aloha again,
this is like a Tim Burton trip down memory lane.thanx Rampster...
MORAL DISABILITY @1980s
FRED comes to mind immediately.
a lil backstory here.i have read comic books/graphic novels since pre school and only gave up the habit when i could no longer afford it and housing.i have worked part time/off & on at comix stores in SF.now the people who work there are seldom hotties,usually fat basement dwelling comix trivia trolls of either sex but mostly males.then there was Fred, i forget her real name but it was something girly and bland which Fred was definitely not.now in the comix the ELEKTRA costume is lil more than scarves and red stretch bandages (unlike the movies) so Fred was an instant hit at comix convention with her dark curly hair,sexy lithe body and intense flinty gaze. now Fred was friendly enough as men drooled over and on her but there was an inner coldness about Fred.i think she had just dumped her BF and was looking to make some money.Iran was in the news then too as the Shah ahd fallen and refugees had come pouring into the US. so Fred hatched a plan by reading various newspaper ads from across the country,being a talented but starving artist she faked a series of legit looking IDs and went trolling.
as i rememeber it she went to half a dozen cities and married half a dozen men (no sex) for $5000 each, the men were all Iranians (Persians).now Fred came back and boasted to us,her co workers- as she had no friends,about how smart she was.i guess it was smart if you consider defrauding the Feds a great idea...then unfortunately Fred got greedy,she decided to blackmail her six 'husbands' for more money.like a permanent ATM right? WRONG! turns out the father of one of Fred's husbands was a member of SAVAK the Shah's ruthless and uber brutal secret police.Fred was informed that her body would never be found if she continued her greedy ways.
now Fred had NEVER USED HER REAL NAME Anywhere,so this sent chills down her pretty spine and we were instructed to call her anything else but her real name.i chose Fred and oddly enuff she liked it.so all was peaceful until one day Fred got a phone call at work then ran out like her hair was on fire never to be seen again.they mailed her last check to her parents.
SELF ESTEEM ISSUES @1970 NYC
she called herself MARILYN and she was blonde,busty,wearing wire rim glasses,sorta plain and broken.i met her at a commune forming meeting ( A NEW DAWN -sic) then later over a series of parties where 'getting to know each other' was the goal-several of us lost $600 each in this land & trust process.a lot of money in 1970 -sigh.
anyway i had my eye on the leggy feminist who would later leave me for the commune in SF not her.at a pot party in Brooklyn she was sitting with her shirt off (which some chose to do) exposing her large veiny breasts and asking if 'i liked her'. as opposed to what i asked? turns out Marilyn was homeless and was trading sex for a place to flop, she was being passed around the men like a soggy blonde joint. how sad. seems most of her life so far had been a variation on this theme .when this half hearted venture broke up Marilyn wound up in Brooklyn living with three other girls and a small sly pothead faux hippie guy who told her to 'earn her keep'.i went back to California....
there were no homeless services in those days except the Salavation Army and i have no idea if she sought help.
don't be like her,if you need help ASK!
DSIABILITY SNARK love da concept!!!
go see Midlife & Treachery plus Cat in a Dogs World Blogs,tasty with GOOD LINKS.
namaste
semper gumby
mega
Saturday, February 28, 2009
URBAN MYTHS
aloha,
i am crushed,crushed i tell you.(theatrics-Casablanca style)
Rampster (see his blog!) has accused me of plagarism with Bloody Mary (see his Comment).ah, the thanks i get for baring my soul? Rampster are you just playfully twisting my tale? tails?
no
I DID NOT STEAL THE TALE FROM SNOPES OR THE URBAN LEGENDS TV SHOW.
it actually happened to me. i was trying to explain the context of Nasty J et al with nude therapy and whatever.her name wasn't really Bloody Mary,maybe that's confusing to some but calling her Fred (another tale ) or Lil Big Tits (biker's girl) didn't have the same allure.
the thing about REALITY (sic) is that it doesn't have to be within the boundaries of belief.short example (non fiction) i met a woman in 1970s NYC at Central Park who had a horrific tale to tell.she had been thrown out of a hotel window,where she'd been whoring, by an angry trick or pimp i forget.she had broken every major bone in her body while laying hours in the rain waiting for help, which eventually came.this woman delighted in showing off the scars from her reconstructive surgeries , yes this did involve getting naked and touching her rock hard implants.so anyway she wanted me to crew (i.e. have sex with) with her and her husband on their boat around the Carribean ( i was on their boat briefly in Long Island).
i said NO i was going back to California.she asked me to look up John Presmount (his real name) and say HI.
yeah right,23 million people in those days and the odds of finding this one man were ridiculous. so about a year later my current leggy GF decided to join a commune,i visited to snoop around and found a pamphlet listing the history of the group ,rules and its past incarnations plus the real names of the founders...John Presmount being one of them.i delivered the message so they all thot i was some kind of spy or mind raper,whatever.me and my leggy GF split then she split from them (old Arab Proverb "a dissatisfied woman demands toasted snow". amen) and i saw her later looking haggard in the Haight.no pleasure in that unfortunately.
you would not accept this in a Tom Hanks or Sandra Bollock romantic comedy BUT IT HAPPENED TO ME.
trust me, i do not have to make up crap to fill this blog, i still have tales i think the statue of limitations has run out on...
