The More Things Stay The Same, The More They Change

I suppose it should matter that it is Saturday. I know it does to my friends in the ether who are gainfully employed and can rest from their burdens for a few days before going to serve the greater good once more in their chosen professions. For those of you, loving souls who work today and tomorrow as well know I have not forgotten you and I value your sacrifice and dedication just as much as those who work the weekdays alone.

Then there’s me, the unemployed guy with kids who haven’t been to physical school buildings since march and has had to look at his phone every day he has wanted to know the day of the week since very early May. It doesn’t matter what day it is in the long and the short of it, not to me. I mean, we don’t watch network TV, we don’t go anywhere, we don’t do anything. So, Day A is just as monotonous as Day R and even then I can’t tell the difference.

It is more annoying than distressing I suppose. I am sure there are some long-term psychological issues with quarantine I am not familiar with, but I am pretty sure that defeating COVID is far more important than anything that I might want to go out and do and I refuse to bring an illness that might not attack me as virulently back to people who it would decimate in every way.

My brain is very sludge-like today, so I am now going to string random things together until I don’t want to write anymore, sounds like a plan, no?

Yeah, I miss some of you WAY more than others. This is not something you are supposed, to be honest about when people ask about it. I am not going to lie and say you are in the top twenty of my People if you are simply not. If you can not accept that, that is your issue to work on internally, not my issue to change to suit the needs you have.

Who wouldn’t want to see their best and closest friends first? Isn’t that why you give them, justifiably it is mostly a negative thing, a ranking of “best” or “closest” in the first place? If I just wanted to see people I can just sit my fat ass on my stairs and wave at the hundreds of people who come down here every day to buy there stupidly illegal herbal supplements.

I want to hug my best friend and have her do that thing where she makes me believe the world isn’t completely waste and needs to be purged in a fire. I want to hug my Air Traffic Coordinator and spin them in a circle and make airplane noises because I am infantile and the thought of doing that gives me a laugh every time. I want to see the kids of my friends. I want to see the Warrior Princess and stun her with my fly-catching abilities, I want to give bro-hugs, to be a Bruncle, to see if you can play the guitar, to see how gigantic you have got since the last time I got to see you.

Writing sappy emails is fine and dandy, hell I do that out of quarantine, but being able to say those things to your face and make sure by your reaction I am not going to maudlin, or idiotic for that matter, is so much better than that. To see your eyes is everything, you know that, right?

I have a migraine. Yeah, yeah I know I always do. It is a bad one and I have been trying, successfully thus far if you are reading this on Saturday at all, to not go back to bed and sleep until the pain is gone and I can’t feel any feelings anymore, because I don’t want to do that thing right now, it is hard and sometimes you are allowed to do the whole “put down your labors, O ye weary traveler, and rest” thing, right? Maybe I am misremembering my Torah though, it has been a few decades since Hebrew.

I have been reading Edward Lee for the last few days. Now, if you don’t like gore-for-the-sake-of-it, nearly illegally pornographic, horror writers, maybe don’t click on that link. However, if you want to read wonderful books like Lucifer’s Lottery and Carnal Surgery, (for those that may ask, no, there are no affiliate links attached, I am not that kind of an asshole.) then I highly encourage you to read them. Despite the purposeful provocateur approach taken in the writing, the style is beautiful and if you happen to be a fan of philosophy, especially Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, he is your go-to horror writer.

A sweet kitten has just clued me into a thing dysphoric mania, or a mixed state. Think of it as being manic and depressed at once, which is pretty much hitting the nail on the head for where I am right now. I am exhausted and can’t sleep, I don’t want to do anything but sat and spent three hours organizing my Dropbox into a few dozen sub-folders this morning. I will be talking with people to see if I can get any assistance with this, but in the day and age of COVID, well, we will see what can be done.

Yeah, I think I am done now. I have all the thoughts to write all the things, but the energy to move the fingers is gone, so I guess that is what people would call a cue to disperse activities.

Be careful. Love One Another. Wear Your Masks. Stay The Fuck Home if you don’t have to go out. Flatten The Curve. Wash Your Hands. Socially Distance. Yes, I am very sick and very tired of saying this to the fucking imbeciles who need to hear me say it over and over again.

I am tired.

Goddess Love With All Of You, and, as always, until next time, I Bid You, Peace.

Pseudo-Intellectual, Post-Traumatic, Quarantined-Instilled, Ramblings

I will mention, but not complain, about the power going off twice yesterday. It is not like I was the only one affected by this and perhaps a little perspective on the situation would do me some good, no?

