Sixty-One

I missed you today. I know that sounds pedestrian and trite, but if you saw the way you woke up, me missing you would seem unbelievable. You told me you didn't sleep. You called me a time thief. You hung up on me when I teased. And you know what I did? When you were sassing me I studied your lips--they were smooth and sweet, slightly wet and parted. When you hung up on me I admired the quickness in your stroke, your determination, and your force. You can't scare me away, I'm big, and I'm a perfect being.

Day Sixty

Sixty days of staying in touch, sharing too much, being in love. I've been true, oh, how I've feed off you, and all the light that still shines through your touch.

Day Fifty-Nine

It's okay to state a need. Just don't expect others to meet it, or respect it. I need help...silence...I need help...silence...Please, I'm already stressed, can you help me...silence...

Day Fifty-Eight

The ocean is getting warmer, the sun closer to the roof of the building I live in. When I got home I opened the windows and the stale air of the room sucked in the sunlight. I waited, let it inhale a great breath, and then I shut the curtains--thick, satiny cloth, that held the wind inside. I made my bed, and burrowed in to the sheets that were laid out in the now dark room. I love the summer, the way it bangs on the window begging for attention.

Day Fifty-Seven

A kiss on the cheek...I'm heading to the desert.....I'll call later?

Day Fifty-Six

I'm giving you a kiss goodbye this morning or, a kiss hello after a long night of being away. You can look at it however you want, but then, you already knew that didn't you. I neglected you yesterday and that's no way to keep a relationship alive and healthy. You're important to me and I'm...what? Did you just say, 'If you were so important to me I wouldn't have neglected you?' hmmm, can we just move on?

Day Fifty-Five

I was asleep and needed to be woken to write this. Was it worth it? As far as literary merit is concerned probably not, but for disciplines sake, of course. 55 days of laying it down--short or long, poor or strong, I've stayed true. You know, I've been in many relationships where I wasn't as dedicated, or as faithful, as I've been to this blog.

Day Fifty-Three

They came at night and moved the furniture. I woke up with my head underneath the T.V. and my legs on the sofa. When I got up to use the toilet I went down--legs over head, chin into carpet, pee into air. A footstool, a fucking footstool left in the hallway.

Day Fifty-Two

Is this what 'better' is--being told it's "None of your fucking business," and "Can you move your leg away from mine?" I'm not cut out of the victim cloth. I don't like it, and life is too short, to spend it being disliked--especially from those closest to you.

Day Fifty-One

Is it a good thing that I know the difference between 'abusive,' and 'non-abusive'? There is a fine line you know. Let me give you an example:

Statement one:

I miss my family.

Statement two:

I want to go home, permanently.

Neither one of these seems abusive, however, if you are in a committed long-term relationship, one of these is hurtful, controlling, and well...abusive, and the other is reasonable, rational, and expressive. When we're away from our loved ones it's natural to miss them and we can deal with these feelings by sharing them with our partner. Open communication is desired and respected in a healthy relationship. Telling your partner that you want to leave, and permanently stay away, when you don't mean it, is threatening and destroys trust.

Day Fifty

Reno...enough said.

Day Forty-Nine

"If you're going to be a piece of shit, you might as well be a big one." I hurt my girl last night and now I'm up at 4:00 am sick to my stomach. I got carried away and couldn't calm down--my head stuck on something that wasn't a big deal. She asked me to stop, and I wouldn't, or couldn't at the time. It wasn't violent, it was just mean, and I have some fucking nerve making a woman that loves me as much as she does cry.

Day Forty-Eight

I'm tired, and I don't have the discipline to keep working when I'd rather sleep. I'm almost done, the outline sketched in my brain, my fingers are doing their best to paint within the lines, but, you know how I get. you don't? Well let me tell you...I'm even too lazy to finish this sentanc

Day Forty-Seven

If you were looking at photographs, I could lay out ten of myself, and you would think that the images of ten brothers lay before you. This one is sad, and if you place the happy one next to the angry one, you can really see the resemblance, but only in the eyes. None of these looks like the same man. "But I've seen lots of pictures of you Jack, and they do all look alike."

"No, you've seen lots of pictures of that guy, but some of the other boys have only let their image be caught once, and that was enough."

Day Forty-Six

I'm thankful for my life today. Now, I don't know why, that on this day, more than others, you look kinder, sweeter, and softer to the touch, but the negative parts of your character--that I've struggled with in the past, just don't seem so glaring today. I love you all, and I thank you for your continued contact with me.

Day Forty-Five

I'm doing okay, maybe a bit stressed, but okay. I've changed my eating habits, sworn off the shit one more time. If I was cloning, this diet plan would be 'plan ninethousandtwohundredsix.' However, I've never failed at eating well, I've just discovered nine-thousand-two-hundred and five ways not to do it.

Day Forty-Four

An early spring cleaning today. Dusting, vacuuming, and watching my lovely Kate watch.

Day Forty-Three

"It's a pleasure to meet you." I just brought forty-eight years of baggage out of my closet and threw it on the table. I was afraid, but looking at it in the light, it's not that bad. I've done a lot of sorting. The Goodwill has gotten most of my things. Now, compared to her, she might be a lot younger than I, but her luggage can often be heavier, actually, quite a lot heavier, and they should be glad she has a strong man to help her lift it when she tires.