whatever.
namaste
semper grumpy
mega
i am crushed,crushed i tell you.(theatrics-Casablanca style)
Rampster (see his blog!) has accused me of plagarism with Bloody Mary (see his Comment).ah, the thanks i get for baring my soul? Rampster are you just playfully twisting my tale? tails?
no
I DID NOT STEAL THE TALE FROM SNOPES OR THE URBAN LEGENDS TV SHOW.
it actually happened to me. i was trying to explain the context of Nasty J et al with nude therapy and whatever.her name wasn't really Bloody Mary,maybe that's confusing to some but calling her Fred (another tale ) or Lil Big Tits (biker's girl) didn't have the same allure.
the thing about REALITY (sic) is that it doesn't have to be within the boundaries of belief.short example (non fiction) i met a woman in 1970s NYC at Central Park who had a horrific tale to tell.she had been thrown out of a hotel window,where she'd been whoring, by an angry trick or pimp i forget.she had broken every major bone in her body while laying hours in the rain waiting for help, which eventually came.this woman delighted in showing off the scars from her reconstructive surgeries , yes this did involve getting naked and touching her rock hard implants.so anyway she wanted me to crew (i.e. have sex with) with her and her husband on their boat around the Carribean ( i was on their boat briefly in Long Island).
i said NO i was going back to California.she asked me to look up John Presmount (his real name) and say HI.
yeah right,23 million people in those days and the odds of finding this one man were ridiculous. so about a year later my current leggy GF decided to join a commune,i visited to snoop around and found a pamphlet listing the history of the group ,rules and its past incarnations plus the real names of the founders...John Presmount being one of them.i delivered the message so they all thot i was some kind of spy or mind raper,whatever.me and my leggy GF split then she split from them (old Arab Proverb "a dissatisfied woman demands toasted snow". amen) and i saw her later looking haggard in the Haight.no pleasure in that unfortunately.
you would not accept this in a Tom Hanks or Sandra Bollock romantic comedy BUT IT HAPPENED TO ME.
trust me, i do not have to make up crap to fill this blog, i still have tales i think the statue of limitations has run out on...
whatever.
namaste
semper grumpy
mega
Thursday, February 26, 2009
HURTS SO GOOD?
aloha,
doing my bit for BLACK HISTORY MONTH again.
BLOOD MARY 1968
when the Buick T boned the Corvair in LA i was moving with my cousin and her new ex con dyke GF.there was pain,jarring pain then chroinic pain etc etc.
one day i woke up find a strange naked busty white woman pythoned around me.now i always sleep naked and so was she.
i tried to remember if i ever had seen her before,no.
was i dreaming? no,i could feel her warm breath on my neck and her pubic fur on my thigh.so what gives?my cousin peeped in,waved and smiled then left.
long story short
she was the Mistress/punching bag GF/sex toy of a married local club owner.they were both from New Orleans so she was used to walking the streets barefoot,( literally not as a whore).Bloody Mary often walked the half mile from her place to ours naked except for fresh bruises and once all bloody from having her pierced earrings torn out violently.she never called the cops and she cried a lot.
i had learned in Harlem that some women,like my mother and her friends,always seem to be attracted to the kind of men they bitch about.Mary was one of those.she turned up in my bed once or twice a week, my furnished room had twins beds,so i soon got the idea that if i treated her in the manner expected she was all mine.
oh goody..i didn't.so my cousin's ex con GF found her a black dyke to slap her around and she was happy, i think. Mary and her new lover moved into the other twin bed until they got a place of their own.Mary continued to sleep and walk around naked which earned her a few slaps here and there.
my cousin and her ex con GF soon got heavily involved in THE CRIMINAL ELEMENT you hear so much about so i moved out after they stiffed me on their share of the rent three months running.
1990s
so that's Bloody Mary,after my divorce i worked with a curvy young woman who was a club crawler who told everyone she was dumping her new BF "cuz he treats me too good". go figure.
we are all affected by abuse in differing often bizarre patterns, it keeps life Interesting.
in other news,
i will try not to write anything else today.
i just got on to see by the Tagboard festure isn't working.no really.
semper grumpy
mega
doing my bit for BLACK HISTORY MONTH again.
BLOOD MARY 1968
when the Buick T boned the Corvair in LA i was moving with my cousin and her new ex con dyke GF.there was pain,jarring pain then chroinic pain etc etc.
one day i woke up find a strange naked busty white woman pythoned around me.now i always sleep naked and so was she.
i tried to remember if i ever had seen her before,no.
was i dreaming? no,i could feel her warm breath on my neck and her pubic fur on my thigh.so what gives?my cousin peeped in,waved and smiled then left.
long story short
she was the Mistress/punching bag GF/sex toy of a married local club owner.they were both from New Orleans so she was used to walking the streets barefoot,( literally not as a whore).Bloody Mary often walked the half mile from her place to ours naked except for fresh bruises and once all bloody from having her pierced earrings torn out violently.she never called the cops and she cried a lot.
i had learned in Harlem that some women,like my mother and her friends,always seem to be attracted to the kind of men they bitch about.Mary was one of those.she turned up in my bed once or twice a week, my furnished room had twins beds,so i soon got the idea that if i treated her in the manner expected she was all mine.
oh goody..i didn't.so my cousin's ex con GF found her a black dyke to slap her around and she was happy, i think. Mary and her new lover moved into the other twin bed until they got a place of their own.Mary continued to sleep and walk around naked which earned her a few slaps here and there.
my cousin and her ex con GF soon got heavily involved in THE CRIMINAL ELEMENT you hear so much about so i moved out after they stiffed me on their share of the rent three months running.
