Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
In Memory
I got a call.
An old friend of mine ended her life. Her name was Daeman. She left behind her beautiful little blonde 4 year old daughter.
She will be missed; she was loved by many. My love goes out to her.
An old friend of mine ended her life. Her name was Daeman. She left behind her beautiful little blonde 4 year old daughter.
She will be missed; she was loved by many. My love goes out to her.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Deadeye Dick
They don't have a name yet.
But the kid in red playing that white guitar is Kevin Zimmmmer****, The smiling man in shades on the drum set is Dan Zzzzz****. He's drunk ha.
Eric Dah* is on bass. And singing fabulously. The person is the brown sweater playing that sangria colored guitar is Andrew G. He's my significant other : )
**** not real last name
*misspelled
I called the video 'epilogue' only because I just finished reading Vonnegut's Deadeye Dick. At the very end of the novel he talks about how life is a story, but only up until a certain point. After that, its all epilogue. And I quote...
"If a person survives an ordinary span of sixty years or more, there is every chance that his or her life as a shapely story has ended, and that all that remains to be experienced is epilogue. Life is not over, but the story is."
-Vonnegut
It was just on my mind is all. I dont know where the hell that '0001' came from. my computer just added it on automatically.
preface
Facebook overestimates me. It thinks 'I may know the following persons'. I feel the same way about this assumption as I do about words whose definition I should (but do not) know.
nod in agreement.
Christmas was mildly boring this year. The funniest thing that happened was either:
1. Luke used 'Jesus' as the word for the category 'Monster' for 'J' words in Scategories. My mother's catholic family initially acted appalled and disgusted. A friendly debate linking criminal acts to 'monstrosity' followed. If the link could be proven without exception, 'Jesus' could be an exceptable answer. However, the family member from the oldest generation would hear nothing of it. "Hail Christ!" Seniority rules.
I just thought it was hilarious that poor Judas never made an appearance.
2. I forgot a gift for my sweet grandmother. I drew her name, so she would be the only one without a present. I 'borrowed' someone else's present, ripped their name off, and viola! "Merry Christmas Grandma!" I took a photo with her: her smiling with her new clock and my head leaning against hers, my arm around her shoulder. My other hand giving a thumbs up. I paid off the original owner of the gift for her sworn secrecy. And for the price of the clock.
I'm looking forward to new years. And New Year's Day. Every year since september of my senior year in high school has seemed to be better than the year before. So cheers! Drinks around!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
"Joe"
I have been describing some people of my past. This is 'Joe'**.
Joe captured my attention the second he walked through the doors of the hospital. He was not much of a looker but he wasn't disgusting or anything. He seemed a bit dim witted, but he was 18, and I was grateful for the youthful company.
Joe was borderline redneck...and in danger of becoming white trash. he wore dirty loose fitting clothing and the coat he wore on smoke breaks was a big camouflaged hunting coat. He smoked a lot of cigarettes, but I was surprised at how innocent he was the more I got to know him. He smoked grass and drank liquor, but he had no other drug histories. I had expected at least a little blow, but he was clean.
Joe was also a virgin. He had a girlfriend back home, but I guess he was bashful. Joe and I had very little in common except for our age. For some reason, that was all that mattered. I think at that point I realized how animalistic humans are. How the youth are drawn to reproduce despite the circumstances. Sex is survival, although it doesn't feel that way for a conscience animal.
Joe and I spent much of our time together. It was not beneficial to our recovery. Alone I was trying to figure things out, but alongside Joe I was a partner in crime. We talked of living reckless lives, of throwing caution to the wind. We tried to see how far we could push things.
I think the hospital staff noticed our destructive friendship. An orderly seemed to be assigned excusively to us. The only time I ever laid a hand on Joe was when I gave him an innocent shoulder rub. He then returned the favor to me, giving me a thorough back massage. It felt good to feel human contact. I felt like I had not even hugged anyone in months. Of course within 30 seconds our personal orderly noticed and ended the free massage session.
The next day Joe was gone. I asked where he was but the hospital staff only said that he had gone 'to another place'. It sounded like a eulogy to me. Later he called me at the hospital. He said that they had sent him to a half-way house. I heard from him every once in a while for about 6 months. It was almost never good news.
