Precursor

As sadness bred bitter hatred becoming sadness again,
those closest at heart saw the monster to be,
she, who with wine and forked tongue, devoured everything
meaningful and crystalline; both visible and unseen.
Lying bitch passed judgment, because holiness is as holiness
wishes it were in the dark, alone and drunk and awful.
And very vividly, a tearful end was coming quickly
that wasn't meant, but yet to be.

You altered everything by showing up
to that sunny room on a dark September afternoon
where foreign tongues fortified the ruins
of a towering structure destined for doom.
It was like burning the way something intangible
reached into the Air and left a strange mark
for all to see; a mystery of you and me and everything
that wasn't yet, but meant to be.

When Will We Be Invisible?

I was riding my motorcycle tonight, and I found myself staring at the fast-moving pavement flying by underneath me. It's the closest thing to flying without going to the fucking airport. I love it. In the next few days, I'm going to plan out a ride down the coast. I'm tentatively going to dedicate three, maybe four, days to the cause. The plan is to go by myself far from home with nobody there to tell me where to go or what to do. It's funny, because I'm twenty-five years old, and for some reason, I've not done a whole lot of things myself.

Yes, I've been pretty independent. But I've always had some hand on my shoulder guiding me or bossing me around. It's made me view myself as though I'm still some stupid kid who doesn't know shit about life, even though I've done and seen enough to last me a while. Paying bills, for instance. Lizzy always did that. I'd help, but it was all her... taking care of the paper work, mailing things out. She never trusted that I could do it, because, "You're just lousy at administrative things." And fine, I stepped back.

Traveling is another thing. France was supposed to be just me, and while I'm not disappointed in the slightest about the company I kept during those eight days, it was supposed to be a Dustin endeavor which wound up being diluted somehow. Madeline helped me do things, and for that, I'm grateful. I would have gotten it done, but the help was wonderful. I just wish I'd had things totally prepared for Madeline. Lizzy planned everything. She told me how things would be, and she was efficient. I actually really admired that in her, because she was so lazy about everything else. My role in vacations, though, was just providing the funds. Trips to California, Leavenworth, Oregon, Seattle, and the other places we went were all driven by her. The ride will be different. Not as epic, mind you, but mine. Alone.

I've been thinking a lot about how strangely alone I feel. It's weird. I used to have this sense of not-aloneness when I was a family man. But I was miserable, at least for the last couple years of that particular life. But even when I was miserable, I felt connected to something bigger than myself. Something that promised companionship and solidarity. Now, I'm happier than I've been in years, but the trade-off was I now feel by myself. I think this mostly applies to my role as a father. As a lover, I feel pretty good. Not alone. Not anymore. Madeline is amazing. But as a parent, I feel kind of inadequate.

Sometimes, I feel efficient. On top of shit. Other times, I wonder why Skylarr should even listen to me.

I like to make him "pretty dishes". That's what he calls them. I neatly arrange his food on his plate for him. Slice things up semi-fancily. Line things up. Make faces with fruit. Colors. Variety. He loves it. I think he'll remember that.

I've got to move. I absolutely can't right now, given my financial distress, but soon. I need to be the king of a castle again. It's hard going from that to where I am now. I'm just another kid. At least, that's how I feel. I guess, to be more accurate, I'm like an independent contractor. I don't know. I'm not even sure what I mean by that.

I need to sleep, but I should say that today has been a great day. I love spending time with Skylarr so much. We played catch with a baseball for the first time today. I made him a "pretty dish" with a sliced up peanut butter and jelly sandwich with strawberries and whipped cream throughout. He loved it.

Well, off to bed. Here's to a wonderful tomorrow.

Listen I Can't Make, Make A Sound or Feel...

I have two other blog pages. One is another blogspot page. I don't know how to log onto it anymore. The other is my livejournal page. I've had that for many years now, but there are too many people who know of it. This page is mine alone. And I like that. I will probably tell Madeline about it eventually. And Grace. Maybe Zeke. Nobody else, though. For now, though, it's just me and me.

I'm so tired. It's hard for me to convey what life feels like right now. Don't get me wrong, I'm happier than I've been in years, but it cost me a lot to get here. I don't think any of my friends completely understand what that means. Some have a better idea than others, but you have to walk through this kind of fire to truly speak of it, and I regret to say that I can speak of it with the best of 'em. I'm actually glad my friends don't know the fullness of this hurt. I know that I have friends who have been through things to which I cannot relate, and I'm thankful for that. My job was to be there to lend a listening ear or a shoulder on which to cry. They've all done it for me. And I hope I've been man enough to help them.

I've got this pain inside of me. I can't pinpoint it exactly. It's an old pain. A dead pain, still lingering. Like a haunting. Something stalking about the halls of my mind that, by all means, shouldn't be there. I think I know what the source is. Maybe. It's not actually pain. It's unresolved issues.

I like things wrapped up in neat packages. It's how I am. So very "Type A". When things lose their symmetry, I get dark. And right now, I've got a whole mess of unresolved, loose ties in my life. I want to fix these things, but it's not up to me. Why does it seem that for the healing process to be finished, all offending parties must act? It's like that in psychology. In relationships. In politics. In a lot of things.

Lizzy's been pleasant to me. It's kind of disgusting how forced it is for her to act civil. But I'll take what I can get. No need to repeat last Summer and Fall only to be reminded that sometimes fake pleasantries are better than veritable hatred. Ah, whatever. I don't want to think about her. On one had, she is my son's mother, and I will always reserve a special place in my heart for her in that regard. But as a human being, she is a failure.

Wasn't it only a couple months ago that she wrote up to a judge that I was having my mom raise Skylarr? Wasn't it around that same time that she was cussing me out and hanging up on me whenever I tried to talk to her about Skylarr? Isn't this the same woman who told me that it was okay for her to fall in love with another man while we were still married, but that I was a dick for getting a girlfriend months and months later?

Now, things are wrapping up with her. The divorce is almost final. I know that Madeline will sigh when that is over. Poor Madeline. I feel sorry for her sometimes that she didn't know me when I was full of hope and when I was sharper with my intellect and not so run-down. She's really getting jipped being with me. Here is this amazing, talented, sexy, smart young girl, and instead of getting with someone her own age, some hot girl or guy, she's with me. She loves me so much, and I can feel it without question. She doesn't even have to tell me. With Lizzy, I needed her to tell me, because I never knew from day to day if she loved me or not.

I hope Madeline feels loved. I hope she knows that my past and our future together are two different things. I feel stronger now than ever. I'm a better man, a better father, and I want to be a better lover. For her.

I'm sleepy. Rant over.