mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

Tag: Marriage

Not all scars fade except to turn to dust

I’m bothered by my shortcomings b/c I didnt used to be
able to see them & still cant see the shortcomings of others well.
——Jesus was wrong. The heart & eye cant sin as limbs do.
Not all stepped-in dog shit clings to yr boot.
——It’s important to remember your pain doesnt hurt anyone else.
Regret is just noticing you’ve traveled downstream.
——I can see the antenna from my house.
Most people just go where the tailwinds push.
Head winds should be trivial, but they’re explanatory.
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SATAN SLEEPS IN MY BRAIN

Paying to sleep & maybe dream.
––Each tryst different, varied, but
––never in substance of rapture,
––only wavelength.
It’s brite sunny greeny happiness.
––If I could read a book until required
––bother with others, how joyful
––I would be.
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It’s OK. I know it is

I’m in a relationship. I have been for coming up on two years, and it’s been healthy & amazing & surprising in oh so many ways.

I have fun, certainly. I love her, and she loves me. She takes care of me & makes me happy. What else is there or could be?

But I cant commit.

It’s the stupidest fucking thing, too. I can always say, ‘Three months from now, it’ll all be over.’ And that makes everything OK. But six months more of anything is abominable.

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Everything the same still is different.

Lost, groping, throwing myself of anyone’s stupid pity to
tell me where is best to go, & when.
——Drinking too much before first flight with US Army
——soldier & infantryman Stephen Hawkins, uniformed & flying to
——Dallas to meet his fiance & family for the holidays tho she is
——newly pregnant & he is newly stationed at Fort Lewis & turned
——on to Candy Crush-ish games by that fiance.
Mother of boy, now engaged to his father, sits with us. She, too, lived in
sin. Her religious parents also will need to get used to it.
——Soldier buys Jagerbombs after Guinness  not available for Irish car bombs.
—— I buy us Maker’s on the rocks to feel less an asshole, but he’s on four
——hours drunk at not yet 1 PM. The bar has been high set.

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Marriage is a desire to do life with someone else.

——To wish things arent as they are
——is a useless & unfulfilling thing.
He is 14 & precocious, so it’s cute.
But his sister is not precocious & what
she does in front of him is not so cute.
——The best of the young fathers has no
——children but has uncled three generations.
I have a perverse sense of obligation when
it comes to stated contract.

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Humanity is a perversely well-beloved pustule

——I like the ones who just say, ‘OK.’
Remember being just tall enough to touch things, finally?
——I dont think I’m jealous. It’s just the delay.

The junkie with dark skin & bright eyes & all else is still alive in there.
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Every leaf withers, some still upon the tree

I understand dance music, it’s almost spiritual ability to lift you
up & make you feel transcendent, in the youthful moment, the energy,
the whatever. But not dance itself. The compulsion isnt in me.
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May 2012: I’ve never had enough yet.

‘Darling, I have not caught whiff of your perfume or sight of your direct self in three weeks. I would enjoy a real conversation with mutually smiling teeth. Your friend can be in town, even that kind of friend, and it changes not my yen. But I desire the luxury of your proximity as like to turn me mad. ‘

It did not work of course but I was more satisfied in my words than she’d have made me.

(Said the fox too short to reach tall grapes.) Read the rest of this entry »

My life, my love/I saw you were getting married

My life, my love

I met you at Wal-Mart and found you buying bras. You were embarrassed, but you shouldn’t have been. I was drunk, but I shouldn’t have been. I recognized you, but only barely, and said hello, and loved you as you once loved me.

You filled my dreams with thoughts of yore, with memories of times lost to time, of memories that never happened. I blame you (I must, you know) but I love you more now for it than I ever did then.

We should have been together, should be together, but you have two kids, darling, lovely thing, and you won’t be with me now, if you ever would have. So I’m stuck in my mind, in my dreams, sleeping and thinking of you and the things that spring forth from your associations. Ho ho! How terrible, nostalgia.

I’d trade it for nothing, though, I think, my sweet Allison.

I saw you were getting married

Oh my darling (oh darling who could have, should have, still might have been my darling). You, you don’t know who you are, but I do (and he does, but if he says anything of it, I’ll take his body out of town and dump it in that ditch) are finally getting married. So salutations and congratulations on this marvelous occasion. You whore.

Getting married at our age? You’re pregnant, aren’t you? I bet so you nasty cunt, got knocked up and then decided to put a ring on your finger. YOU AREN’T FOOLING ANYONE. Least of all me.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t think of it so much as LOSING an old crush as GAINING a mortal enemy. Your new husband is a fucking faggot piece of shit, and one day he won’t come home. He’ll have run off (you’ll think) and then I’ll be there to console you and make everything OK.

Ah, already I miss your tiny mouth (it was so small, I can’t believe it even now). You were so short, but your breasts were enormous. You talked of getting breast reduction surgery for your back’s sake, and I pleaded with you not to do it, for mankind’s sake. Just stay on your back where you belonged and they wouldn’t give you any problems, I said. (AND YOU LAUGHED! My God, what kind of woman were you?)

You lost so much weight during that one year of junior high school (that must be where your breasts came from). I wonder if you ever gained it back? The last I saw you (was it four years ago, between the buildings at old OC?) you still hadn’t, were still so pretty, were still so nice. I choose to remember you like this, regardless, like this or something before. I should have said yes to the dance. Alas, such a cute lass you were.

Whatever. I wish you well, is the point of all this. I really do wish you well. You always seemed a genuinely nice person, deserving happiness when so few of us do. I didn’t know you then, not really, and I’m sure less now, but for a time you liked me, and for that, I’ll always love you, in the fond, nostalgic way I love anything I love. Sweet and artificial, but I hope the love you have is real, your wedding of joy and not necessity, or even if so, something grows so that your adult life is a happy one. I’m sure his will be as long as he’s with you.

From far away, floating and remote, I care. But I don’t want anything to do with you, your life, especially not now. Still, I’d like to hear later that things are well with you, because that helps keep me well, in the vicarious way that always satisfies.