1990s
so that's Bloody Mary,after my divorce i worked with a curvy young woman who was a club crawler who told everyone she was dumping her new BF "cuz he treats me too good". go figure.
we are all affected by abuse in differing often bizarre patterns, it keeps life Interesting.
in other news,
i will try not to write anything else today.
i just got on to see by the Tagboard festure isn't working.no really.
semper grumpy
mega
SEPPEKU 2
aloha,me again.
a lil less dark this time,
there are boobs involved,promise.
SUICIDE 2
over the last 17 years me and Soul Mate have lost at least 3 friends that we Know committed suicide.they were all crips who had reached the end of their rope,we miss them.they were GOOD PEOPLE! momento mori.
Soul Mate has suggested the real reason i have not pulled the plug is CURIOSITY and ROMANCE. natural nosiness on the one hand and seeing the ruins of my own parents marriage lead me looking for the genuine alternative (ACA remember?)
when i stopped typing yesterday i recalled King Amfortas (sp?) from the Grail Mythos who had the vaguely described WOUND THAT WOULD NOT HEAL,some think it was an STD or gangrene,i think maybe it was Depression,PTSD or suicidal thots.Maybe huh?
LESBIAN NUDITY
completely off topic,
i told you about NASTY J & our nude talk therapy sessions (for balance there was a divorced older bisexual NICE J -AKA 'Normalwoman" who had the same birthday,when they met THEY HATED EACH OTHER.same birthday,same name,different peeps).
since i hit Californicatia lesbians have liked me. esp. the butchy/flannel dykes.
when i worked at the swank hotel where i met Korak The Killer and Andre my boss was a slender blonde lesbian dyke "EVE" who wore her shirt unbuttoned to the navel (no bra) under her loose uniform blazer,later she trained "STEVIE" to take her place,same shirt ettiquette (no bra).now the open shirt look is okay as long as you stand erect with shoulders back,the swank hotel waitresses showed slightly more skin.
now in hotels Housekeeping knows that Security is always staffed by loners,psychos,drunks and perverts (sex addicts) so whatever porn or weapons is left behind ends up in the Security office,some good stuff too.so i'd be flipping thru the latest Penthouse or glossy stroke zine and Eve and Stevie would come in to make comments leaning over my shoulder like 'i'd do her!' or 'i'd tap that!' now the first time it happened i thought it was accidental but the other times when pink nipples and entire breasts popped out and stayed out...
Eve was a large A cup or small B but Stevie was a generous pink nippled D cup easy.i knew they were both screwing with me and it was showing off sexual but basically platonic.now i am basically an ass & leg man but still this was jarring,a lil.
i had seen my then BFF Asian naked fresh from her shower and it was no biggie, we were all nude beach regulars in those days.still sunny everybody naked versus hot breath in both ears exposed in a tight space,you get the idea.so Eve quit and Stevie soon got fired,some of it for nipple exposure and dumbness.this preceded my wedding and nude reception with GriZelda and Nasty J then the nude therapy talks,just so you keep the timeline straight.i think this blog is my version of a Nasty J talk session,hmmmm...
ON OUR BACKS
ah, a crip tie in.
Nasty J had friends who created ON OUR BACKS a cutting edge (for the 80s)lesbian stroke and arts zine.Nasty J was in one of the naked 'dogpiles' photo sets and they were the first place i saw naked disabled lesbians as sex objects,now they have websites evoking CRIP PRIDE while showing 'the flag '(sic).have to ask my manhandler gay friends whether the beauty worshipping gays have adopted this yet? there are a few het websites devoted to Amputtee Porn,some real and some Photoshop (check out World Sex News if you're into that).different strokes???
(PAUSE TO THINK NAKEDLY SEXUAL THOTS- remind me to mention Bloody Mary sometimes okay?)
in other news,
still shifting thru what Obama's Stimulus Package (that does sound suggestive doesn't it?) means to crips , me & mine.
GOOGLE Marty Omoto or CDCAN to get the latest skinny,until the starveling economy kills his website anyway.
namaste
semper gumby
mega
a lil less dark this time,
there are boobs involved,promise.
SUICIDE 2
over the last 17 years me and Soul Mate have lost at least 3 friends that we Know committed suicide.they were all crips who had reached the end of their rope,we miss them.they were GOOD PEOPLE! momento mori.
Soul Mate has suggested the real reason i have not pulled the plug is CURIOSITY and ROMANCE. natural nosiness on the one hand and seeing the ruins of my own parents marriage lead me looking for the genuine alternative (ACA remember?)
when i stopped typing yesterday i recalled King Amfortas (sp?) from the Grail Mythos who had the vaguely described WOUND THAT WOULD NOT HEAL,some think it was an STD or gangrene,i think maybe it was Depression,PTSD or suicidal thots.Maybe huh?