About a month later he called me, saying he had been kicked out of the halfway house. He planned on hitching a ride with a friend to his much-older sister's house. She said that she would allow him to stay with her and he wanted me to come with him (I politely declined). When I found out that his sister was a drug addict, I knew Joe would never get out. He was too vulnerable. This would be the death of him, figuratively or literally.
Joe was drinking all the time now; his sister provided him with alcohol. He somehow recieved a large sum of money that he used to buy lots of 'eight balls'. He planned to sell them to make more money so he could get a place of his own. I suspected that he probably did them all himself.
Eventually Joe was incarcerated for check fraud.
I never heard from him again.
**name changed
Joe captured my attention the second he walked through the doors of the hospital. He was not much of a looker but he wasn't disgusting or anything. He seemed a bit dim witted, but he was 18, and I was grateful for the youthful company.
Joe was borderline redneck...and in danger of becoming white trash. he wore dirty loose fitting clothing and the coat he wore on smoke breaks was a big camouflaged hunting coat. He smoked a lot of cigarettes, but I was surprised at how innocent he was the more I got to know him. He smoked grass and drank liquor, but he had no other drug histories. I had expected at least a little blow, but he was clean.
Joe was also a virgin. He had a girlfriend back home, but I guess he was bashful. Joe and I had very little in common except for our age. For some reason, that was all that mattered. I think at that point I realized how animalistic humans are. How the youth are drawn to reproduce despite the circumstances. Sex is survival, although it doesn't feel that way for a conscience animal.
Joe and I spent much of our time together. It was not beneficial to our recovery. Alone I was trying to figure things out, but alongside Joe I was a partner in crime. We talked of living reckless lives, of throwing caution to the wind. We tried to see how far we could push things.
I think the hospital staff noticed our destructive friendship. An orderly seemed to be assigned excusively to us. The only time I ever laid a hand on Joe was when I gave him an innocent shoulder rub. He then returned the favor to me, giving me a thorough back massage. It felt good to feel human contact. I felt like I had not even hugged anyone in months. Of course within 30 seconds our personal orderly noticed and ended the free massage session.
The next day Joe was gone. I asked where he was but the hospital staff only said that he had gone 'to another place'. It sounded like a eulogy to me. Later he called me at the hospital. He said that they had sent him to a half-way house. I heard from him every once in a while for about 6 months. It was almost never good news.
About a month later he called me, saying he had been kicked out of the halfway house. He planned on hitching a ride with a friend to his much-older sister's house. She said that she would allow him to stay with her and he wanted me to come with him (I politely declined). When I found out that his sister was a drug addict, I knew Joe would never get out. He was too vulnerable. This would be the death of him, figuratively or literally.
Joe was drinking all the time now; his sister provided him with alcohol. He somehow recieved a large sum of money that he used to buy lots of 'eight balls'. He planned to sell them to make more money so he could get a place of his own. I suspected that he probably did them all himself.
Eventually Joe was incarcerated for check fraud.
I never heard from him again.
**name changed
Brian
I am continuing my list and description of people in my life. This next person's name is Brian.
I met Brian at the hospital as well. He was an intimidating man. He was tall and muscular and often wore a snug black T-shirt to match his short black hair. He had a strong jaw and a crease across his forehead. He was about 38 years old.
Brian had it all at one point in his life. He had married a stunningly beautiful woman; he had worked his way up to the top to become a wealthy real-estate agent. Brian was surrounded by stability and love.
But Brian was not happy.
He struggled to appear satisfied and thankful for his picture perfect life, but inside he was rotting away and slowly he began to lose everything. His marriage ended in divorce. He lost his job and his business while he spiraled into an ever deepening depression. His best friend caught him buying a .38. That is what landed him in the hospital.
Most everyone was scared of Brian because of his appearance. He once walked into a room to catch a young woman named Tina calling him a 'homicidal rapist'. He had not really said a word the entire duration of his stay, so everyone was silenced with fear and excitment to see what he would do next.
"I'm not a homicidal rapist.", he said softly.
He walked out of the room.