Day Forty-Two

Its beautiful here, cold and crisp, shades of deep greens and browns laying on a soft bed of white. She hurts me often and wether its from me being overly sensitive, or her being overly insensitive, it doesn't matter. I'm not sure what its like outside. The curtains are drawn, the chill only in this room.

"Have you seen my scarf Bear?"

"Yes sweetheart"

I hand her the dark green wrap--a print of Ganesh to guard her neck. It's goes beautifully with the deep browns of her eyes.

"Come back to bed Bear. Why are you up?"

I'm not sure if I can answer her, but beds seem cleaner when they're a stark white.

Day Forty-One

If I had to spell 'cat' fifty times in a row, and I couldn't 'F' it up once, under punishment of getting my fingers broken, I'd be screwed. If I had to speak a thousand words but not drop one 'F-Bomb, under punishment of getting my foot slammed in a car door, I'd be limping. So, I can't spell and I have a foul mouth, what does that really mean anyway?

Day Forty

The words are coming slow today. Meetings and hair-cuts have taken the place of a blistered finger.

"What do you do for work son?"

"I avoid it at all costs."

"Are you being smart with me?"

"No sir, I don't think anyone could be smart with you, they'd probably have to drop you off first, and then do it."

Day Thirty-Nine

"There's something sexy in commitment and being trusted." That sounded weird coming out of my mouth--almost like I just said I dig granny panties and flesh colored bras, but I mean it. And on the other hand, there is something very un-sexy about mistrust. I've developed a revulsion for being accused when not guilty, a withering of the libido when I'm not honored as she is. Maybe it's backlash from years of crap behavior on my end. Maybe I feel the need to be recognized for being as any man should be, but whatever it is, when I'm questioned, accused, sniffed, and prodded, you might as well throw cold water on the bed, because I ain't laying down in it.

Day Thirty-Eight

It's not abnormal behavior, as far as humans go, but it is strange for me. I used to have to fight my own instincts, my mind against body, but now I'm alligned on a level that I did not know existed. I'd like to blame it on her, because that's my standard operating procedure, but I won't. I think I've grown up. But don't get too worried, you who enjoy my reckless self-destructive streaks, I haven't grown up completely, I've just matured in an area that I never thought I'd grow in. Have I ripened? Fuck no, and I hope I never do, for the ripe fruit rots on the vine, I've just become drinkable--of an age some might find delightful, bold, yet innocent, subtle, nuances of unmanageability, a vintage most enjoyable.

Day Thirty-Seven

I think I might actually get this done. I put down a list of thank-you's today. It was short, but I meant what I said. "Without you, I could not..." I started this project in the late fall of 2005, egged on by my friend Bobby. It was "put up, or shut, up Jack". Fuck, has it really been that long? Of damage to my soul, there has been some. I've been forced to question what most 'believers' take for granted, but I'm looking forward to having a sense of accomplishment... I wonder what that feels like?

Day Thirty-Six

You'll never catch me rocking out to the Lord. No hands held in the air, head back with my eyes closed. I prefer to meet the maker one step below ecstatic. I like to discuss theory, concept, design. I want to know how you work your belief into your life. I like to sit quiet and listen for the silence.

Day Thirty-Five

I refuse to claim grace. Its prideful, arrogant, and unfeeling to say God stepped in and helped me. Why me, and not him, is a question I refuse to ask. I thank God daily for the gifts I've been given, and I thank him when those gifts are removed....

"For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit." (Isaiah 14:13-15)

Day Thirty-Four

"Do you miss me Bear?"

"I miss you like the night would miss the stars."

"But Bear, the city glow can hide those stars."

"No my Kate. There are always stars in the sky and no earthly glow can remove them, but if the day comes when all the stars are spent and only the cold black shells of planets are spinning in space, then the night will rend its clothes and curse God for taking away it's lover."

Day Thirty-Three

It's feeling like one of those days. Fighting with the ex--well, not fighting really, just re-examining the reasons we are no longer together. News Flash---The gentleman from the 700 club just informed me that my brain had shrunk, and I was no longer capable of experiencing the depth of emotion needed to maintain a long-lasting vibrant relationship.

Day Thirty-Two

Day Thirty-Two was a motherfucker. I didn't write one word. I will give you a couple now though. How about "Fuck Malware," "Shit" and "Piss".

Day Thirty-One (and a half)

I'm devastated. I know I'll get over it but it hurts. I promised I would'nt do something and now I don't see any other options. I'm angry. I refuse to spend my life sad and upset. I do love her, more so than I've ever loved another woman, but she isn't for me. I'm sorry.

Day Thirty-One

A longer ending to chapter three than I expected, and I've decided I need outside help. I'm too easily upset by the actions of others. I'm uncomfortable when the people I care about are unhappy. I know not giving a fuck isn't the answer, but there has to be some middle ground. I consider it torture when they won't hug me when I need it. On the recovery side, I'm learning that a thought is a thought and not all of them have to be positive. There are many times that I think in the negative about my present situation, but that doesn’t mean I'm ready to let it go. The same goes for those I love, just because they have some negative thoughts, it doesn’t mean they're leaving—at least not yet.

Day Thirty

I think a family of pixies have moved into my brain. I can't focus. They're moving furniture around in my head--getting settled for the spring. I woke up in the street this morning. One shoe off, one on, and the headlights of an oncoming car were echoed in my eyes.