LESBIAN NUDITY
completely off topic,
i told you about NASTY J & our nude talk therapy sessions (for balance there was a divorced older bisexual NICE J -AKA 'Normalwoman" who had the same birthday,when they met THEY HATED EACH OTHER.same birthday,same name,different peeps).
since i hit Californicatia lesbians have liked me. esp. the butchy/flannel dykes.
when i worked at the swank hotel where i met Korak The Killer and Andre my boss was a slender blonde lesbian dyke "EVE" who wore her shirt unbuttoned to the navel (no bra) under her loose uniform blazer,later she trained "STEVIE" to take her place,same shirt ettiquette (no bra).now the open shirt look is okay as long as you stand erect with shoulders back,the swank hotel waitresses showed slightly more skin.
now in hotels Housekeeping knows that Security is always staffed by loners,psychos,drunks and perverts (sex addicts) so whatever porn or weapons is left behind ends up in the Security office,some good stuff too.so i'd be flipping thru the latest Penthouse or glossy stroke zine and Eve and Stevie would come in to make comments leaning over my shoulder like 'i'd do her!' or 'i'd tap that!' now the first time it happened i thought it was accidental but the other times when pink nipples and entire breasts popped out and stayed out...
Eve was a large A cup or small B but Stevie was a generous pink nippled D cup easy.i knew they were both screwing with me and it was showing off sexual but basically platonic.now i am basically an ass & leg man but still this was jarring,a lil.
i had seen my then BFF Asian naked fresh from her shower and it was no biggie, we were all nude beach regulars in those days.still sunny everybody naked versus hot breath in both ears exposed in a tight space,you get the idea.so Eve quit and Stevie soon got fired,some of it for nipple exposure and dumbness.this preceded my wedding and nude reception with GriZelda and Nasty J then the nude therapy talks,just so you keep the timeline straight.i think this blog is my version of a Nasty J talk session,hmmmm...
ON OUR BACKS
ah, a crip tie in.
Nasty J had friends who created ON OUR BACKS a cutting edge (for the 80s)lesbian stroke and arts zine.Nasty J was in one of the naked 'dogpiles' photo sets and they were the first place i saw naked disabled lesbians as sex objects,now they have websites evoking CRIP PRIDE while showing 'the flag '(sic).have to ask my manhandler gay friends whether the beauty worshipping gays have adopted this yet? there are a few het websites devoted to Amputtee Porn,some real and some Photoshop (check out World Sex News if you're into that).different strokes???
(PAUSE TO THINK NAKEDLY SEXUAL THOTS- remind me to mention Bloody Mary sometimes okay?)
in other news,
still shifting thru what Obama's Stimulus Package (that does sound suggestive doesn't it?) means to crips , me & mine.
GOOGLE Marty Omoto or CDCAN to get the latest skinny,until the starveling economy kills his website anyway.
namaste
semper gumby
mega
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
SUICIDE IS PAINLESS?
aloha,
one of the consequences of Depression (and PTSD) is suicide.
it is not always logical but it is true.
once i had left my mother's poisoned nest and was living on my own in LA (after the traffic accident but b4 LSD) i became deeply depressed.here's an LSD related analogy,it's about 3 or 4 ayem, you're not sure which-sometimes you wonder if Time has even been invented yet, you're on a dark deserted subway platform,almost alone.waiting for a train (or Godot?) creatures which may or may not be human lurk in the shadows.if you're lucky they're the harmless homeless or hopped up hypes,if you're not they're vicious muggers or predators looking for the weak...this goes on for several eternities then a train comes.
in Depression the train never comes, the sun never shines and all hope is lost forever...
as a child i lived on the twelfth floor of the Abraham Lincoln Projects in Harlem,i often thot about leaping from my bedroom window to my death.unlucky or stupid people were routinely murdered by being thrown off rooftops,since we were all black the local cops always wrote it off as sucide.so yes,people did get away with murder,routinely.
somehow i didn't leap.
i thot things would improve once i got to LA but as they say in the movie Buckeroo Banzai "no matter where you go,there you are" or,as i have boiled it down over these years "it is what it is".
i was deeply suicidal, i thot of walking in front of a bus or car blasting thru a red light.i thot about it more than sex and chocolate Combined,which should astound those who know me.
i used to go to the Love Ins at Griffith Park to watch half naked hippie girls dancing,it was free beyond the bus fare.one day on the grass i found a book STEPPENWOLF by Herman Hesse (made into a decent movie with Max Von Sydow i think) about a man planning to committ suicide on his birthday-I LOVED IT! spoiler alert! it has a Happy Ending.(damn).
after I'd read and re read the book another book appeared on the grass for me (no no not on The Grassy Knoll) ZEN FLESH,ZEN BONES by Paul Reps,at least it had a murky indeterminate ending.then i found LSD and started living and feeling less sorry for myself, this worked quite well (despite chronic back pain) until my back blew up in 1993.