No, today I am going to talk about healing, a thing I am incredibly bad at, which, in my own little twisted logic loop, makes me the best person I know of to talk about it.

Physical healing is one thing, but maybe talking about the healing of other things is more pertinent to the discussion. We all have the physical scars from the time life has kicked us while we were down, but those scars remind us that we are, in fact, healed from those physical ills.

It is the deeper hurts, the hurts of the mind and the heart, that take the longest to heal if they can ever be healed at all that is. I am a firm believer in redemption, but there are things that can be done to you that can not be, should not be, forgiven. perhaps re-categorized as something other than what they are. I suppose it is the Viking in me that wants to make sure the grudges are never forgotten and that all markers are called in at the end of the day.

I will not retell the life story, I think that is counter-productive at this point. I will never forgive for some of the things that were done to me and, obviously as I am talking about them thirty-five years later, I can not forget them.

It is this, this memory wound, that I need to heal from.

…..This is not going the way it was supposed to go, so, in the nature of the Seeker learning from the Universe, let us follow this tangential thread as it winds its way to where it is supposed to go…..

Closing my eyes on the bad nights is as bad as being there all over again. Even as I write this, the sun in the sky and the Goddess above, I can feel the whisper of the tar-black darkness of it creeping along my psyche.

The dreams are not nearly as bad as they used to be. They are more images than actual remembrances and even those things that are clear as crystal are obviously behind the safety glass and my consciousness is well aware that they can no longer hurt me despite the vitriol still contained therein.

Safety glass. I have never looked at it like that. Like it is an exhibit at the zoo and I am safely behind that which will keep me safe and away from those things that would remove my face purely for the sake of having a thing to occupy their time as their brutal captors watch with a mere scientific interest in the phenomenon.

Or…

Am I the one trying to rip the face off of the innocent? I am the one struggling to break free of the cage I have been put in/put myself in so that three can be some semblance of a return to what that part of me would call order? I am guessing being controlled by the Id is probably not the most optimal situation on the best of the days.

Now that I have your full confusion and attention, maybe I can try to get back to the point of what I wanted to say, which was sometimes we have to look outside of the normal zones of comfort to see where we can find that which will heal us from the hurts that we are so inflicted with. From the medicines of countries that are not ours to things a little farther afield than that.

Food for thought.

So, remember this, all of you.

Epstein didn’t kill Himself, Science will always top Fear, Black Lives Matter, Pride is more beautiful than Hate, Wash your Hands, Socially Distance, and wear your fucking masks.

Until next time, as always my beloved Gentle Readers, as always, I bid you peace.

Lessons From A Quarantined Bear Who Is Tired Of Buffonery.

Let’s go ahead and mark yesterday off as a bad day and go ahead and start fresh, m’kay?

Thanks.

As much as I would love to go into a political tirade this morning, I simply, truly, do not have the energy. So, instead I will stay a little more in my lane and talk about the stupidity of those who seem to think that they know things that others don’t, that they are better than experts because they saw a thing on Facebook, and of course those who received their doctorates and degrees from the divine and all-knowing Google University.

I am a mere human. I know that I am wrong. I know there are people even within my own peer group, yeah, I’m talking about you two, that are a thousandfold smarter than I can ever hope to become. Not because I am stupid, I am not by any means, I just know where the end of my knowledge lays and where the expertise of others is better to listen to than the three minutes of Google-Fu I may have engaged in previous to knowing that I should stop and talk to people who know things. I have made errors, oh so many, but I tend to leave things like science, space, money, and math to people who got out of 9th-grade math and weren’t banned from taking Chemistry to do their extra-curricular proclivities.

So, in the day and age of COVID-19, when the President of the United States gets to be the example of the way not to do things, I go ahead and I listen REALLY close to the scientists in my life. When, and ONLY WHEN, they tell me that the odds of me getting myself, Terry, my babies or anyone else killed is at least reduced to pre-COVID levels, y’all can go ahead and shove your in-person invites up your ass and I will proselytize the good word that is Quarantine.

No, it is not a time to “use your personal judgment” when it comes to attending anything larger than dinner at your table at home. Why? Well, the fact that you had to ask is a problem in and of itself, but if I need to explain, which I apparently do, there is no such thing as “YOU” in the sense you are thinking of when it comes to a pandemic. I am all for bodily autonomy in all things, but fuck you if your “choice” ends up giving me and mine a potentially deadly disease to which there is no current reliable treatment or vaccine.

Is you going to a bar worth the lives of someone, of someone’s children, their parents? Where do you draw the line? How many people need to die before you see it as a bad thing?

Next. Apparently I have some energy.

