A “Bah Humbug” Redemption/Reflection Song

Well it’s that time of the year again. My favorite time to hate. My favorite time to just reflect on the year that just passed. It’s Christmas time. It’s Christmas day. It’s Christmas Morning. Merry Fucking Christmas or what I like to say, “a Bah Humbug to you”.

So I’m just sitting here at my home away from my home. In the lovely beautiful Puget Sound of the great green state of Washington. I’m home. I’m with family, and what other time is there for me to be with family. No other.

What a beautiful state this is. I cannot state that enough. It’s a beautiful state, full of greenery and character. Full of living life and crisp air. Full of views and lovely sites. It’s a lovely state; a lovely state that I’ve grown to love when I’m apart and learned to hate when I’m living here. Such a dichotomy. I’m just sitting here at this drug shop called Tully’s wriitng my thoughts. Writing my life.

What a year it has been. This year actually started late last year, but it is definitely the year that marks the change in my life. Sure not everything is all kosher salty good but things are working towards the right direction.

I think this year was so “good” to me because it all started with a bang. “My Drug of Choice” marked the beginning of my year. That will always be a thing that will never leave me. “My Drug of Choice”. It’s just who I am. I love to flirt flirt flirt and boy did I do my share this year.

Grant it most of my attention has been directed toward that certain someone that I can never have, but I did flirt and I can honestly say for the most part, it seemed that she enjoyed it, until that fateful day where things changed between us. But, it was fun and great while it lasted. Even now, though our relationship will never return to how it once was, we are still good together. But, she is just a lost cause for it will never happen between us.

I am at point where I lost my stream of consciousness so I’m just going to ramble ramble about the life that is or is it was.

This year never ceased to surprise me and I am a man who is not easily wowed. Such an old soul who is empathetic about everything, who feels for everyone, and who is just numb to everything. Nothing ceases to amaze me anymore, but I was totally amazed.

Not only by the “game” or “lack thereof” in the flirting front, but with everything.

This year marks the year of my socialness. Sure I still don’t go out as much as the “normal” person, but for me, I’ve been going out a lot and hanging out a lot. Mostly with Scott, Rutledge and the usual crew with our poker nights and just our weekly get togethers, but also with PJ and now it seems “The legendary horse”. This is just about the right amount of socialization for me. It’s not every night or even every week. It just is when it is and that is perfect for me.

With all of these “outing” adventures, there are some things are are missing. I’ve lost my way with my “direction”. I’ve lost my flow to just write and write. I’m not as focused anymore on my writing and hopefully this coming year will fix that. Hopefully I’ll get down with the scripts that I’m writing and create something else. Maybe the play that Scott and I both planned. Maybe that will be my “creative” outlet this year. Hopefully.

I will write again. I will finish first drafts of my two or three scripts that I want to get back on. I will finish. That is me, all say and no action, but things will change. They should anyway. They should. Back to focus. Back to action.

Hopefully the writing groups that I partake in give me the inspiration and the pressure to do what I need to do. Maybe the past couple of months will give me what it is that I was missing in my life that prevented me to write what it is that is necessary. My life.

Love found. Love lost. Love. It is the ever escaping feeling of feellings that I truly never found. Just one infatuation to the next. Just one learning experience to the next. Just one girl to the next and who will be the next?

These past couple of months has been busy on the social front. Many many firsts for me. I wonder when those firsts will happen again.

First there was two, then there was one. And the key word is was.

I’m a very instinctual person, basing judgments and my impulsiveness on my gut. Always been, but why was I so blinded? Maybe it was the romantic in me that was taking charge. Maybe it was the idealist. Maybe it was just simply my hormones. Who knows?

Who knows what my “compass” was looking for when she found me? It went and went. I learned and learned. Liking her for who she is but having doubts all the way. I pushed those thoughts aside; pushed those doubts aside because those feelings should not be there. It’s funny I’ve always listen to my advice and my gut and this time I turned a blinds eye and it got me in trouble.

She was fixed and now she moved on. I Fix You. Lies and deception. Things said to make me feel better. Things said to make her feel better. It was a relationship of miscommunicating communication of things that matter. I thought that there could have been something that lasted more than it was, but she obviously didn’t feel that way.