Vicodin did nothing for me (sorry Dr.House) and i was SO DEPRESSED I STARTED WATCHING BASEBALL REGULARLY.
now i was very conflicted,
i had divorced GriZelda ("I don't want to be Happy!" besides she'd already found my replacement) about two years before this and met my Soul Mate (after much futile searching and newspaper ads) a year previous, so i was sure i'd finally met THE LOVE OF MY LIFE (other than my kids and the good parts of GriZelda) and i had very detailed plans about taking my truck down to the beach at sunset,taking an overdose,taping a plastic bag over my head and handcuffing my wrists to the steering wheel (can't be too careful right?)-with a very visible note of course.i didn't want Soul Mate to think any of this was her fault,her life had been hard enuff already.
this plan kept me going for day to day. one day Soul Mate told me half naked women were belly dancing, for free, two blocks away and when i refused to leave my dead end baseball game,she knew i was in trouble...turns out i was dying of Liver Failure (from the Vicodin) and the chiropractor she found,(Erda a wonderful fat dyke with brain tumors who loved me,it's mutual) thot i'd be dead in less than the two weeks it took things to turn around,but i had something to live for (see above).Soul Mate also found me peer counseling groups concerned with death,dying and chronic pain where i met heroic women like Jackie and Juliette (both since deceased).
years later i was suicidal again when we lived in Mendocino County,i typed my weird ass stories on my garage PC with an unloaded gun on my actual desktop.
'self liberation' is what the pro suicide elements call it (i've been a member of the Hemlock society since the 70s,bout the same time i joined the Universal Life Church-i am a Reverend in it still), most times i agree.
suicide is like one of those funguses that doctors can't cure, that sounds too flippant but that's all i got today.constant applications of hope,joy,faith,beauty and discipline.that and be Very Very Honest with yourself,writing a journal and having great gay friends works for me (thanks G Man & Kev and my dearly beloved dead buddies).
in other news,
my oldest son has a birthday tomorrow YEA Z MAN,
his mother's is the day after Yea GriZelda.
check out the Blog about Midlife Treachery when you have a moment.okay?
note; love the song but never watched the series MASH.
namaste
semper grumpy
mega
one of the consequences of Depression (and PTSD) is suicide.
it is not always logical but it is true.
once i had left my mother's poisoned nest and was living on my own in LA (after the traffic accident but b4 LSD) i became deeply depressed.here's an LSD related analogy,it's about 3 or 4 ayem, you're not sure which-sometimes you wonder if Time has even been invented yet, you're on a dark deserted subway platform,almost alone.waiting for a train (or Godot?) creatures which may or may not be human lurk in the shadows.if you're lucky they're the harmless homeless or hopped up hypes,if you're not they're vicious muggers or predators looking for the weak...this goes on for several eternities then a train comes.
in Depression the train never comes, the sun never shines and all hope is lost forever...
as a child i lived on the twelfth floor of the Abraham Lincoln Projects in Harlem,i often thot about leaping from my bedroom window to my death.unlucky or stupid people were routinely murdered by being thrown off rooftops,since we were all black the local cops always wrote it off as sucide.so yes,people did get away with murder,routinely.
somehow i didn't leap.
i thot things would improve once i got to LA but as they say in the movie Buckeroo Banzai "no matter where you go,there you are" or,as i have boiled it down over these years "it is what it is".
i was deeply suicidal, i thot of walking in front of a bus or car blasting thru a red light.i thot about it more than sex and chocolate Combined,which should astound those who know me.
i used to go to the Love Ins at Griffith Park to watch half naked hippie girls dancing,it was free beyond the bus fare.one day on the grass i found a book STEPPENWOLF by Herman Hesse (made into a decent movie with Max Von Sydow i think) about a man planning to committ suicide on his birthday-I LOVED IT! spoiler alert! it has a Happy Ending.(damn).
after I'd read and re read the book another book appeared on the grass for me (no no not on The Grassy Knoll) ZEN FLESH,ZEN BONES by Paul Reps,at least it had a murky indeterminate ending.then i found LSD and started living and feeling less sorry for myself, this worked quite well (despite chronic back pain) until my back blew up in 1993.
Vicodin did nothing for me (sorry Dr.House) and i was SO DEPRESSED I STARTED WATCHING BASEBALL REGULARLY.
now i was very conflicted,
i had divorced GriZelda ("I don't want to be Happy!" besides she'd already found my replacement) about two years before this and met my Soul Mate (after much futile searching and newspaper ads) a year previous, so i was sure i'd finally met THE LOVE OF MY LIFE (other than my kids and the good parts of GriZelda) and i had very detailed plans about taking my truck down to the beach at sunset,taking an overdose,taping a plastic bag over my head and handcuffing my wrists to the steering wheel (can't be too careful right?)-with a very visible note of course.i didn't want Soul Mate to think any of this was her fault,her life had been hard enuff already.
this plan kept me going for day to day. one day Soul Mate told me half naked women were belly dancing, for free, two blocks away and when i refused to leave my dead end baseball game,she knew i was in trouble...turns out i was dying of Liver Failure (from the Vicodin) and the chiropractor she found,(Erda a wonderful fat dyke with brain tumors who loved me,it's mutual) thot i'd be dead in less than the two weeks it took things to turn around,but i had something to live for (see above).Soul Mate also found me peer counseling groups concerned with death,dying and chronic pain where i met heroic women like Jackie and Juliette (both since deceased).
years later i was suicidal again when we lived in Mendocino County,i typed my weird ass stories on my garage PC with an unloaded gun on my actual desktop.
