Happy birthday, Jezebel

This day used to mean something to me. It was a special day. I always look forward to celebrating. Thirteen years. Then, I found out it was an illusion. She was using me to create her personal fantasy. 

I did not know what a narcissist was until I met her. Everything was always about her. She was physically and mentally abusive, but blamed it on me. Her dreams subdued mine. She thought her family was better than mine, even though she hated her family. But they were rich. It was always her parents' house for Christmas. It was her archaic religion over mine. I had to do this, and I had to do that, or I was out. I should have left long ago but I had hope. 

She probably told me she couldn't wait for her parents to die, so she could get her inheritance, just as many times as she told me that Byron was not my son. All I did was love her. All I got in return was her rage.

For 16 years, I've taken a shot of Crown Royal on this day. Pretending it was a bullet. I quit drinking, because my liver is almost gone and my kidneys are shot. Today, I will take a shot to prune juice and leave a pile in memory of her. Happy birthday Jezebel. Have they named an STD after you yet?

She Gets Nothing

They say no one born wishes they were a victim of abortion. I do. My family was fine but the others around me made me a monster. My family had to hide from my rage. I never told them the things that went on at school. The physical and mental assault, the groomung, the blackmail, the coercion, the SA. I tried to drown myself when I was 9 and again, at 45. I overdosed at 43, and would have made it if a nosy ass cop had not thought I flipped him off. I fucking hate humanity. There is nothing humane about it. I want to fight demons and monsters. I need an equal to battle. Humans are weak. They get bent out of shape over words and skin color. I'm looking forward to the day...

I want people to leave me the fuck alone. Stop reaching out or I will sleep sooner than expected. I found a hole to exist. I will never live again. I am content for the time being.

I gave away all of my money. The ex-wife's family is rich. I'm leaving nothing for her to try and come after. I gave away $350K. I've drank away $100K. Fuck that bitch. 

The next person that emails me or calls me will be responsible for my death.

Most of my monsters have been destroyed. All but one are dead. One died 52 years ago. One died in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. One died in prison in Colorado. One died in prison in Texas. One died on the streets of Phoenix, Arizona. The last one lives in Los Angeles, California. I finally found him. Soon, all of my demons will be gone.

Leave me the fuck alone

I asked nicely. Then I asked not so nice. Now I'm demanding: leave me the fuck alone! My ex wife fucked my friends. The boy that I thought was my son hates me. He told me to fuck off and die. I want to be left alone. I don't give a fuck about anything or anybody. I am existing until I finish my book. If anyone tries to contact me again, the book will remain unfinished. I am not afraid to die. I will not fail next time. Leave me the fuck alone. 

IMMIGRATION

Key U.S. Code (USC) sections in Title 8 governing illegal immigration include 8 U.S.C. § 1325 (improper entry), 8 U.S.C. § 1326 (illegal re-entry), and 8 U.S.C. § 1324 (bringing in/harboring). These laws criminalize unlawful entry, with penalties ranging from fines to imprisonment, particularly for repeat offenders or those assisting illegal entry. 

Core USC Sections Addressing Illegal Immigration

8 U.S.C. § 1325 (Improper Entry by Alien): Criminalizes entering the U.S. at unauthorized times or places, eluding examination, or using fraudulent documents.

Penalties: Fines and/or up to 6 months in federal prison for the first offense; up to 2 years for subsequent offenses.

8 U.S.C. § 1326 (Reentry of Removed Aliens): Makes it a felony for any alien previously deported or removed to re-enter, attempt to re-enter, or be found in the U.S. without authorization.

Penalties: Fines and/or up to 2 years in prison (or higher if the original removal was due to criminal conviction).

8 U.S.C. § 1324 (Bringing in and Harboring Certain Aliens): Prohibits smuggling, transporting, or harboring individuals known to be in the U.S. illegally.

8 U.S.C. § 1324a (Unlawful Employment of Aliens): Prohibits employers from knowingly hiring unauthorized workers and mandates civil penalties for violations. 

Liberals are stupid

I think it's funny how liberals and some republicans keep complaining that Trump is not doing what he promised. Y'all are stupid. He did drain the swamp and now the monsters are roaming around in the open committing their atrocities and thinking they are above the law. 

He let them cheat in 2020 and 2022, so he could prove how corrupt the deep state was. It worked.

Furthermore, do you remember being a kid and your best friend was getting ready to move? Your friend's dad saying they would leave about noon. But you and your friend caused so much havoc that you distracted his father from getting things done and they did not leave until midnight. You and your best friend were happy for a few more hours together, but the change was inevitable. That's exactly what liberals are doing. Raising hell, so Trump can't get his tasks completed. Protests and riots are just distractions to take society's focus away from the corruption of the Democrats.

For the love of God, let him work for us. 

Lamium amplexicaule

Little memories return as everything else fades away. I'm dying or losing my mind. I embrace either. Both are eternal bliss.

I remember 1975. Everything seemed like a cartoon. Life was elastic. Temporary tattoos. The Groovy Ghoulies. The dark, violent, painful memories that left shadows lurking in my soul. 

