A Grand Flushing...

It has been quite a year....On December 3 2010, I made a decision that has changed my days. It has changed me.   It has changed others that I toouch, and those who touch me.  In affect it has changed the world.

   Its funny to me how we sometimes imagine such things, like, what if Abraham Lincoln hadnt been shot?  Or what if Tesla hadnt figured out how to finish that last critical piece of mechanical wisdom we all now take for granted, and know as Electricity?   Now obviously these examples are far more significant than my putting the bottle away......But is it really any different?

   I like to think, these days, that each step everyone of us makes, good or bad, glad or sad, for more or for less, connects us to the divine.  In a tiny way I am part of all the reality all around.

   In all honesty, there are days when I think, I am the pinnacle of such things....HAHAHAHAHA, such delusion.  Indeed, it is fun to fantasize.

   I have come to understand in a very profound way that each move I make today, this moment, even witing this, will affect change in some way or another, beginning, with these thoughts, pushed out, effortlessly,over a small wire, into the air, then into Your Eyes.....from there, I couldnt possibly predict what happens in between those eyes.....that will all be revealed one day...... The point being, is CONNECTION to the world, instead of my certain sickly way of thinking, that was created and nurtured by my dear friend Alcohol.

   I am PART of everything, rather than a singledout, silent observer of great things, bad things, happening to others.

   I have in this past year created a vastly common, normal living. I work, I pay for things, I try new stuff, I cringe at the thought of finishing certain things, I crave,desire, cry, eat, watch, standby,listen, and pray.   I act out.  I want nothing more than to go backwards....to shrink.   This is normal, as far as I am concerened.   What is the purpose, the message I am to carry forward, that I have not come to fully understand?   I feel an urgency in my heart....Sure I can let my heart out.....But let something into it?  Instant fear takes hold.   If Abraham Lincoln was afraid, couldnt express his love for Country, what might have been?     What if he was afraid to absorb the sights, the people, the Love that fueled his desire to lead.....Then what would be today?  

   There is a calling I have, but I cannot fully comprehend its message. For the most part I am to share my story.....Thats fine, I think I am fairly talented with words to do so.  I am such an action oriented person, and I see lots of ways people help others, and I have this paining annoyance that whatever I do, has to be so unique, so huge, so unbeleivably powerful, the world will stop and be in utter awe.

   This is clearly my blockage.  The lack of true humbleness still allows for a disease called EGO that blocks any if not all from entering my heart....

   My mind is plenty open, and mostly filled with soldiers of Judgement, a thought comes in, the Soldiers beat it to a pulp, and is cast aside. Analyzing, relating events to adversely allow for negative flow, much like a conducter of pre mentioned electricity.   How does one go from Direct Current to Alternate Current in such a short time?    Negativity for myself, is simply a safe "known" place. It a way of defending myself, so that I do not have to make choices, God Forbid, I make a mistake.....Its me closing door after door after door.    It is selfish.

   Back to my heart....It is a fortress protected by filth, shame, guilt, sense of fear, and a feeling of undeserved attention.   That from which I can effortlessly write, out is easy.  A coating so thick, so hardened by years of hearing the same old story....and soaking myself in these old ideas, because, its what I know.  

   This blog is an outward way of telling a New Story.   It may touch you in the heart, It comes from mine.     One example I can list that DOES touch me are as follows,   Nature,  for I love the outdoors, but I can shelter myself from it, at least for a while.....even though outside the Bee will continue to pollinate and make love to Flowers ever replenishing this planet....It makes me bawl.....Its a sight so breath taking, and HUGE.  A tiny BEE.  Meanwhile, I will sit.

    I am changing....I am becoming,more and more, everyday PART OF.

    Abraham Lincoln and BEES? WHAAAAAAAT?

Gay...Really?

   This will likely be the most unusual blog entry to date.


    I dont even know how to begin.

 There have been no other moments in my life so significant than the realization that I was queer.

    I had already by time I reached High School, been a womanizer. I had loved in a particularly immature way, several women.  However,  I was so infatuated with one because of her electric eyes and smile. I dont remember exactly how I met her, but the day I did, my heart beat so fast it practically burst with joy.  Im not at will to mention her name, for her privacy is not for me to give away.

    I tortured her with what I thought was Loving notes, condoms and small gifts, as often as I could.

Being 15? I was still prepubescent and scrawny, but my heart knew....Shed laugh alot at my efforts, my silly little acts of affection...  Her beautiful super thick golden hair was absolutely astonishing as much it still is today....Sometimes I offended her, for I didnt know her very well.

  She hung out with older,cooler and certainly more mature men, and they had a much more stunning chance to spend time with her than myself.They had cars,jobs,music,beer... My jealousy was through the roof, I pressed on, cooing, and begging, and pleading to be with me.