'self liberation' is what the pro suicide elements call it (i've been a member of the Hemlock society since the 70s,bout the same time i joined the Universal Life Church-i am a Reverend in it still), most times i agree.
suicide is like one of those funguses that doctors can't cure, that sounds too flippant but that's all i got today.constant applications of hope,joy,faith,beauty and discipline.that and be Very Very Honest with yourself,writing a journal and having great gay friends works for me (thanks G Man & Kev and my dearly beloved dead buddies).
in other news,
my oldest son has a birthday tomorrow YEA Z MAN,
his mother's is the day after Yea GriZelda.
check out the Blog about Midlife Treachery when you have a moment.okay?
note; love the song but never watched the series MASH.
namaste
semper grumpy
mega
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
PTSD POSTER BOY, NO IT'S NOT ME
aloha again,
i know i'm wearing out my welcome on this PTSD thing but it's still a brand new perspective to me.
maybe it'll help some vets family cope too???
WWII PLUS 35 YEARS
this will seem odd but it's too true to be fiction.i met Korak The Killer when i worked at a swank hotel,we were both security guards,there before us was..."ANDRE" about 55 and bulit like a short angry bowling ball.his parents were from The Old Country and Andre grew up bring fluent in both French and German and so when WWII rolled around he was in high demand on the front lines.i always wondered why Andre seems so pissed off at everything,he even called Korak "another pretty boy" (meaning a pussy) when they first met.you know those right wing jew baiting Holacaust Deniers? i think Andre badly hurt a couple of them in his rages.Andre was literally the first American to set foot in several Nazi Death Camps,his description makes it sound like opening a sizzling hot oven door to Hell.he never got over it. he had all the PTSD Symptoms BIG TIME-hypervigilance,alcoholism,rage,domestic violence,rapid and dangerous mood swings,paranoia etc etc etc.
plus he collected derringers and killing knives (oh my!), he and Korak bonded while discussing the best killing knives-a tie between the Brit Fairbourn Sykes (sp?) commando dagger and the ever popular Bowie knife.Andre was a miserable seething mess and he'd picked up fluent Japanese during the Occupation by marrying a native.i thot he could make a fortune as a translator or something for a multinational but now i see why he didn't...he and Korak both got fired 'for cause' and i quit nine years later.i saw him guarding some building near Japantown in SF months later and he shrugged off the firing,Korak later had several jobs where he abused people,women or power before debunking to the Great Northwest with a Japanese woman who owned a yacht (or so it was said).Korak left his wives,children and girlfriends behind.far as i know Andre is still with his first Japanese wife.
INSIDE OF FEAR
this is related,trust me on this.
i met a blonde commune hippie girl just after i started doing LSD in the late 60s,one of her friends had just done his first acid trip and was totally confused.'what did you see?' she asked.
the short version is he was inside a Tarot card,Judgement from the Major Arcana,wherein nude bodies in coffins rise up when the angel Gabriel (or whoever) blows his horn,his version had the coffins on a fast moving river heading for a waterfall, he was in a coffin which went over the falls then straight up to meet The Angel who told him IT IS INSIDE OF FEAR.he didn't get it.the rest of us acid heads nodded,we got it then walked off.
i have always advised people NEVER TO BLUFF A MANIAC,they can smell fear just like dogs do.i had dark rages when i was younger when i went out looking for somebody bigger and meaner to kick their ass,i never understood them (the foulness and anger). i have had jobs where i was armed,both legally and semi legally,whenever i threatened to ventilate someone's skull i always meant -it just like my Daddy taught me.
( i underscore here that i was NEVER A BULLY,if anything packing heat made me politer. as in 'is this petty sh*t worth killing this fool? NO.' not always true when i drove a taxi) despite Doc Holliday i never really thot of myself as A BAD ASS,i wasn't even in his league.but due to PTSD i had become genuinely (perhaps stupidly) fearless.FEARLESS with fast cars and weapons,everything except choosing the right partner. casual sex yes,sex with the faithless yes but A SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP????
i was not ready. i think it took having children after decades of meditation and soul searching to cure(?) that. i have been told that i have "a unique personality" but that's usually from people who like me.others quote the punchline to that old Jesus joke "everyone else just thinks you're an assh*le!"
in other news,
Judas could heal too.think about it.
scan the Blog Lists,some are really good.
semper grumpy
mega
i know i'm wearing out my welcome on this PTSD thing but it's still a brand new perspective to me.
maybe it'll help some vets family cope too???
WWII PLUS 35 YEARS
this will seem odd but it's too true to be fiction.i met Korak The Killer when i worked at a swank hotel,we were both security guards,there before us was..."ANDRE" about 55 and bulit like a short angry bowling ball.his parents were from The Old Country and Andre grew up bring fluent in both French and German and so when WWII rolled around he was in high demand on the front lines.i always wondered why Andre seems so pissed off at everything,he even called Korak "another pretty boy" (meaning a pussy) when they first met.you know those right wing jew baiting Holacaust Deniers? i think Andre badly hurt a couple of them in his rages.Andre was literally the first American to set foot in several Nazi Death Camps,his description makes it sound like opening a sizzling hot oven door to Hell.he never got over it. he had all the PTSD Symptoms BIG TIME-hypervigilance,alcoholism,rage,domestic violence,rapid and dangerous mood swings,paranoia etc etc etc.
plus he collected derringers and killing knives (oh my!), he and Korak bonded while discussing the best killing knives-a tie between the Brit Fairbourn Sykes (sp?) commando dagger and the ever popular Bowie knife.Andre was a miserable seething mess and he'd picked up fluent Japanese during the Occupation by marrying a native.i thot he could make a fortune as a translator or something for a multinational but now i see why he didn't...he and Korak both got fired 'for cause' and i quit nine years later.i saw him guarding some building near Japantown in SF months later and he shrugged off the firing,Korak later had several jobs where he abused people,women or power before debunking to the Great Northwest with a Japanese woman who owned a yacht (or so it was said).Korak left his wives,children and girlfriends behind.far as i know Andre is still with his first Japanese wife.