I was stuck in the echo chamber. I could hear everything. The wings of a fly buzzing around the classroom and the silence after it's feet made loud clacks as it landed on my desk.  Clocks ticking in the classroom. The breathing of other students. The sweat dripping from Refugio's forehead and hitting the floor. Mrs. Schneider rubbing her fingers on her forehead in frustration of quiz answers. But then that was all silenced by the loud buzz that pierced my ears. At times, a short lived high pitched siren-esque attack and other times a low drone that lasted for hours. I had to learn to read lips, during those episodes. I thought I was going mad.

The only escape was when Refugio and I  would wander to our sacred field of Lamium amplexicaule to play marbles. Bella would tag along because everyone else made fun of her. She had seizures and emanated the overwhelming chemical smell of her medicine. Refugio and I didn't mind. As we played marbles, we talked about the heroes of WW II. It was only thirty years in the past. Close enough to touch. The little purple flowers made me think of London for some unknown reason. Poor Bella would offer a whiff of chemical warfare. Our battle of agility with marbles, was our attempt at being soldiers and tossing grenades.  We defeated the Germans every time.

Sometimes Lavonne Fox and Stacey Greenwood would come out and cheer for the marbles. We liked those days. Lavonne had a little transistor radio, and we could hear songs from England. Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. We were little gods and goddesses in our field of purple flowers. 

Monday, we were 8 years old. Trading cards, playing marbles, and singing "You're a Grand Old Flag."

 Fiday, I'm 59, still hear all the noise, but don't know where my childhood friends are. No time for flowers. 

Oct 1985

I was out drinking with the boys. The mighty 4th ID was hell-bent on creating a memorable night. We would leave a dent in history in Ansbach. Ooo-ah!

Halfway through Laura Branigan's "Self Control," I dropped my manners, grace, and pride on the dance floor. She swooped in and saved me. Elegantly.

My drunk-man waltz initiated unintended contact. Two drinks hit the floor. I turned and started to say, "Excuse you," but could not find the words. She was beautiful. I was embarrassed. She said , "Of course, I would like to dance."

My mind wandered. We had just left Camp Henry in Daegu, Korea.. Jerry found a wife there, but I had remained steadfast and honor-bound to our assignment.  The boys played as I completed a crucial negotiation between faction leaders. Back to the now. This was not a "love you long time" moment. This was Germany. Bavaria, to be exact. This was a "love you right here, right now, in this moment" moment.  The DJ snapped me from my reverie. "Abhotten!" 

As our dance ended, she offered, "You go get drinks, and I will talk to the DJ."  

I will never forget the next song, "Ohne Dich." Without you...

https://youtu.be/JxkS1m05C5c?si=ItKv-TTAcwAMSP8f

I don't want to remember the rest of the night. She collapsed halfway through our dance.

Kaspar Hauser

Margravial Opera House in Bayreuth, Germany.

130 km NE

Happy 28 year anniversary. My Jezebel.

Today would have been my 28 year wedding anniversary. But my ex-wife chose a 40 something year old who was cheating on his wife with a married  17-year-old, over our family. He divorced his wife and married the 17-year-old, and my ex had the nerve to be a bridesmaid and hump the guy the day after their wedding. She told me that she was Catholic and could do that as long as she went to confession and said her "Hail Marys"and "Our Fathers." She said I should try it. That it was liberating. 

I found out later that she had 16 lovers in our 11 year marriage (including her ex-boyfriend, a student she was supervising, and some of my colleagues that I thought were friends). She admitted it to me. She said I was always working. Really? We had a house. We had two cars. We had insurance. But she said that was not enough. She needed mystery and excitement. She said that some people do not steal for monetary value but for the excitement and thrill of getting away with it. She claimed that was why she was cheating on me. The thrill of wondering what I would do if I caught her in bed with another man. Fucking twisted. 

She said only men could be narcissists. Women were just victims. Whatever.

It was fun until it wasn't. I don't miss the psychological or physical abuse. I wonder if she became an alcoholic because of her parents. Or if her parents became alcoholics because of her. She would write herself a script for Xanax and drink 500 ml of Crown Royal every night. Talk about madness. I survived the storm with most of my sanity.

This day is now a celebration of my independence. I now understand Charles Bukowski. Women will always lie and leave you in the cold. Alcohol will always tell the truth and keep you warm.

Happy would-be Anniversary to my dumb ass.

Written for Alison E Yaklin

She was wrong about almost everything. She said Courtney would never find out about the ongoing affair with Chris Porteau. Apparently she did. 

She said her license would never be in jeopardy. She should have never given me that hard-drive. I have every email and love letter between her and Chris the priss. I've given it over to the state ethics board. Happy Anniversary.

She was right about never giving up her relationship with her fukboi. And she was right about turning Byron against me. For this, I detest her pathetic existence. She may have Scotty's House fooled, but she WILL stand before God.

