile but somehow mysteriously got her pregnant after telling that lie. (all of that just to get out of wearing a condom, what a guy.) She didn't keep David's baby. I guess he eventually ended up in jail, prison or dead. I don't remember if she told me what happened to him, or if she knew. She described him as this impossibly beautiful, golden-tongued god of a man...I was disappointed when he came to a party at my apartment behind the bookstore and he was just this stringy hippie. She said he was as smart as she was, but I didn't see it.

The first time I went out to her place (I think she lived out in Lakeway?) I remember she had two cats, a Siamese and an orange tabby. I think the Siamese was named Valentino. Her cats' fur smelled of her perfume. I think I remember him fetching bottle caps. If I don't remember that correctly, then I will just say that I do. Her home was cosy and dark and mysterious, full of her fragrance (YSL Opium) and, it seemed, treasures from many lands and many exotic places lived and loved. Dim lamps draped with silk scarves. I want to remember the quote she gave me about how every woman should have a beaded lamp but I cant, quite.

She drove a Jeep-like car but smaller. Suzuki Samurai? She drove with an open tallboy can of beer in the cup holder and a menthol cigarette between her long delicate fingers, only paying passing attention to silly things like traffic and red lights as the hot Texas wind whipped her long blonde hair around & she shared her wit. She was the most bad-ass woman I'd ever met in my life.

I thought she was the most sophisticated, intelligent, amazing person I'd ever met. I wanted to be Pam when I grew up. Of course, time wore the shine off my infatuation; I quickly learned that Pam had a tendency to pick the worst men, the most self destructive and negative thoughts & behavior...she was a pessimist, a cynic, and yet she always had a perfect literary quote to sum up all the bad times, bad men, and bad choices, and managed to always laugh bitterly at it all.

I remember that laugh, and no one else will ever have it; usually starting with a cough, smoky, snarky, as rich and bitter as the finest cup of coffee.

I remember kissing her at a party; we were drunk as hell.

I remember her imitation of Nancy Spungen from the movie "Sid and Nancy,"--"But Siiiiid, what about the farewell druuuuuuuugs?"

I remember the title of the biography she was always going to write: Why I Hate My Miserable [fucking?] Life By Pamela Miller. It was the refrain for many of her updated tales of male perfidy.

I came back to Austin to visit after I left Bookstop for college in Indiana. I know we hung out a few times. There was always talk of a Bookstop Reunion that never quite happened.

we reconnected some years after my Bookstop Days; I was with the guy who is now my ex and she was with a guy who eventually became her ex, a retired military guy. They lived in a trailer in Dripping springs on some acreage; she ran a little bookstore out of a storage building. Mostly online, I think.

We lost touch again; next time I saw her, she hinted that her retired military ex husband had used her badly, become an addict, and so on and so forth.

She came to my 'throwing out my ex/changing the locks' party. She gave me a CD of music, a playlist for just such an occasion, entitled "Bitch Goddess #1: Music Dealing With Feminine Rage"

Thax and I met her in Austin on Guadalupe one afternoon, "The Drag," where we stood across the street from The Scientology Building in our "Anonymous" masks or bandannas or faces concealed "T-Shirt ninja" style, with silly signs and taunted the khacki & polo-clad Scientology employees as they came and went. Then we got Thai food at Madam Mam's down the street. She paid; she always paid, she was always the one giving, and that was what attracted the users. It was almost as though she felt people wouldn't spend time with her unless she did...I will always feel that money warped her life in some terrible ways.

She had mysterious family out somewhere--wealthy, estranged & dysfunctional, but somehow stil connected; her life seemed to be an attempt to break free of them, but also prove herself to them by making it on her own--waitressing, cashiering, bookstores, banks, whatever--and whenever her life got too upside-down, she could 'always sell some stock' and buy a new car, house, whatever. It was very glamorous but also very sad to me.

I met her brother once or twice; he was quiet and intelligent in that aspie computer guy way. He died of cancer. Her father died of something awful, too, and her mother was last to go. I don't know if she ever felt loved by any of them. She spoke so admiringly of her mother's intelligence, and watching her mom's intellect decline with age really upset and frightened her. She didn't call her mom 'mom'..she called her by her first name.

We reconnected again, via Facebook I guess, and I remember going out to wherever she lived. She had put out a spread of goodies and wine to welcome me; other than the wine none of it was for her--though she loved to cook, she didn't eat much. or sleep much.

I talked her into going on vacation with me and some other folks, a cruise out of Galveston. She brought along a male friend. Another user? At least he was somewhat charming...I had fun, and there are pictures of us dressed up and smiling, but in hindsight I'm not sure how much fun she had. Then...or ever, really.

Friday July 28, she decided to end her stay on planet Earth. On the cruise she'd talked a lot about walking out onto the Glacier so I knew it was on her mind even then. Her dog Nali was the reason she gave to stick around. Nali died a while back. She'd gotten another dog. I guess I hoped that was enough.

I don't know what else to say; I wish I remembered more. She was smart, cynical, beautiful, amazingly funny, miserably sad, and so fucking angry. It was a fire under her skin and in her eyes. I always knew she was going to leave this disappointing world on her terms, it was just a matter of timing. She was Intergalactic Royalty and I hope she's found her throne and the love and light she needed in life and couldn't find or allow herself to have.

I listened to the Bitch Goddess #1 CD today on repeat/shuffle. I heard a song I don't remember ever hearing before. Janis Ian's "From Me to You," and it was the perfect goodbye. Wherever she has gone now, I hope it's not a disappointment.
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)
[Error: unknown template qotd]

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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