Before you speak, ask yourself, is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve on the silence? -Sathya Sai Baba

Thursday, January 13, 2011

vague, telling my side of the story, but not really.

We did, and then she couldn't, so we didn't, but she said she would, but she didn't, she was gonna, but then I said it, which hurt her feelings, so she didn't, so I said more, which got her madder, which made it worse, and things got darker, until we slept, and I still love her, but I feel like something's missing, and not between us, but in me. I need to man up, and I don't know how.

She wants a man, not a wimp. but what can I do?

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

It doesn't improve on the silence

It's a bit like cutting a boil to let the pus out. I've got all this wet sick inside me and I have no idea what to do about it. It probably won't matter in a few days, once I'm back to myself, but I need to put it somewhere where it doesn't matter, where it can sit and fester in peace.

Here's the issue - why do anything? What is the meaning of life? What a stupid fucking cliche of a question, but there we are. So, since we're asking, I mean, I'm here, let's chat: what is the meaning, the purpose of life, what is the "Ultimate concern" that Tillich speaks of?

In the sermon this past Sunday, Fr. Murphy said that Jesus life could be summed up in one line: "He went about, doing good." Why do good? It makes others happy? One could say that it is the will of God that we be happy and free, that that is what he sent Jesus here for - to free the prisoner, heal the sick, liberate the oppressed. So say I go about doing good. Who's going to heal me? Who's going to free me? It keeps coming back to this - I'll do OK for a while and then feel terrible, and the truth is, I'm pretty sure that I don't work hard enough, I'm "work-shy" as the English term it. I don't want to work that hard. I don't want to do anything, most of the time.

UGH. I'm so fucking boring when I'm like this. I know what I need to do: work harder, try again, put in the time, but why? and for what? Music? Here is a fact: I could not play another note and the world would not be one bit different. Writing seems only purposeful (and apparently has been since 1983) for venting my spleen. I mean, I can't think of the last time I wrote with such flow and ease. All I really want to do is talk shit. Well here you, little wordsmith who lives in my brain: you get to talk as much shit as you want, right here. Just vomit to your heart's content.

Anyway, theology is a sucker's game, there's nothing I really want to/can do. I wish I could just give up, stop worrying, stop pretending there's something I need to do. I'm making myself sick with it, and I just want to stop, but if I stop, I'll end up exactly where I am now, only it'll be 5 years down the road, and I'll be even further behind than I am now.

My ambition coupled with my laziness is ruining my life.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

What did I google today?

Part of the reason this writing thing hasn't been so fruitful lately is that I've been afraid to say what I mean. I've been angrier and more pent-up than even when I was with Stephanie, which is saying something, but I wrote more because I didn't care what she thought. I knew she would never leave me, so I didn't worry about anything I wrote. This may have caused me to be incidentally cruel, if that even makes sense. I just said what I said, and I didn't really care about her feelings.

In contrast, I REALLY care what Katie thinks. Her good mood, her happiness, her not sulking (which she can do, like a master) is paramount to me. I gauge the weather and the tilt of the earth by her. I am so pleased that she is my wife, and so into her, that I am obviously not going to write something that I think she might read and get upset about, as it will ruin my day, possibly my week. Though, truthfully, what will she do, withhold sex? That's cruel, but see, I need to be able to say shit like that. I know she's not withholding sex deliberately, but I also know she's not taking care of herself, because she's scared to find out things are really broken, and she's scared of the pain and discomfort of finding out exactly what IS wrong.

Well, I'm gonna keep bugging her about it.