    It was to no avail.   But the best part of the day was to see her in school.   I accepted it eventually. Heartbroken and saddened.  It was for the best.  I believe it to this day.

   I write with tears, because, I regret at times my actions, my loose desires and selfishness about who I am now. If she had fallen in love with me, might I had ruined her life, our lives with my abuse of alcohol? Had we had any children, would they too be a disaster? Would I have left her for selfish and thoughtless behaviors which have so wreaked havoc in my own life?  Would I have discovered I was queer during our life together to be only half the man she knew?  Hiding and pretending?

   I was convinced I could love her to the fullest...And I was ready....Then Queer came along.

    By the time a year ,maybe a little more had passed my life had changed so vastly, and I was now living in a Boys home in Westport for young men from broken homes and the like. I was a ward of the state, but thats a whole nother entry which I will get to....

    I figured out that I was beginning to appreciate mens anatomy visually far more than womens, and it hadnt dawned on me for the longest time.....Until it did. It shattered everything I knew in my mind, body and spirit. It was very gradual.   How can my heart beat for one sex and feel so physical for the other?   I just couldnt connect it.

    I had a secret so big, I had to get it out.....who could I tell in confidence?   It was life changing and I shared this painful understanding with a woman, named Claire Monks, whom was a live in house support, in the boys home. For more than an hour I was in her room crying so much, but I couldnt let it out......Eventually I did......And I never saw her again....A few days after this conversation, she was packed up and gone, I never knew why.....Im sure it wasnt because of my revelation or anything, but she was the very first person to know......

    David Singer, House owner and program guy, had found out what I shared and sent me on a train to NYC to meet some older gay guy, to discuss what He thought was a dilemma, maybe confusion. I dont remember the visit, nor do I care to muse why anyone would think there was any confusion....


  At this time and space I was dating a gorgeous young Asian lady named Tammy. We were the same age and were in love for 8 months.  She had long straight black hair down to her waist, I used to love running my fingers through it, it always fell perfectly back into line. Much like a shampoo commercial.     I had met her parents, snuck cigarettes in her yard....8 months was a lifetime back then.  I had my first gay sex in Westport in the woods with a man 10 years my senior....It was perfect.


   It was my first infidelity, and certainly not my last. I had to tell the truth, and she cried, I cried, I had ruined a perfectly beautiful heart.   I was never again to date a woman.    I was so crazy about this man who had under winged me as a sex partner, I thought for sure he was in love with me as I was with him, for it had felt more complete than any other I had known before.  Two weeks later he was finished with me. I was so naive.   He was married. I left notes in his mailbox....I didnt know.  I never saw him again.

    As I spent most of the Summer fooling around, honing my cruising skills, I discovered I could easily get attention...Being youthful, thin, endowed, and practically untouched, virginal.  I in time, made my way to the old gay bar in Westport called the Brook Cafe. Oh they let me right in, underage and all.   Much to my naivete.   The owners at the time were drug heads, cocaine and the like, and they were so happy to have a young man there that could keep older men at the bar drinking...They introduced me to porn video makers and other so called talented gay types.   I was going to be a star! Drag queens and porn and coke, real cool.

    I was introduced to one producer for the Latino Video Fan Club in NY, which Im sure if I had actually followed through would have left me with an anus as big as the subway tunnel....OH GOD. I had seriously thought the process through, for at that time, I was a dishwasher and had the idea that if I had actually become a man of a powerful position ie(Political, haha) that would shred any dignity and hope thereof.

    So in light of the fact that I was of demand, I decided in a few months afterwards, I would leave the Boys home and set out on my own.   By time I was 17 I had my own 2 room apartment in Milford, on the beach.....   I was so cool, I bought pot by the ounces and my neighbor was a woman named Sherry who, was a stripper in Bridgeport. She had the largest set of boobs I had ever seen and wasn't afraid of sharing them with me. She introduced herself with a bottle of Brandy and boobs, it was a friendship developed.   From that friendship, I could relate to her sexually, She was outgoing about it, and so was I....We had 3 sums with her and her boyfriend all crazy on tabs of acid. 

  That was when with her "professional" advice and encouragement, I became a male escort.   I worked for a white Irish, pimp....And for the next 2 years until I was 19, I had sold my soul, my body, to men that didnt think much of themselves. I met some very powerful men, some suicidal men, some sick individuals, whom I wonder about to this day.  My friendship with Sherry had taken off, she introduced me to crack cocaine, and I was off to the races.  The first rock didnt do anything.  The second however blasted me so far into outer space I thought Id never return.  I smoked diligantly for the 2 years I escorted.  I could bounce back easily, being young and relatively untarnished from a 24 hour stint, of which there were many.  I made alot of money.  I smoked and drank all of it.