Taking care of her. That is what I do best. Helping her with her bath, washing her hair, feeling her pulse. Keeping her from the a coma that she so feared. Being the geeky rebel that I am, internet thievery for her. Those are things that I did for her and those are things that I will do again. But she never felt that way even though I did.

“You could be the one” she says to me. Apparently not.

“Rebound” I say. She says more. But she knows all it was, was a “board”. I threw up bricks and she played the key; blocked me out. She moved on to someone she covered for. Lies and deception. Things that should never be.

Open and open. Full of scars my heart was and she cut deeply. The first cut is the deepest. It certainly is. Her song. Not mine.

You never forget your first. You never forget how it happens or who it was with. As much as I try to forget about her, as much as I try to forget what was, it is hard for me to. My thoughts will always wander back to the things and moments we shared. To her little pets Chitah and Blue. It goes back to what might have been with the other that I was found out with. It just makes me think about my future and where it will go, if it will go. It is open and I think I will just leave it at that.

Distance is the telling sign of the things to come. Distance is the telling sign of where things came from. We were just too different and we were just to “open” in the relationship.

Dancing, superficiality, materialism, hip to the hippity hop, and other things that I know I’ve missed. It just doesn’t mesh with my non dancing, still water, have what I have, rocking to the rock self. Things just doesn’t compare or mesh in those matters.

It is what it is. It was what it was. A passing class in lust and self assurance. A passing class in “blossoming” and “trust”. A passing class in “making you feel better”.

Bitter, better, angrier. Just a little bit of each, but it will all pass as I finish this sentence. There is no point in lingering on what will never work. Stephanie is right. I need to call it what it was, a “use-use” situation and not how I see it, “I don’t know, we’ll see what happens”.

So life goes on. Curiosity killed the cat as I will do my drop bys and my stalks until she is a distant memory.

Moving on and things to focus on. The lack of money is nothing new to me, especially now that I got a new place; A bigger place. The lack of money is scary but I’ll manage. I always do. It’s just my instinct for surivival, my instinct to make ends meet. No toys or booze, back to the hermit that is me. Enough of this socializing because the fun me is gone and here comes the serious crab.

Doggie Doggie is what I will get to help pass my time. Doggie Doggie is what I will get to be my only friend that I will constantly see. It will love me because I feed it. It will love me because I will be affectionate. It will love me because it just will. “Man’s Best Friend” the term and not the movie.

With all the good that I’ve listed and forgot, there will always be times of bad. Life is never this perfect where there is no balance for the good. Karma will always come back and haunt your silly ass. Maybe that’s what happened with Starry Flower.

Flashing. My hands slip as I told her what I was going to do. I thought it was just the playful horseplaying that we usually do, but I pole vaulted over the line and landed a 1,000 miles away.

Things were rough and cold. Shoulders were icy and their eyes burned. Mental problems, tears flowed, and excitement ceased. It never stood up during that week. Things were rough for me; mental anguish up the wazoo for what I’ve done. The violation, the violator. That is me.

But things patched up with my teary words and her “hateful” plea. We came to an understanding and things are working back to how they were but with less of the touchy touchy feely feely. Reconciliation.

But there is another reconciliation out there that will never come. There is another reconciliation out there that might.

It’s been a year and twenty something days since the severing of that strong connection. A taut string that is pulled on both sides and cut in the middle never to find a connection again. It cannot be tied together because the new end flaps in the wind, never to touch. No words or attempts to tie us together. Gone gone gone. Knowing me, I will never write. It’s just in my nature to never keep in touch. I rarely do. It’s bad of me, but it’s a fault that I can live with. It’s my character flaw.

For instance, even if Twinkle Twinkle writes back in the given weeks, I don’t know if I’ll respond. I’m not mad at what she did anymore, it was for the best, but I don’t know if I can live in that past again. It will just confuse me more. But I guess I’ll just see what happens as I let things flow.

As for the other reconciliation, just a gentle love tap has sent the wrong message for me, but she’s the “princessy” type that is all about her. Not to be mistreated, the shallowness in her prevents her from just accepting my apologies. I have no problems in admiting that I’m wrong. I was wrong in that case, but she misconstrued my intent. If that is what it is, then it will be what it is. But she’s damn cute.