His voice intrigued me. It was higher pitched than I imagined; there was so much vulnerability in it. He was like a polar bear licking his wounds after a losing fight with a walrus. He seemed broken, wounded. Brian was harmless.
One afternoon I skipped a session and snuck off into to the living room to read magazines. I saw Brian in there standing by the counter where lunch was usually served. My curiousity for this vulnerable man got the best of me and I walked over to learn more.
We talked for about forty five minutes. This is when I learned of his job, his house, his family and friends, and his wife. His ex-wife still visited him every day during visiting hours (That's how I knew she was so gorgeous). She never fell out of love with him, that was not what lead to the divorce.
It was difficult to distinguish a real root to Brian's issues. He never had any trouble with drugs, abuse, or any sort of scarring experiences. He just, could not function. There was something in his brain that was just not there. You could tell just by talking to him that this man tried to be happy. He truly loved the things he had worked so hard to obtain. He wanted to be positive, but in his eyes there was a haunting sadness and hopelessness that no words or even actions could conceal. Brian had tried to single handedly to overcome his illness on his own. He failed.
However within a week, Brian was declared stable and his bags were soon packed. I knew he was not ready to go home. I could tell he was bullshitting during group sessions. He was good at lying if you had never heard him tell the truth. One day he was gone. Released, cured!
One week later Brian returned with a bandage around his neck. A few days later the bandage was removed to reveal a long red line that ran across his neck. He told me in private that when he tried to slit his throat he did not use a sharp enough knife. That he would have had to saw at his neck and that he could not bring himself to do it. A couple weeks later I left the hospital. I gave him a hug and he smiled but the look in his eyes had not changed.
I never saw or heard of him again.
I met Brian at the hospital as well. He was an intimidating man. He was tall and muscular and often wore a snug black T-shirt to match his short black hair. He had a strong jaw and a crease across his forehead. He was about 38 years old.
Brian had it all at one point in his life. He had married a stunningly beautiful woman; he had worked his way up to the top to become a wealthy real-estate agent. Brian was surrounded by stability and love.
But Brian was not happy.
He struggled to appear satisfied and thankful for his picture perfect life, but inside he was rotting away and slowly he began to lose everything. His marriage ended in divorce. He lost his job and his business while he spiraled into an ever deepening depression. His best friend caught him buying a .38. That is what landed him in the hospital.
Most everyone was scared of Brian because of his appearance. He once walked into a room to catch a young woman named Tina calling him a 'homicidal rapist'. He had not really said a word the entire duration of his stay, so everyone was silenced with fear and excitment to see what he would do next.
"I'm not a homicidal rapist.", he said softly.
He walked out of the room.
His voice intrigued me. It was higher pitched than I imagined; there was so much vulnerability in it. He was like a polar bear licking his wounds after a losing fight with a walrus. He seemed broken, wounded. Brian was harmless.
One afternoon I skipped a session and snuck off into to the living room to read magazines. I saw Brian in there standing by the counter where lunch was usually served. My curiousity for this vulnerable man got the best of me and I walked over to learn more.
We talked for about forty five minutes. This is when I learned of his job, his house, his family and friends, and his wife. His ex-wife still visited him every day during visiting hours (That's how I knew she was so gorgeous). She never fell out of love with him, that was not what lead to the divorce.
It was difficult to distinguish a real root to Brian's issues. He never had any trouble with drugs, abuse, or any sort of scarring experiences. He just, could not function. There was something in his brain that was just not there. You could tell just by talking to him that this man tried to be happy. He truly loved the things he had worked so hard to obtain. He wanted to be positive, but in his eyes there was a haunting sadness and hopelessness that no words or even actions could conceal. Brian had tried to single handedly to overcome his illness on his own. He failed.
However within a week, Brian was declared stable and his bags were soon packed. I knew he was not ready to go home. I could tell he was bullshitting during group sessions. He was good at lying if you had never heard him tell the truth. One day he was gone. Released, cured!
One week later Brian returned with a bandage around his neck. A few days later the bandage was removed to reveal a long red line that ran across his neck. He told me in private that when he tried to slit his throat he did not use a sharp enough knife. That he would have had to saw at his neck and that he could not bring himself to do it. A couple weeks later I left the hospital. I gave him a hug and he smiled but the look in his eyes had not changed.