   As the Summer dwindled, business didnt, but I hadnt paid my rent.   I hired a sick crackhead driver to get me to appointments, and in trade I gave him rocks....

    I left my first apartment, painted neon green, and with a blue commercial carpet I had installed, the landlord was furious and my neighbors all around had figured out I was queer and made it clear they didnt approve.  It was first of many running away from my problems, I would continue for years to come.
    I moved in with my pimp.  I thought how nice of him to care for me.   Keeping the Golden Egg close by was his real motive.   Subjected to paying rent and sexual favors..I lived there for a short time, copping for crack in what was then known as the Evergreens in Bridgeport. I experienced some frightening and life threatening situations, that at that time, I didnt much take to heart, for I wanted to get high.....

    So in a few very short years I had discovered that being Queer, was door opening experience. A sick door.    A knob easily turned, one hard to get back out of once across the threshold.


  I mistook Love, and Loving as a tangible thing.  An object, of being objectified.

    The future would lead differently, thankfully....    I will continue this at another time. Alot has been revealed.

Ritalin Boy.......

                                                                 

  
   As far back as I can remember, I was told there was alot wrong with me.   I was naturally a hyper active boy, and by time I reached the age of 6 my parents had apparently had enough. 

    My pediatric Doctor named Sedat Shaban, was the first to summons the wrong chart and began furiously writing about how thin I was, how wild I was and how I wasnt growing fast enough. I couldnt sit still.   At once without any hesitation or question from Mom & Dad, Psychological testing was in order.   In the early 80's this was a hit...

     I struggled with school right from the get go. First in Kindergarten for a short few months, then to Pre School, then to Kindergarten again, my pattern was set. One step forward, two steps back, life for me was in motion, which way however, was really never known........

     I spent the better part of my childhood in various Psychologists offices in and around Waterbury, some of these people who claimed to be professionals were more likely nothing more than pill pushing Robots.   I can remember fondly the Rorschach tests, ink blots for those who are not familiar....I was always convinced they were broken pens leaking, but that wasnt the answer the Docs wanted to hear.

   I was imaginative as a youngin, fantasizing constantly, and creating mayhem at school, and coming home to regular mayhem there. My parents, both drunks, were both very hard workers, My father being a machinist at Century Brass, and my Mother being a retail sales lady at Reeds department store....After work, My mother would come home and cook, and do errands....My Father on the other hand was usually belly up at Kellys Oak Tree Inn, and/or at some strange fat womans house bangin her. After a long days work, what good was a wife anyway?  

     I spent a fair amount of time outside...exploring, digging holes and making a mess of the yard, it was already littered with trailer trash anyway.  A childs dreamland if you ask me....  

    There was regular and persistent chaos in my home, a decrepit house to begin with, a mortgage usually underpaid, and alcohol, blood, violence, state Police, beatings, arrests, and the like.   Intermingled in all of this, my Father every once in a while took me fishing, and Ice Fishing,rock hunting, deer hunting.  I hated the thunder come traveling along the ice with a huge crack!    My Father loved me, I could tell.I was his boy, for I had 3 sisters by then. It didnt last very long as his own life problems and alcoholism developed in him as strong as bull. We dint go do much together after I was 10 or so... 

    As both my Parents began living a more drunkard lifestyle, my behavior in the household was getting worse and worse, so distracted......My Mother really began to resent the fact I was born.  And soon, after some of the testing I mentioned was complete, Ritalin was prescribed along with severe counseling and testing, constant blood draws, questions by the hundreds, pictures drawn and interpreted,  filed and it was fact...There was something wrong with me. 

    So for the next 9 years it was business as usual, regular emergency room visits because I had a severe bleeding problem as a child, and some beatings from my Mother that were always glossed over as me being clumsy.....I'll never forget the time she beat my skull so deeply with a shoe, I had to get stitches, but of course really what happened was I fell down the stairs....rriiiiggghhhttt......Having to report to the nurses office at school for my lunchtime dose....It was their one day a nurse had asked me about a bruise....And I told her the truth, begging for her not to tell anyone.....She did, she called the cops.   Not a good idea.   I went home and believe me, I never told again.

    I will never know if Ritalin had done any good, I failed miserably in all my schooling for years to come.   I stayed back in 10th grade, never took SATs and managed to get through High School.  I began as a teenager to have regular visits and stays at institutions like Waterbury Hospital, where my Mother had taken me after I had run away from her......She had said it a million times before" Im gonna kill you when I get home from work" And this time I believed it, and instinct kicked in....to get the hell out.   I was 15 by then. Still on Ritalin.      9 years had passed since I ate that first tablet.   After I had escaped my Mother I never ate one again, and I, over time began to find my way....

