Then, There Are Dark Days

Dark Days

Dark Days. Least fun of all the days there are, but they need to be spoken of regardless of our desire. These are not the anniversaries, those you can prepare for over time. These are not the birthdays, those you can steel yourself for those. Now, these are the days that were special for such hyper-specific reasons that no one but you both knew them.

What today is, for the point of this, doesn’t matter. Plus, even I like to keep certain things behind doors that only I and perhaps a very small few get to go into and discreetly look around before reverentially closing the door again.

I tend to be very snappish on dark days, a shorter fuse than even I have. I couldn’t tell you why. I suppose it has to do with trying to hold all of the other things back against, trying to not flood the mind with the negative bound up in the wonderful.

The problem with the dark is that no matter how hard you try, the light seeps into it. Usually, I am fully in support of this. Still, some things need to stay the same in our memory and not be purged away like a forgotten phone number replaced with some very Disney version of the facts.

It is better for the soul. I think that we remember it the way it was and not how we would have had it been. Sometimes there were fights when you want there you want to be kissed. You want there to be laughter, and all there was in actuality was tears. Disguising the dark with a rainbow is a disservice to the memory of the things that genuinely occurred. A false way of making yourself feel more like a real little boy instead of the puppet we all must infrequently be.

On dark days like this, I tend to hermit even more than I usually do and write or read a great deal. As much as I would love to tell you I am going to write copious amounts, I am most likely going to read comic books on my computer and try not to yell at my children. They have no idea why I am upset and why explaining it would only upset me more.

The weather is definitely not helping, although the clouds will most likely aid the temperature and not allow my brain to get to unparalleled pain levels. I don’t think we need to go anywhere today, so it will be a quiet day if nothing else. Even if I do have to go out, it is most likely for a quick little errand that will most likely do me some good to look at the sky instead of walls and ceiling.

I know I am the height of Bear Emo by saying things like dark days, but the words are in there, and all I am is the court stenographer. You don’t think I actually come up with all of this by myself, do you? No, the little gnome people in my head are awfully busy, and I have to say I don’t particularly mind.

So I will drink my first, and then my subsequent cups of coffee, look at my kind shoot other people on Xbox for a bit, snuggle the little guy, and then see if Stephen King’s kid is as good at comic books as I have heard that he is.

Take a second today, and just take a deep breath and realize that every second you think you can shrug off is retained in some way. You genuinely need to make sure that you enjoy every second of the good.

State of The Polyamorous

Thought Bomb

I was about twenty the first time I moved out to Kansas. I moved because I was hopelessly in love with an idea. I was in love with the idea of a woman and a man loving each other for the sake of it and not for the various reasons that people invent. When I fell in love with Naomi it was like that, we fell in love because we did. No, with this person though, and it was on us both, there was a fantasy that we either did or didn’t want, depending on the day.

When Naomi came down to Kansas, three years later, we fell into rhythm and harmony instantly. No missed motion, no extraneous movements. We loved one another, I loved the son she brought me, we loved being together and, I suppose most importantly, we were in love with being in love with one another for the rest of our lives. It was always just assumed we would be together. It was dating, she wasn’t shacking up with me, we planned on getting married from minute one. The only reason we didn’t get married while we were still in Kansas is that we couldn’t stand the thought of the people we loved not being there when we did.

Spoiler alert there I guess.

We decided we were going to be polyamorous before we did anything. We never doubted it at all. We knew we each had exponential amounts of love to give to the world and it wasn’t fair if we constrained ourselves to share it with one person. A deal-breaker for most people, but with us, it was the thing that made everything perfect. We had the “poly talk” with our friends to make them more comfortable around the idea. We had other partners we loved deeply and it never once made us love one another less, I dare say it did the exact opposite. At the end of a weekend when we were both with our respective partners we would lay down together and tell tales and laugh and smile and everything would be amplified because of it.

In the years since she died, and especially in the last month or so I have been giving a lot of thought to polyamory and the things that it entails. I have cemented in my mind and heart that with Naomi it worked because we were both so dedicated to loving everything and everyone as much as we could. Since then, it has been hit and misses to tell you the truth and it is massively disorienting to me. I am just used to being in these relationships where love is dripping, pun intended, and, well, it simply wasn’t.

I am never going to be not polyamorous mind you, I just think I am going to be a lot more, I don’t know the word, but it will be different and I won’t lie, I am sad because of that. I need to think about the next part of what I had planned to write here.

Two Of A Few, Definitely

This is me, JameyBear

A funny story, I think it is needed after the vitriol of the last, yes?