For the next person who tells me that I am letting down my family and friends with my migraines and I need to get over myself, I want to share, graphically, which I did last night at three in the morning.

Skip this is if you know what a migraine is.

It didn’t feel right as it was, but when I stood up I knew I had about ten seconds to get to where I needed to be before I was going to do it anyway. Gratefully, my bedroom door is a single Bear-Step away from the bathroom and as I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet, with tears of pain streaming down my face, all I wanted to do was reach behind me onto the sink and find a way to make my left eye collapse so it would feel less like it was pushing out of my skull. This thought was interrupted by my nose bleeding into the vomit, what a pretty sight that was.

Resume reading if you know what a migraine is.

I don’t care if you believe me or not, I am far past thinking you may or may not think I am faking it, I am past caring if you have the desire or even the ability to empathize with another human being in unspeakable pain.

You don’t get to tell me I am failing my family. No, no you get to do nothing even remotely close to that and if you do it again, I am will tell everyone EXACTLY how you failed yours, David.

Next.

Do not get me wrong, if I was not feeling substantially better I would not be writing this. I can sit up, keep my eyes open, think, caffeinated, all without thus far getting nauseous or wanting to kill myself.

I like to call that a “morning”.

To end on a better note than what I apparently have been writing on I wanted to tell you all something.

See, for months and months now we have all been trapped to some degree or another in situations we do not want to be in. Kids home from school, loss of work, even just being unable to leave the house. However, I need to tell you that this is so far away from over. We need to be diligent and do what doctors say, not what a reality television show host who is addicted to Adderall says.

Now, wear your masks, socially distance, wash your hands and, as always, until next time, I bid you peace.

Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day.

That’s all this is, see. Eventually, some fucking assclown will think to himself that the leading epidemiologists, virologists, and scientists of all stripes are not part of a global cabal dedicated to denying Karen’s haircuts, Chad’s fucking bar time or, believe it or not, little Johnny’s ability to go and be mean to everyone in the neighborhood like a boorish jackanapes.

They will see that racism and xenophobia are precisely the opposite of the American way and that yeah, Jefferson really did say the line about the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants, and that they are standing shoulder to shoulder with the ones who should be bled.

They will see that there is a logic in waiting, there is truth in distancing, there is power in unity.

Who am I kidding though?

These hateful and fearful things we must call our fellow man will do nothing other than what serves there best interest in that particular second. They will sell out the elderly because they already lived a better life. They will sell out the people of color because all they have to do is pull themselves up by their bootstraps and all lives matter. They will sell out the brothers, sisters, and non-binary loves of the LGBTQ+ community because apparently it is icky to love someone they don’t think you should love.

So as I sit here at a quarter to ten on a Wednesday morning that happens to be the first of July, I want to send a message to people who know me who may want to think that I am a sheep that follows the leader of the moment. They will call me some combination of liberal and the word retard. They will tell me I want to take their guns, or their religious freedoms, or that I want to have some apocalyptic catastrophe occur.

Listen.

Shut your fucking mouth. I will not listen to your bullshit.

I don’t want your guns. I like guns. I love to shoot. I am even a decent enough shot if I don’t have to use my left shoulder to stabilize. I will leave you to pray in your churches if you leave me to pray in my bedroom. You can speak in tongues and I will speak in Gaelic. I will not dignify the last with a retort as it is a matter of pure ignorance.

So, from now on, I am not going to unfollow you. No, I am going to actively attack you if you actively attack me. I believe in things like #BlackLivesMatter and #Pride and so many other wonderful and beautiful things that you seem to think are an abhorrent thing to the progress of America you are under the impression I live in.

So bring it. If there is anythign in this world I am good at, it is arguing.

For the rest of you, wear your masks, wash your fucking hands, and as always, until next time, I bid you peace.

Without Darkness There Can Be No Light

So, I am in a mood to rant and I wanted to bring up some classics, so, why don’t y’all grab a nice warm cup of coffee, or tea, or an iced whatever, and listen to the Bear get some of the poison out of himself so maybe, one day, he will be able to say all of it is gone and he is as normal as people who don’t carry resentment and gate with them like treasured possessions.

Plus, no names, y’all know who these people are, so why give them power by putting their names in things so they can go ahead and play the victim?

I suppose we have to talk about the one whose name actually came up like the gorge from a dying sycophantic whore this morning. She stole thousands of dollars, hundreds of hours of our time, and she even had the audacity to claim that I was taking her away from my children. Well. I mean, yes, when I tell you to GTFO, that is generally what I want you to do is to get away from me and mine.