    Its hard for me to describe what Ritalins effect was, I was so young when I started it, we had already tried a sugar free diet, controlled behavior modification. Why no one ever saw the obvious is beyond me...But then again it was the 80's when child abuse was still taboo, too touchy a subject to speak about. Confronting a parent back then was like blackballing yourself.

    Alcohol has caused such damage in my story, right from the get go....It causes false realities, and it clings....   Soon others believe in an Alcoholics delusion, that their son was a terror......Doctors and other so called professionals weren't too keen on seeing past a story an Alcoholic could tell....

    To this day, I do not trust Doctors. I have a Doctor.   He is good to me, however when I visit him, I mostly control everything, and that can be harmful......I am always sure Im dying....Hes not. 

    I am so glad I live in a world, a time of better understanding, and reality.   I do not have children, Im not likely to. But my hunch is that if I did, Id be a pretty good Father.   

   



  

   

Haircut.......Just for ME.........

    I have been walking around with a hideous hair pile on my skull, PLUS Giant Eyebrows!  When was anyone gonna tell me......?    Well, I looked in the mirror this morning and I was just DISGUSTED.

    Huge Nose hairs ABOUND! Eyebrows I could barely see through, and eecckkkkk, that hair! Unshapely, oldish, flat, dull, dry looking, as if hay.     I can likely take my Nose Hairs and make one of those rats nests called dreads?   They call it DREADS cuz its DREADFUL looking!   ANYWAY........Here LOOK!....

   God! WHY?!   Thats NAAASTY.........Filthy air hole......GAY_ROSS!


     Naturally I was very concerned...... SO I searched and searched for a Barber, Not a Stylist, but a Barber.   Just cut my hairs, dont make me look all pretty and shit.  I dont want a "Style" cuz I have no one to impress......Its Hair for Christs sake!

     The Barber I found came as a suggestion... and I went!    He was old fashioned Italian, with magical haircutting fingers attached to his hand. SNIPPA! SNIPPA!     He kept the chair turned away from the mirror as he clipped cut, and shaved, and eventually twirling the chair in a hurry, I was eager to see.........The Haircut....Just For ME.......But he said" We're not done yet!"   I said, "God! Sorry!"    I sat back and relaxed and thats when he pulled a straight RAZOR!   My Favorite device of the hair cutters toolbox.........Its all in the risk, would I jump scarily resulting in a lash across the cheek? Maybe lose an ear?    NAHHHHH...Nothing like that happened not even one teeny drop of BLOOD......BORING!

   Thats what Im talkin about!   

   I like my new haircut.......Just look how goofy its made ME!  YAY!  

MONEY

Dear Money$$$$,
Why do you hide from me? Where are you? Why must I trick you into my pocket? And WHY, WHY do you always go away as soon as you & I meet?
Why must I devise new and long dragged out plans to capture you if only for a moment? Dont you like me? Aren't I handsome enough?
When you are in my hand, do I crush you too hard, Does it hurt? IM SORRY......
Now granted we have had kind of a sorrid relationship in the past, but cant we try to be friends, maybe you and I get our own place and chill for a while? You can sleep with me if you want....Just sayin.....
Thinking of you.....$$$$$$$

Karl

Walking.....

So, I was eating a peach, and was thinking about today.....Alot goes on in one single day, that I used to once take so for granted.
I witnessed so many events worth mentioning. Its true...10 miles is so much longer by foot than by car..........Just saying, in case anyone tries it...
Dead Squirrels,(New winter apparel in my mind) cant hurt anyone. I saw fear in the eyes of a man today from his seeing a cadaver, and a goose flock...SERIALLY! He hid behind me like I can protect him. (Its ok,you can come out now, its gone...) Hint:If a goose comes near you and snarls, grab his beak and turn and twist, believe me, He'll be sorry!
Big change was a topic of discussion as we walked, and walked, and walked.....I thought I saw a snake, but it wasnt, I jumped anyway.
A cook needs a kitchen, and a driver needs a truck, thats just the way you know....In any case choices which are of free will, instead of fear are always anticipated with decent reluctance. Its cool to see growth.
A man was fishing by the Lake, I can only imagine what he was thinking to himself having had the presence of such intriguing men....I was thinking, why use a pole to fish when you can just go in the water and grab a fish and twist its head off, and TA DA! LUNCH!
It was a lovely walk, so many twigs, so many dogs without leashes......It ended for me at another friends house at which there was a great fire and then Lunch and serenity.

Walking, talking, sharing always towards the greater.......Thanks ALOT GOD!

Personals Ad...2011

Old single white male, Skeletor body, bony smile, hates snowmen and Spiders, DEFINITELY. LOVES BEES, and GOLD! Super smoky appearance and behavior coupled with a laughing box that never stops, I can be alot of fun at parties, and funerals.