There I was, my newborn son in my arms, my face exploding with pride beyond anything I had felt, well at least since the last one was born, and in the waiting room were my mother-in-law and my dearest Bethany. I was full of sweet endorphins and, to be fair, utterly emotionally and physically exhausted from the last few hours with the baby and the last few days of having Preach-It-Jesus-Freak as close to my life and I as was humanly possible without being a motherfucking suppository.


As I was saying, I was standing with my glorious son in my arms, well my hand really, and I completely bypassed the She-Harpy (Yes I know all harpies are biologically female, it rolls off the tongue, okay?) and I gave my precious creation to Bethany first instead of my mother-in-law. As much as I love telling the story in the “Bethany was closest to me” tradition, the truth was I bloody well did it on purpose because Bethany had been there for Naomi and I a thousandfold more than her parents had been, one of whom couldn’t be bothered in making the trip down to see the birth of his newest grandson.

Whereas there was such hardship that came both later that hour and in the days, weeks and yes, years to come, that innocent moment of a human being touching another human being for the very first time. Looking down onto that face with it’s closed eyes and seeing nothing but love and joy, that is what a birth is, that is what Creation is.

One Of A Few Probably

This is me, JameyBear

Today is a sense of tremendous joy and tremendous anger for me.

Nine years ago I was blessed by the Goddess and the strength of my wife to welcome my third son into this crazy world we live in. There was, as both of my other sons, issues with his birth and the wonderful people in the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit at Strong Memorial Hospital made sure we had not only the best care we could receive for him but the compassion that is so desperately needed in times when your heart is torn from your chest and you are looking down at your hours’ old son not knowing what would happen next.

For those of you blessed to know my little hyper-mimic, you know that he is active and wonderful and remembers every bad word I shouldn’t say around him and a million other things that make him sweet and lovable and kind and gentle and, most importantly, so very much like his mother. His mother would smile and her golden eyes would light up a room and a laugh that would make the angels themselves weep with joy.

His mother who doesn’t get to see him today.

No, no I am not going to spiral into that hole, but she is indeed gone and every single person in the world who ever knew her is missing her.

What makes me angry isn’t the tragedy of early death, no what makes me mad is that there are so many that are alive that shouldn’t be when she is gone.

Yep, I said that.

Karma, yeah I know.

I still want the bad people dead.

Welcome Me Back To The Light, By Coming With Me To The World Of Darkness

The Broken Goddess

I was greatly influenced by White Wolf Publishing’s World Of Darkness and all of its assorted and prolific issue. Indeed I was a Live Action Role Player for a time, as the books were indeed designed with that purpose, however, mostly it is the rich mythology and world-building of the White Wolf universe that left me in awe. They truly went from Creation to the modern-day and other than their slivers of fantasy, they left the majority of the world alone so you could suspend belief just enough that what you were reading wasn’t the babbling of an idiot with too much Whiskey in them for the day.

There has been this itch in my head for weeks now to write something sprawling, interconnected, yet nestled safely in a known vector. Late last night, as I was laying in bed struggling to sleep, the World of Darkness popped into my mind unbidden and I was convinced that I had found precisely what I had been looking for this entire time. Then, as happens when we find the golden thread in the center of the labyrinth, we run as fast as we can with it until we free ourselves of the maze.

That being said, I have decided that I am essentially going to rewrite the birth of the World Of Darkness. This entails the birth and betrayal of Caine (the World Of Darkness adds the e), the formation of the First and Second Cities, the origin of the Clans, all of it. It is an easy write because I have all the source material, so research is a minimal thing and the enjoyment is epic, so my Return of Investment is nearly perfect. The fact that I am not going to do them in any particular time frame makes it even easier. Once a day? Three a week? I don’t know. I just know I am going to get them all done.

Today is a different day than yesterday. Before you all roll your eyes and make the obvious jokes regarding days following one another, maybe hear me out a little bit and curb the acerbic remarks that are internally done to their designated cooking times.

These last few weeks have been immensely hard for me.

An ending to a relationship that I did not see ending, the anniversary of the death and the birthday of my late wife, the coronavirus, civil unrest, fighting family, having to actually say the sentence “…but the Aryan Brotherhood isn’t supposed to be your friends..”, a lot of shit went down and is still going down and my brain is using this little side project as a way to direct the energy that would be put towards the toxic people in my life and soul away and into something that, if nothing else, gives me a sense of joy and accomplishment.

So, yeah, it’s different.

I have the energy I haven’t had in weeks because I had a talk with a dear friend yesterday that reaffirmed my faith in the Goddess Herself and the intended consequences of supposed randomness.

So I will take a break for a few hours, play with my kids, take care of the literal and metaphorical housecleaning that needs to be done and when you next read things here you will enter into the World of Darkness with me and take the first steps into a broader truth.