Every time I saw you it towards the end I was always curious how your hand would end up in my wallet that day. I was with you for some of the things you needed money for, so I know that some of them were actually legitimate things. I di understand that. I have been rat fuck poor for the majority of my life, which is why I never hesitated, even when I KNEW you were lying to my face, to all of us, just to feed some ego trip you decided to go on to see how much you could get from the guy with the shattered heart and broken soul.

Thank You, Drive Thru, Next.

I could rant about you all the rest of my days and never get to the root of it all. I will talk about broken promises today though. How you swore you would never get back on it, over and over and over again. How you said you were done and it was a one-time thing. How you told me you would NEVER drive like that with him in the car. I mean I guess the big one was until Death Do Us Part, right? I mean, did you go a week before Wayne? yeah, yeah I know about Wayne at the Canal in the Buick. Which, by the way, sounds like such a banal and stereotypical fucking “she cheated on me story” as to be laughable. He told me by the way, a few days later. He told me and he was actually upset. I won’t speak ill of Wayne though, that man had a nightmare for a life and all you did was push him a little farther towards the end you and I both know he had. However, in the end, maybe he got the justice he deserved when you died and even now are sitting in a lake of your own filth somewhere begging everyone and anyone for everything and anything.

Pretty Sure That’s Enough, Isn’t It Darlin?

I have tried man. Almost forty damn years I have tried. I tried to be a Friend. I tried to be Brother. I tried to be the Dad. I tried to let you do all the things, I tried tough love, I tried a combination and I even went ahead and tried, well, where we are now. I was so happy when you met Kris and all of them, still am actually. This isn’t blood and water shit, no. No, I gave up on that old axiom years ago, we all did. You found your Family, I found my Tribe, the other one, well, misery is its own company.

I don’t wish you harm, illness, failure, or pain. Quite the opposite of all of them in fact. However, what I can promise you is that I will not do it all over again when it gets too hard for you and you need to quit. You still hate me for the decision I made when Thundercunt was here, and maybe I was wrong, but you need to pretend to understand that no matter my fault in it, you were wrong. You don’t treat a human-like that, never mind someone that the both of us, stupidly I’ll admit, loved. Like meat, like a…thing. I can’t ever let that go, not after what we grew up in, not after the nights when we would listen to the other scream, then you turn and you try to do that? In MY House?

No. Done.

Since I did the baby, I suppose it would scandalous of me not to talk about you now, wouldn’t it? The forced matriarchal figure of the wee little clan that we have now. All of them dead, all of the best parts of the name destroyed before we were even thoughts in drunken people’s minds. You have to go back to Ireland to find any one of them that is worthy of a wooden nickel. They at least knew how to love their children. I don’t blame what you have become completely on you however, no, this is definitely a case of nurture over nature. I remember you when you were sweet and kind. Remember when you were at Columbus and you were in that play and you were the storyteller? That is the best incarnation of you that I can bring to my heart.

That was during some of the worst of it, but you don’t believe that any of it did, and for that, I can never forgive you. I can not simply accept that you will deny my pain and her crimes simply because they are icky things that you are uncomfortable thinking about. I have wronged you, Goddess knows I have, but I have never taken your pain and simply tried to make it disappear, never.

I can’t anymore. I won’t.

Well, now I think it is my turn. Do you know the person writing this? Oh, I hate myself a thousand times more than I will ever hate any of these people. I hate that I was the teenager I was, I hate that it took me so long to talk about what my mother did, I hate that I fought with my wife and didn’t enjoy EVERY second with her. I hate that I am not a good father, I hate that I can be a shitty friend. I hate that I constantly need the affirmations of others to make myself seem less like the fucking loon I know I am.

I hate how I hurt you when you needed me most Bear. I walked away from you and instead of talking and doing, I did drugs, married a whore thrice over and destroyed the lives of others so I could not, would not, feel the soul-crushing agony of just being me.

Now, this is isn’t a suicide note, I will end with a bit of optimism.

I try.

Yes, yes I fail more often than I don’t, but some days I even manage two steps forward and one back so there is actual progress and not just me punching the same wall in Sisyphean idiocy until I am bloody and broken, vacillating between moods like a strobe light between on and off.

My Tribe holds me together, pushes me when I need it, screams at me when I need it, kicks me in the ass when I need it and I can never love them enough for all the things they have done, do still, and will most likely do in the near and far future.

See, happy endings.

Now, take a deep breath and, like me, cast all of this from your mind and remember that it is all just a day by day adventure.

Wear your masks, wash your hands, love one another, and, always, until next time, I bid you peace.