Enjoys working, smoking, and cake. Being only 8% gay means alot more man than you bargained for. Fashion, still NEEDS improvement. If you feel annoyed when a bum asks for a quarter, we are DEFINITELY not a match.

Comes with a First Lady....And a White House.

An avid pretender I am outgoing, faking it till I make it, but in all seriousness, I am a decent domestic person with laundry folding skills, and also can bake a cake as fast as I can.

I dont have a home I call my own, but yours will do just fine.....I often need some money, but again, yours will do just fine...A relationship is about sharing RIIIIGGGHHHTTTT?

Smug at times I will expect you listen to me at all times, even when sleeping...

I can somewhat drive a big rig, but mostly I like spending time on those that laugh at my maneuvers and the like....."Someday Delivery Service, by Karl" a new business venture I will start , you know, Someday.

I make alot of promises and fall short, but Love will bind it all together in a haze....

If you are interested in meeting me, I Definitely will probably delay it, put it off for a while, worry then get back with an excuse......

Mostly ashamed of myself, You will Definitely make me feel better about myself, thats your part....DUH.

Heres what Im looking for in a Man--

Must be masculine, must be everything I am not to be sure I know my place-Nowhere, at least in MY minds comparison. Must be strong, for I whine ALOT.

Um, must be able to morph like Gumbi to see that my mood shifts are met with the personality of the day, I wish to be around.....

If you like this ad, please respond....Im waiting! Cant wait!

LOOOVE SMOKING!

   For those who know me, I love Smoking, I smoke all the time, round the clock. Sometimes I smoke when youre not even looking!

    My love affair with inhaling the delicious trick, is a double edge sword.  How did I come to love Smoking as much as I do? Sit down.   Im going to tell you.

    I started Smoking in 1989.   It was a Cigarette nub I stole out of the woodstove.  Thats where my parents dumped their ashtrays, for they too were devotees of the nicotine.

  I grew up with Smoking all around me, my parents, my grandparents, everyone smoked!

  But anyway I took the nub, went to the bamboo patch in the backyard and lit that baby up with the single match I had found while walking down the main st one day.  I sparked it, the flame rose quickly then took to just heat to sear the small particles so delicately wrapped in fancy paper. It was a Bel-Air.

    The filter immediately got real hot, and the Smoke entered my Lungs, OW!   That Fuckin Hurts!   Then ahhh, I was instantly dizzy, I was scared, I had to sit down. I wasnt expecting that, another puff, then worry.....Then the dizziness stopped and that was that.

  The pain of the draw was quickly replaced by a high I couldnt imagine, my first experience of self dosed alteration.  I was pretty cool, I assumed.

    From that one Butt, I was hooked, I began looking for cigarette butts along the streets and hid them in the bushes in a box, for later, for later.

  I saw my Sister get caught Smoking by my parents.   Her hiding didnt pay off, for they so severely beat her, she ran away, never to return.

    I thought I was a pretty good sneaker, I had already learned to hide, keep secrets and all in one Smoke!

       In 1989 anyone could buy cigarettes. Underage, overage, anyone, there were cigarette machines all over the place, and Smoking was only beginning  to be segregated in restaurants. Sometimes Id go to Antonios Pizza Restaurant to buy cigarettes for my Mother out of that old machine, Not many quarters was all it cost to get a box of Delicious.  Having done this enough times,I figured a way to get my first pack of Cigarettes.

   I was a collector at the time, and I had an eagle eye.  I collected golf balls, stamps, coins, and the like......I decided to collect beer bottles off the street to trade in for quarters. A handful of those and I was sure to get a pack. 

    I sure did, I bought a box of Marlboro. I smoked like 6 in a row.  I was 13 yo, I imagine it must have looked odd that a BOY was Smoking. I got high again.   Then I couldnt keep this secret to myself, off to a payphone I called my Friend Shawn at the time to have him bicycle down to meet me for I was also just learning how to pressure others into my illness.   He smoked like a pro. We both Smoked! A smoking buddy!   We Definitely belonged in a group that no one else could handle. We were Smokin fools!  We didnt really have any other friends.

    We hid cigarettes under a commercial air conditioner at the Exxon gas station. No eveidence, no proof, no beatings. We would plan to meet to smoke together, and ride bicycles. Very Athletic......

    My smoking took off, and beer bottles were plentiful, and the more practice I got the better, I could relate to others at last, instead of the strangers in my home. 

  Smoking and being what I thought was cool eventually led to hanging out with older people who drank Beer, the two ought never be parted........