I titled this post "What did I google today?" which is fun and clever and got me checking things (add to the list "google history"). Here's the list, in case anyone is interested:


Searched for stephany yantorn


Searched for google history -

Viewed 1 result

Not starred
Web History -


Searched for amber benson

Searched for amber benson former vegetarian -

Viewed 1 result

Not starred
Amber Benson Pics - Amber Benson Photo Gallery - 2010... -

Searched for Amber Benson -

Viewed 2 results

Not starred

505 x 650 - 40k

Not starred
Amber Benson - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia -
Not starred
| Best Hot Butter Rum Batter | | Paula Deen Slow Cooker... -
Not starred
Slow Cooker Hot Buttered Rum - Recipes for American/Canadian ... -
Not starred
A Year of Slow Cooking: Hot Buttered Rum in the CrockPot -
Not starred
Colonial Hot Buttered Rum Recipe - -
Not starred
Vegetarian Slow Cooker: Hot Buttered Rum -


Searched for hot buttered rum


Searched for the function of music is to release us -

Viewed 1 result

Not starred
Quote Details: Sir Thomas Beecham: The function of music...... -

See the one at the top? Yeah, that's the "one that got away", sort of, not really. She's this girl that I dated who basically broke my heart and head, and led me, indirectly, of course, to marrying Steph, which was both one of the stupidest things I ever did, and one of the smartest. Smart because I picked a woman who gave me a lot of space when I needed it (and who I didn't care enough about to worry too much about) and stupid because marrying a woman that you only kinda half-love is a terrible idea. Loving somebody because you know they love you and won't break your head? Yeah, that's not really love.

So anyway, back to Yantorn, I realized that that is one search I am not entirely comfortable sharing with my jealous, red-headed, Irish, hot-tempered, prone to jumping to conclusions wife. I can, of course, and she'll store it in her steel trap memory and bring it out to torture herself (not me. No, torture is for the self. Weapons are for others.) which I would hate. I love Katie beyond all reason, I'm stupid for her, I'm terrified she'll leave me, and I live in fear that she'll stop loving me, find somebody else, think I'm less of a man, get bored with me, or otherwise remove me from the sunshine of her good graces.

I'm just one of those guys who is curious about his exes. I want to know what happened to her. She's one of probably 3 women in my life that I genuinely loved - I'm not sure that Carrie counts.

So, to sum up, I've gotta start being honest, even if it means that nobody gets to see it until I'm dead.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.


Computer sits on my lap, almost 40 now (nearly six months away, but I've been feeling old lately), feeling just a touch sorry for myself. My previous blog bursts with activity and a sense of life - I was working it out, trying stuff, saying yes to everything that came along. Now, I spend most days at work, most nights at home, I don't see my friends from those days much anymore. Why?

Guilt, mostly, I suppose. I spent a lot of time destroying the edifices of my life because I felt guilty that I had destroyed something that so many people believed in. I remember very distinctly those days when I was contemplating tearing it all down. I would do a lot of tarot readings in those days, and the card that came up, over and over, was The Tower - lightning crashing down on a seemingly impregnable stone tower, splitting it, burning it, two figures tumble from the top. That's what I did.

I wanted more. And now I have it. It is less social, less connected, less creative, less successful, and I am older. I did this, and I would do it again. This may not be wise, but it is true. I might do it differently, in a different way, but I would still have burned it all to the ground, if I had to.

2006-2008 was challenging, and 2009 was awful. God it was terrible. 2010 was a slow dawning after the pitch black night, with a beautiful sunrise around September.

So now what? Why do this all again? Why pretend that anything can be like it was? People have moved, broken up, and the people that haven't, the ones that haven't moved on to brighter pastures, well, they seem like a lot of them are going through the motions. Maybe they are.

We can't have the world the way it was, and wanting it, harkening back to some golden age, is just my usual bullshit that I indulge in when it's past midnight on a weeknight and I know I've got an early day at work tomorrow.

It's the new year, and we can do stuff, and we can try again, and we can be humble. I can be humble, I can try again, try to build a life. There is no law saying I'm too old, I just have to be honest, damn the consequences. I've screwed up, a bunch. I've hurt people and taken good fortune for granted, I've tried to change my life and blown it up in the process, but I'm still here.

I've got a woman I love, a job that I don't hate, a musical project, a couple of places to write, and a sense that maybe I don't have to kill myself for the things I've done.

Rambling, yes, I know. But no one reads this, and it needs to be said. I need to get back on the horse.