Life is a series of miscommunications. It isn’t until someone tunes into your weird signal when things will get clear.

Life life. It goes and goes with the right things and the mistakes that take place. There is always a balance. Ying Yang.

The year to come. The ’06 is just around the corner. What is there to expect, what will happen? I don’t know as I follow through with my choices and give myself to the mystery of the blank slate. Bad things. Good things. Things will always be a surprising non-surprise. I’ll just go with the flow,flow with the go. That’s my motto.

Burn Burn Burn

Where doe the heart go when it no longer beats for the ideal that it once had? Where do we go when we are no longer wishing to be where we want to be? We are just moving zombies roaming the lone Earth with other zombies trying to get somewhere but never can.

Sitting here in this desolate aerospace of waiting, I sit and ponder the idea of never being able to love the love that I thought I was able to. I sit here and ponder what might have been between us? What might have been? What might have been?

I sit and sit and sit as people pass me by and I never look up to see or ever notice them. They are just the walking zombies no different than me. They experienced everything that I have ever experienced and so much more.

What might have been between us?

The flower blooms to reveal the true beauty but soon it dies without the proper nutrition that it needs. I am not a botanist nor a gardener. I am just a lone wanderer that came across this flower and was entraced by its mock beauty. I was blinded by its exterior beauty.

I went to it, sniffed its sweet aroma only to be poisoned by its scent. I fell trap to her sweet disguise. I fell trap by her amazing beauty that I fail to realize that I can never take care of her. I am not a botanist nor a gardener. I am just a lone wanderer.

I came to it not knowing what it is that I need to do to take care of it. I watered it, I fed it. I gave it all the nutrients that I thought that it needed and nothing more.

The flower is a strange being. It needs more than what I can provide. It needs much more than what I have. But I was too far gone, too far entranced by it’s beauty to realize that I can never keep it alive.

What else can it possibly need? Fun, entertainment, affection that I can no longer provide? I gave it much love, much heart and warmth. For a time, this dear flower did blossom for me. It blossomed and showed it’s beauty, but again, I was too blinded to see the true color is only black.

The thorns prick me and prick me. I bleed and bleed. My heart is dry. It bleeds no more as no more tears fall from my eyes.

All that burns in my veins is angry air, bitter air, jaded air.

The flower dies and leaves no seeds. There is nothing left for me to take. The flower, the seeds bloom somewhere else. To have someone else find it. Maybe he can take care of it better than I can. Maybe he is invincible to its sweet poison.

I know I was fool to fall for a flower. The scent made me weak. The sweet touch and pefume that it emits made me gaga for nothing else.

I knew I was getting in way over my head. I am no botanist. I am no gardener. I cannot take care of it. It will just die in my hands. It will die in my care.

So it did. It left me with nothing but bitter sweet memories as I pull out from her poison. Withdrawal was a bitch, but I’m through, I’m done. No longer under its control. No more.

It leaves me with nothing left to do but to wander on like before; the listless wanderlust zombie of yore; putting one foot forward and dragging the other until I fall down and never to get up or I reach my destination. Whichever comes first.

* * *

Slow and sure. Slow and sure. I get back to the daily grind of writing. I get back to the daily rambling of the nonsense of a senseless man of nothing.

Words flow and flow to the ether of space only to leave nothing words and meaningless poems about nothing in particular.

Waiting and sitting for my time to fly off into the world and be the bird in the sky that I’ve always wanted to be. Flying north for the winter that is upon me. Never south as that’s where everyone else goes. I go where no one goes.

I am the headless wanderer that goes wherever his feet take him. They go left so I go left. They go right so I go right. Right left right left left right right right, pretty soon I’m back to where I started from. Never leaving where I always wanted to leave.

From the ether I came to the ether I go. Gathered from the dust of the world did I come from and back to the worms and the bugs I will go.

Insect food is what we will always be, insect food is what I strive to be. Nothing but giving back to the Earth that provided for me.

Blinded by the mist that slowly comes my way. I’m lost in the silvery gray wetness. It suffocates me. I am so in it that I cannot see what it is that I am doing. Lost and lost, no equilibrium to keep me straight.

There is no more guiding star to take me where I need to go. No beacon of light to guide my way. I follow on and on like before, with only my gut insticts and my senses….