     22 years later, I dont attract friends with my Smoking, rather they dont desire to be around it. I cant Smoke wherever I damn well please. I dont have to hide my Smoking, but it is becoming more of an annoyance to others.   PUFF, PUFF,PUFF!    I know a few Smokers, but not many.   The taboo of Smoking has reached great heights. The Society at large can be punishing at times in regards to Smoking.  

    I dont blame Phillip Morris for my Smoking, I picked it up, I could have chosen not to. I am never surprised that I get Bronchitis, Pneumonia, or anything ill wise related to my habit. For me Smoking is much more for me, than just the Smoking itself. I found as a young person a relation, a connection to others, I felt like I was looked as cool, not a brat, not a Family problem, not a skinny kid in school. Of course I am not cool today, not that I ever was. Ahhh, my imagination.......
    Nowadays, I pay 9 dollars a box, I frequent the Doctors far more often than my non Smoking friends, and I smell like wet tobacco most all the time.  My hands are often cold, and I find that every once in a while I feel a big flutter in my heart, whatever.    Im in giant Denial about the consequences of my Smoking.

    Smoking has more enduring Power than I can seemingly muster, I am devoted to the Smoke. I will drive in the middle of the cold dark night for a box, I will budget according to my habit over my rent. I will and do Love Smoking, but this, like Booze must be an affair from a distance. I can still love it, but I can also be willing to let it go. 

Grateful?

I cannot remember what I did last year during Thanksgiving.  I was in an Alcoholic Black-Out.  All I DO know is that the Universe was lining up...many stars, many moments, re arranging, waiting for the right second.........So that I might make a Decision in the next few days afterwards.

   I was living in Manchester, Ct, in a rooming house. I was likely sitting behind my desk of gold, all full of Brandy......Stink mouth in full effect, gums rotting, laundry piled up due to lack of a handful of quarters.   Smoke tendrils rising above me, I can be certain I was in sheer panic, for rent was coming due and I knew I had not enough....I had borrowed a fair share of cash from friends and family and still I wasnt caught up....700$ short... DAMN!   Having been unemployed for sometime, I was frustrated, getting sickly and still thirsty as only an Alcoholic can  fully appreciate...Definitely scared.....No direction, little hope, and only vision enough to plan a nap....."God, Please Dont let me wake up" Selfishly begging in my mind....I can remember that much......

    That day wasnt much different from any other in those weeks leading up to this particular Holiday, last year.

    Full of lies, and resentment, and shame, and filth, and sloth, I was cozy, in a twisted acceptance that I had fully mis-recognized as my destiny.

   Im sure I planned for most of the day, the latest excuse for my landlord......

   Worse though, I wrote letters to my partner, whom at the time was in Prison for having beaten me good just a few months before, claiming my undying love for him....and writing fantasy after fantasy of how things would be different this time around, when he was released....Guilt had driven me to write these letters, I couldnt afford the 5k bail this time....My bones had healed and the bruises all gone.....He surely was suffering more than I.  Crying disgustingly, I sealed the envelope.....stamped it....He Promised not to hurt me again, and I believed it.... This had been the 3rd time in a year he struck me....The 2nd time I was hospitalized from his abuse driven by drinking.

     And now, here I was abusing myself all over creating such turmoil and pain inside, overtly spreading it outward so that I could relieve some of it......I only hurt more people in the aftermath....

    So thirsty, just blot it all out..."Take me away!" "Please..."   The only kind of prayer I knew at the time.....

   I had planned ahead though, having succumbed t the Manchester Community Food Pantry...I had some Ramen Noodles and a few cans of raviolis on the shelf, an inventory any drunk could be proud of....I was set, at least for that day...A day at a time, right?

    Poor, Poor me....I was a wreck....But I had a bottle....Shaking uncontrollably, my knee caps ready it seemed, to blow off, every shot I took was relief of a crazy sort...Insanely dizzy, my sugars rising, dropping, I took a sugar test...17, WOW! Thats pretty low, better have another shot.....

    Fast Forward.....TODAY-


     I have so many blessings, I cannot count them.....Shelter as safe as heaven, friends all about and around, plans that I will follow through on, fewer enemies, cash in my pocket, not much, but enough. A job, a 12 step objective, more food than I can imagine, an ex partner who is safe and forgiven, MY HEALTH RESTORED, my mind re set and thoughtful...Direction I can trust, some reparations re paid, many to come but the willingness is there, not thought of as a "someday" thought.

   Panic and terror has been replaced with heart felt gratefulness, open mind, and light so bright.

   On this day, I am not running....I am just being, available..to do the work I have been directed to do...Thanks Alot God!

Tighty Whities.....What was I thinking?

   Hmmmm,



  I went to the store recently as I desired new undergarments.  I typically wear Boxer Briefs, comfortable and cozy for all sake.