INSIDE OF FEAR
this is related,trust me on this.
i met a blonde commune hippie girl just after i started doing LSD in the late 60s,one of her friends had just done his first acid trip and was totally confused.'what did you see?' she asked.
the short version is he was inside a Tarot card,Judgement from the Major Arcana,wherein nude bodies in coffins rise up when the angel Gabriel (or whoever) blows his horn,his version had the coffins on a fast moving river heading for a waterfall, he was in a coffin which went over the falls then straight up to meet The Angel who told him IT IS INSIDE OF FEAR.he didn't get it.the rest of us acid heads nodded,we got it then walked off.
i have always advised people NEVER TO BLUFF A MANIAC,they can smell fear just like dogs do.i had dark rages when i was younger when i went out looking for somebody bigger and meaner to kick their ass,i never understood them (the foulness and anger). i have had jobs where i was armed,both legally and semi legally,whenever i threatened to ventilate someone's skull i always meant -it just like my Daddy taught me.
( i underscore here that i was NEVER A BULLY,if anything packing heat made me politer. as in 'is this petty sh*t worth killing this fool? NO.' not always true when i drove a taxi) despite Doc Holliday i never really thot of myself as A BAD ASS,i wasn't even in his league.but due to PTSD i had become genuinely (perhaps stupidly) fearless.FEARLESS with fast cars and weapons,everything except choosing the right partner. casual sex yes,sex with the faithless yes but A SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP????
i was not ready. i think it took having children after decades of meditation and soul searching to cure(?) that. i have been told that i have "a unique personality" but that's usually from people who like me.others quote the punchline to that old Jesus joke "everyone else just thinks you're an assh*le!"
in other news,
Judas could heal too.think about it.
scan the Blog Lists,some are really good.
semper grumpy
mega
Monday, February 23, 2009
PTSD AGAIN
hola,
NPR did another show on PTSD today,oh my.
i am torn about how to blog about this,
honestly as always but with or without the cheap laugh.
let's go for the cheap laugh then digress.
NASTY J ARMY GIRL 2
i married my Ex GriZelda at Muir Beach in Marin,it has easy access and is half nude and half textile.we wanted a nude wedding but most of our friends said they'd refuse to come so we compromised with a half anf half potluck reception (most of them didn't come anyway,screw ups).we were married in hand made (GriZelda) and self designed (by us) kimonos and costumes of authentic Japanese materials (Kasuri Dye Works of Berkeley which is no longer there,too bad a great place). several of my co workers were up for the nude reception part before we left for our brief honeymoon in Canada.
when we returned i went back to work with NASTY J (Army Girl 2) on the graveyard shift.now everybody knew Nasty J was screwed up but nobody knew why or how.well, after a very personal 'wedding gift' to me and GriZelda i came to know her a little better than most...
slight tangent,
in hard times a security guard job is golden because the building owners get a huge insurance break if warm bodies patrol the premises, the owners can make a profit and still pay the guard-bots well.
so we worked together and several nights in a row i'd come back to the home office after patrol and find Nasty J stark naked,i had no complaints and as a hard core S & M dyke i knew it wasn't a come on.(Nasty J carried a pink meter long thick dark green dildo named SIMBA in her knapsack everywhere she went).
like the shaman,first the symnbolic shedding of skin then the confessions...Nasty J had been in the Army rather than go to jail for attacking some guy who groped her.Nasty J had grown up in one of the worst porjects in SF and had been repeatedly beaten and humilated.
her mom was a single mom after her years long stint as a biker gang boy toy,Nasty J had no idea who her father might be.Nasty J slept 12 to 16 hours a day then came to work, she also drank heavily,had mood swings,depression et al.
she'd sit there crying,when she wasn't having sex with the other nude reception co worker,moaning about how hard and miserable her life was and how hard it was to 'find somebody'.well, first the all she scared the piss outta my EX GriZelda with her wild and mean streak then she was fond of handcuffing her new 'slaves' to the toilet for her roomies to find.she was a mess but she'd liked being in the army routine until she got a bad paper discharge for being herself.too much herself apparently. she eventually left for a better paying job...
notice how i mentioned shaman and symbolic shedding of skin? cute eh?
THE OLDEST PROFESSION?
hunter/gatherer of course then i think possibly shaman.