I never saw or heard of him again.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Brenda
I want to write about the many different people in my life. Here's the first one.
I met Brenda in the hospital about two days after the old maid, my former roomate, had left. She came in all doped put, wearing a white and blue hospital gown. I was glad to have a junkie roomate instead of a depressed one. The junkies are more interesting.
Brenda had bleached blonde hair with long bangs that hung over her eyebrows, and she appeared to be in her mid-to-late thirties. Despite the downers they fed her three to four times a day, Brenda still had a mischievious quality about her. Even though she was bit thick headed, Brenda was amusing. She spoke with a soft sing-songy voice occasionally accompanied by a merriful giggle, and she used it to try and seduce the men. Because any sort of touching or stroking was strictly prohibited, her efforts were in vain. She ultimately caused herself unnesessary misery and embarrassment.
Smoke breaks were of course the highlight of every day. There were 4 through out the day, one after each of the three meals and one before bed. I have never seen anyone try to smoke so many cigarettes at once in a 15 minute period. These people are hardcore smokers used to smoking nonstop throughout the day, and 4 breaks is just not enough.
Anyway Brenda decided that she would change this rule and stole the lighter from the nurse station. It was a real serious offense, the culprit was hunted down as if a murderer was on the loose. All privledges were taken away until the lighter turned up. Privledges included smoke breaks.
In our room that night I noticed the scent of cigarrette smoke lingering in the air. I shut the door quickly, even though that was also against the rules. I saw a blonde head slowly peak out from the shower door. Brenda whispered loudly, "Hey! You can't smell it out there can you?" I walked into the shower room and saw Brenda standing on our desk chair blowing the cigarette smoke into the vent about the shower. She then grabbed two towels and gave one to me.
"Help me out!" She was still whispering, even though the volume was probably louder than her speaking voice.
She waved the towels about, trying to fan out the smoke. I have to admit it was hilarious, mostly because of the seriousness in her voice. Her seriousness was understandable; if she was caught she would lose her smoking privledges.
Miraculously she did not get caught. The smoking breaks were eventually returned. No one could stand a hospitable full of people without their cigarettes.
That was Brenda.
I met Brenda in the hospital about two days after the old maid, my former roomate, had left. She came in all doped put, wearing a white and blue hospital gown. I was glad to have a junkie roomate instead of a depressed one. The junkies are more interesting.
Brenda had bleached blonde hair with long bangs that hung over her eyebrows, and she appeared to be in her mid-to-late thirties. Despite the downers they fed her three to four times a day, Brenda still had a mischievious quality about her. Even though she was bit thick headed, Brenda was amusing. She spoke with a soft sing-songy voice occasionally accompanied by a merriful giggle, and she used it to try and seduce the men. Because any sort of touching or stroking was strictly prohibited, her efforts were in vain. She ultimately caused herself unnesessary misery and embarrassment.
Smoke breaks were of course the highlight of every day. There were 4 through out the day, one after each of the three meals and one before bed. I have never seen anyone try to smoke so many cigarettes at once in a 15 minute period. These people are hardcore smokers used to smoking nonstop throughout the day, and 4 breaks is just not enough.
Anyway Brenda decided that she would change this rule and stole the lighter from the nurse station. It was a real serious offense, the culprit was hunted down as if a murderer was on the loose. All privledges were taken away until the lighter turned up. Privledges included smoke breaks.
In our room that night I noticed the scent of cigarrette smoke lingering in the air. I shut the door quickly, even though that was also against the rules. I saw a blonde head slowly peak out from the shower door. Brenda whispered loudly, "Hey! You can't smell it out there can you?" I walked into the shower room and saw Brenda standing on our desk chair blowing the cigarette smoke into the vent about the shower. She then grabbed two towels and gave one to me.
"Help me out!" She was still whispering, even though the volume was probably louder than her speaking voice.
She waved the towels about, trying to fan out the smoke. I have to admit it was hilarious, mostly because of the seriousness in her voice. Her seriousness was understandable; if she was caught she would lose her smoking privledges.
Miraculously she did not get caught. The smoking breaks were eventually returned. No one could stand a hospitable full of people without their cigarettes.
That was Brenda.
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