   Intent on Change, I looked around, thought to myself what can I try that I havent?  G strings? Nah, with a bony ass, that'll never do, more like putting a rubber band on a stick......
  Sport briefs? No way, a little too gay for me....

    Then, I saw them, re-packaged prolly only worn once then returned, it was on sale, so what , who cares?!  9 Pair of Hanes Brand Tighty Whiteys!   Thats it!, a journey back in time I could relive what it was like to keep all my precious goods, close and cozy.

    I went home with my new purchase all excited, I planned on prancing around and being Free.....Like a dream.

  Quickly, I showered and pulled up a pair of the White cloth made just for me, a Small, 28-30!!!!! Ahhh, Nice and snug, all pulled together I adjusted my package so carefully as to pose, but secretly of course.......Just like a model.

    I relaxed and felt confidence in my Jeans.

 A couple hours later I found myself adjusting myself regularly and wondered.....What? Whats Happening?     They Promised! They Promised!

   I went to the privacy of the bathroom, and pulled my jeans open, one button, two button, TA DA!

   Pure disappointment enveloped me as I discovered one of my jewels was hanging out the left side leg opening, One Ball! Who wants to see one BALL?   Not very attractive.   This isnt what I had bargained for.....

    Then it dawned on me..... I wasnt a pre pubescent boy......I was a man standing in Tighty Whiteys all stretched out, with a ball hangin out.....I thought it was just a manufacturing dilemma....

   So the next day a new way, a new pair, I went about working and the like and AGAIN, the same awful reaction.......Were my balls just scared to be crushed and awaiting escape?   I turned around to see if at least my flat ass looked any different...NO, there wasnt any ass to be found at all....just air filling the seat of these underpants, kinda like a grumpy old mans ass might look like....

  Disappointed and broken by the image I had just seen....I just shook my head and looked downward. It was another sad moment of Body Image.


   In conclusion its the reality that sometimes hurts.....Im 35 yo, my body is as good as its gonna get FOR NOW.    I dont like Tighty Whiteys.   They stretch, they create Saggin Baggins as a dear friend would say....

   So now I have 9 pair of great dusting cloths.........

 

Lady with the CRAZY EYES!

I saw a LADY last night, she appeared from the darkness......Then I knew......Instantly I thought I felt the wind come back into my sails, because when I see MY LADY, my heart beats faster, I get all over excited, and I cant wait to hear.....

Her voice....her laugh, and see her smile...

I cannot describe the why, or hows, about us, but it is special, unique and I love to savor the moments, when I sit next to her, drive around with her, cause mischief with her.
For example, there was a situation that happened, while we drove home last night, a man, likely a boy drove right past me, on a single lane road, and My Lady and I were like" Well thats DEFINITELY not ok with us" So I pressed gently on both my horn and the gas, just to follow this young law breaking boy. We followed for about a mile horn blaring and laughter so loud and full of Joy!

Then the man-boy, whatever got away, luckily he turned for his lesson, wasnt over had he continued forward..........ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My LADY and I like the simple life. More importantly, we like EVERYONE to know.

The moral of the story, dont be a man boy in a fast car passing us. Its just not right. It makes the LADY and I get CRAZY EYES!

My Truck is broken....

Well, Being without a useful vehicle is DEFINITELY not my cup of tea. I have been looking out the window at Truckety now, for about 12 hours......Willing it better, but its not working.......Is there a secret document somewhere that says Mechanics get the entire weekend off? Why does there website say, OPEN SAT 8 30 to 12, And then no one answers at all!? WHY?! Terrible, I say.....Terrible...

Now being a DEPENDENT, I must forgo my delicious cigarettes and musical accompaniment to school, REAL NICE.

Ill be forced to carry a backpack filled with food, and gloves, ALL day! Oh I can foresee a long day ahead with an aching back, cold buns, cuz now without the protection of Truckety Ill have to sit on a cold stone during the breaks at school, and prolly develop PILES...REAL NICE! After the surgery my flat iron ass will never be the same......The Torture!

Then after 230 Ill return home to sit and gaze blankly at the television, dreaming of long open roads, the wind in my hair, and the soft sound of Trucketys engine roaring with might no man besides myself, has ever known.......So sad!

This nightmare wont end there....On Monday during my banana and cigarette break, I will be obligated to call the Mechanic whom, I imagine is completely rested after neglecting worrying about his work for 2 whole days, and ask for an appointment, which, He'll likely say to me " Sure Karl, I can fit you in, just make sure you bring a few weeks worth of paychecks" Thanks Alot God........My banana wont taste very good at all....My body will suddenly reject the potassium locked within...The cigarette will burn rapidly down to my lip as I realize how poor I will be for weeks to come.....Burning the flesh, I will return to work, only to be accused of having a Herp.

I just cannot cope.