Neanderthals buried their dead with dignity,jewelry and care hundreds of thousands of years ago.Maslow (i think) had the Hierrchy of Needs and once the belly is full and fire keeps that hungry menace in the dark away humankind turns spiritutal.shaman (often disabled or different) became the gatekeepers to other realms and healing in this one (think midwives and herbalists too).off hand i cannot think of ANY human civilization which does not have a shamnic /healing element,can you?
i have a small postcard of Stonehenge on my desk next to my monitor (next to a happy Jesus,2 Batmans and the Joker toys)...that was leading somewhere,hmmm.
ah ANCIENT EGYPT and The Book of the Dead,like Babylon, ancient writing was full of spells and curses just as gypsies today still ply their trade in false faith.
FAITH is intangilbe but nonetheless real.tests have proven that water that has been prayed over is more beneficial to plants and people (holy water? holy cow!)
REALITY itself is more than the scientific jigsaw puzzle most people believe but people have jobs to go to,children to raise,adulteries to pursue,crimes to commit it is only when DISABILITY OR LOOMING DEATH ARRIVES THAT WE TAKE THE TIME OUT TO ACTUALLY OBSERVE OUR SURROUNDINGS.
TO BE,IN THE MOMENT,NOT MILES DOWN THE ROAD ATTEMPTING THE NEXT TASK.
BE-HERE-NOW!
Wake the F*** UP!
more from me later.
in other news;
don't forget to visit my friend 'rampster' who is less verbose than i.a good man and greater crip,non whiny, i like that.
semper grumpy
mega
NPR did another show on PTSD today,oh my.
i am torn about how to blog about this,
honestly as always but with or without the cheap laugh.
let's go for the cheap laugh then digress.
NASTY J ARMY GIRL 2
i married my Ex GriZelda at Muir Beach in Marin,it has easy access and is half nude and half textile.we wanted a nude wedding but most of our friends said they'd refuse to come so we compromised with a half anf half potluck reception (most of them didn't come anyway,screw ups).we were married in hand made (GriZelda) and self designed (by us) kimonos and costumes of authentic Japanese materials (Kasuri Dye Works of Berkeley which is no longer there,too bad a great place). several of my co workers were up for the nude reception part before we left for our brief honeymoon in Canada.
when we returned i went back to work with NASTY J (Army Girl 2) on the graveyard shift.now everybody knew Nasty J was screwed up but nobody knew why or how.well, after a very personal 'wedding gift' to me and GriZelda i came to know her a little better than most...
slight tangent,
in hard times a security guard job is golden because the building owners get a huge insurance break if warm bodies patrol the premises, the owners can make a profit and still pay the guard-bots well.
so we worked together and several nights in a row i'd come back to the home office after patrol and find Nasty J stark naked,i had no complaints and as a hard core S & M dyke i knew it wasn't a come on.(Nasty J carried a pink meter long thick dark green dildo named SIMBA in her knapsack everywhere she went).
like the shaman,first the symnbolic shedding of skin then the confessions...Nasty J had been in the Army rather than go to jail for attacking some guy who groped her.Nasty J had grown up in one of the worst porjects in SF and had been repeatedly beaten and humilated.
her mom was a single mom after her years long stint as a biker gang boy toy,Nasty J had no idea who her father might be.Nasty J slept 12 to 16 hours a day then came to work, she also drank heavily,had mood swings,depression et al.
she'd sit there crying,when she wasn't having sex with the other nude reception co worker,moaning about how hard and miserable her life was and how hard it was to 'find somebody'.well, first the all she scared the piss outta my EX GriZelda with her wild and mean streak then she was fond of handcuffing her new 'slaves' to the toilet for her roomies to find.she was a mess but she'd liked being in the army routine until she got a bad paper discharge for being herself.too much herself apparently. she eventually left for a better paying job...
notice how i mentioned shaman and symbolic shedding of skin? cute eh?
THE OLDEST PROFESSION?
hunter/gatherer of course then i think possibly shaman.
Neanderthals buried their dead with dignity,jewelry and care hundreds of thousands of years ago.Maslow (i think) had the Hierrchy of Needs and once the belly is full and fire keeps that hungry menace in the dark away humankind turns spiritutal.shaman (often disabled or different) became the gatekeepers to other realms and healing in this one (think midwives and herbalists too).off hand i cannot think of ANY human civilization which does not have a shamnic /healing element,can you?
i have a small postcard of Stonehenge on my desk next to my monitor (next to a happy Jesus,2 Batmans and the Joker toys)...that was leading somewhere,hmmm.
ah ANCIENT EGYPT and The Book of the Dead,like Babylon, ancient writing was full of spells and curses just as gypsies today still ply their trade in false faith.
FAITH is intangilbe but nonetheless real.tests have proven that water that has been prayed over is more beneficial to plants and people (holy water? holy cow!)
REALITY itself is more than the scientific jigsaw puzzle most people believe but people have jobs to go to,children to raise,adulteries to pursue,crimes to commit it is only when DISABILITY OR LOOMING DEATH ARRIVES THAT WE TAKE THE TIME OUT TO ACTUALLY OBSERVE OUR SURROUNDINGS.
TO BE,IN THE MOMENT,NOT MILES DOWN THE ROAD ATTEMPTING THE NEXT TASK.
BE-HERE-NOW!
Wake the F*** UP!
more from me later.
in other news;
don't forget to visit my friend 'rampster' who is less verbose than i.a good man and greater crip,non whiny, i like that.
semper grumpy
mega
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