I will sadly bring my Truckety to the Automotive surgery department, Monday evening, leaving it alone overnight so that it can be exposed to the sights and sounds of street folk, and street folk behaviors....Poor Truckety...IM SORRY! OH.....

Of course Tuesday will come with Nerves of racket...and certain paralyzing tension....waiting for my phone to buzz......God, did the mechanic forget my number? Should I call just to make sure? Is Truckety ok?! The worries will mount, and become part of my all tainted nervous system.....Ill likely make several machining mistakes at work.....Laughing nervously and shaken, My supervisor will ask me for a drug test, and Ill pee accidentally on the edge of the cup.....Gross.....

By then also the scab on my lip will start to itch as most wounds do when they heal, but I wont let it....I'll pick at it until only a half a lip remains, causing concern and blood gets on my jeans......Pick,pick,pick,pick........

Then at lunch time, my phone will ring and all will be well.....YAY!

I love my Truck. Together we are a team, we go places no one really wants to know about....."I'll Never Tell".........

My fascination with BEES, Explained........

I love BEES. Everyone knows this because I cant stop talking about them, BZZ,BZZZ, But seriously, I was thinking today whilst being a robot at work, about my fascination with these lovely beautiful winged workmen of the sky.......


When I was young, Im talking 4 to 15, I was living with parents and was often punished for behaving, well, mostly badly. Most often the punishment was going to bed, sometimes for complete weekends.

My home wasnt the sort of home you might imagine, it was more like a well created horror flick stage set, literally, old, broken, wallpaper shredding, water stained, falling apart, kinda dark. In my bedroom there was no electricity....so when the sun set, that was that. In any case in the Spring and Summer days, I can remember the biggest fear I had....It was Mud Wasps.....They would fly right in the old slat style windows, and make nests of mud in the corner of my bedroom..It was a frightening sight.....In hindsight, their size and ability to fly with a body seemingly so out of proportion, was grotesque and scary.... They looked like little evil monsters, a terribly twisted look. I would lay in bed, and just wait for one to notice me and come attack me. Or maybe in the middle of the night they would DEFINITELY get me....

The work they did was simple, they came in, built some more nest, and flew right back out the window. Nothing else.....Soon once Summer began there were more, maybe 6 or 7....coming and going as they pleased just for shelter, but in mind they were plotting to bite the Sh*t out of me, and I would finally succumb to a BEE murder.

Year after year this would happen and after a time, they were no longer threatening...They allowed for me an escape from thought of the life I was living....I wondered about THEM. I wondered how far they had to go to get the right kind of mud, did they like rich thick black soil, or just plain old sand? What did they furnish their mud house with? TV? Rotary antenna? I never did see the antenna....But I still wondered, Once the sun set, what did they do in there?

After a time,I learned the timing from when one flew out the window and when they came back, from that I could judge about how far they flew.....

They werent after me. They kept me company on some very dark days.

A few years later I was outside on a ladder watching my Father put new shingles on the house, and litte did I know, I was rattling a hornets nest under the gutter via the ladder, WELL, they came out in a flurry and got attacked, It was my fault, 12 bees, 12 stings, 12 deaths......12...HMMMM, was that an OMEN? I wonder.....

That was my first experience with the vengeance of BEES.

The second time was just as unintended as the first...cleaning the yard one day, I was moving old rotting railroad ties and other wood crap. I picked up one tie and suddenly a whole nest of Bumble Bees came falling out, I was Horrified.......I ran and ran.....They never got me, but I learned very fast. Some BEES like the hieght and safety of dry homeland, while other BEES like living in the moisture rich comfort of deterioration.

The third and final time, was when I was mowing the ground, and Hornets came right up out of the chute, all over me.......I ran and ran again(Seems where I developed the habit of running away from my problems).....Hornets are easily pissed off, while Bumble Bees not so much.

As I got older and wiser I came to understand BEES alot better and learned how to work with and around them when I encounter them.

I did a fair amount of painting and trim work for a dear friend of mine over the past few years. Trim is a pretty dry spot for any BEE......I discovered that even when you remove a cover to their entire nest, aggravation CAN be avoided if its done slowly.....they seem to Understand in some way or another how to perceive true threat.... Most hives have one or 2 guard BEES, flying around making BZZZ sounds and stuff.....And if you watch closely at a wood BEE nest long enough you will find the guard BEE will even chase a bird or Dragonfly right away, bravery at its best considering the size difference and flying abilities.


I have murdered alot of BEES, especially at night, My dear friend let me know exactly what they are doing at night-Nothing......So that's a good time to get at a small hive if you have to murder them.

There are even laws protecting larger BEE hives, Bet you didnt know that, MURDERERS.

I love BEES, I will continue to watch them, be next to them, and be nice to them.