Her

I was a fan of  The Cure for a few years until I realized they were like a drug. They were taking me deeper and deeper into the miasmic haze of depression and self-destruction. 

I woke up one morning drugged up and cuffed. I had no idea who she was. Numb. Snippets of unimaginable fantasies echoed in and out of my mind. Each one tied to a dark harmonic strand of The Cures "Pictures of You." We were going to OD together. 

We had danced in the red pulse through the night. A kiss. Darkness...

I am glad we failed. Or am I?

I don't know where she is. Bavaria somewhere? Was she real? 

I can't believe with all the crazy things I did that I'm still here.

Leave Me Be

I don't want your pity. I don't want your understanding. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.

I gave humanity many chances. I am tired.

The lies. Betrayal. Use. Abuse. Abandonment. They left me cold and empty inside. The only fire that kept me warm was that of rage. It consumed me.

There is no hate. There is no love. There is only indifference. Pain has become by immortal lover.

I have made peace with the madness. Solitude is my kingdom.

I want to be left alone. Otherwise that cold steel blade will draw forth a warm, red, unstoppable river. I will be damned for eternity. Self-destruction in inevitable.

I am always watching. I am always aware. Stay away. I am no longer man. I am a monster. You have been warned.

I'm Home

I am old, worn, twisted, broken, tired, and bitter.

I burned all the bridges that led back to people who betrayed me. Beautiful fires. Why stop there? So I burned all the bridges that led back to people who might betray me. Mmmmm. The flames. Still not enough. So I burned all the bridges. Yessss...

Now, I  find myself alone on an island. But I am not alone. I realize this is my island of childhood terrors, abuse, and forgotten dreams. The landscape is nothing but different shades of darkness. There is no angelic glow. There is no demonic fire. There are no shadows here because there is no light. Only an empty void of black.

I can finally lay my head.

The Empire Center

In just under an hour. I will pass the Empire Center in Burbank, California.

(51 miles)

I remember the countdown in miles. Which eventually changed to a count in heartbeat. The anticipation. 

(42 miles)

I remember her smile, her eyes, her gentle laughter, her warm embrace, her whispers.

(34 miles)

I remember each moment. Her presence in my life was inspiring. It made me forget everything but remember everything. I touched the past and looked to  the future.

(22 miles)

I remember the silence between the words that told 1001 stories. I had found my Scheherazade.

(8 miles)

I remember her childhood but I was not there. The terrors of war withering a soul.

(1 mile)

I remember the love, but I have forgotten the remnants. The wind has carried the ashes away.

(fading in the rear view mirror)

I have cried a sea of tears, upon she will never sail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Written Dec 3, 2024

The Flash

Smoke rises to mingle with the clouds. Weaving a blanket of grayish tendrils to cover the night sky. The sliver of a moon dances in and out of phase, playing hide and seek with my senses. Her whispers drift on the zephyr wind...

...teasing  like the gentle caress of a lover.

Walking down a lonely road

Untethered threads of chaos hang

A river I could not cross

Only you, the rest is silence

 (flash)

Gaze once

(flash)

gaze twice 

(flash)

Enchanted the third time.

Taunting mountains to rise

(flash)

Tempting seas to boil

(flash)

Beguiling all senses

(flash)

Inviting kingdoms to crumble.

(flash)

The storm is upon me...

"Light 'em up" Charlie

I got a lot of time to think as I drive. And I'm just remembering a few of the characters in my life.

1985

"Light 'em up" Charlie. A black gentleman in his mid sixties. Well spoken and always sharp dressed. The only thing that seemed out of place was the patch over his left eye. One rumor has it that he lost the eye in the game of poker. Another claims he caught a finger in the eye as he was sliding into second base. No one knows the real story except his little brother, Jimmy, and he ain't talkin'.

Charlie would always light up a cigarette and hand it to you. I thought that's where his nickname came from until I saw him stand on a pitching mound. He could still throw a 90 mile an hour fast ball.

His best friend's name was Frosty. No one knew if that was his birth name or nickname. He was just "Frosty" to everyone. I think it was his snow white hair. There are legends that Frosty rode every train in North America (that includes Canada and Alaska). He claims to have met Casey Jones, Jack Kerouac, and a bastard offspring of Cornelius Vanderbilt. That would put frosty in his late 80s to his early 90s. But I tell you, he was sharp as a tack and could weave a tale.

I met them both under a bridge near a railroad in Colorado Springs, Colorado. 

...more to come

No More Lies

The darkness has returned. Suffocating. Shadows confine my breath to a claustrophobic panic. There is no one there, yet the silence offers a deafening roar. Taunting. Begging for blood. A rhythmic chant to end the chaos. Will tonight be the night that I silence to howling winds that stir the ashes of madness? 

Love was always someone else's lie, but my truth. A thief of hearts. A stealer of dreams. Warm lips offered a promise of truth. Cold steel offers the truth of a promise. No more lies. 

One is not destroyed with the truth of a cold steel sword. One dies by the warm promise of a lover's  lie.

Texas State Board of Examiners of Psychologists

I have a question for the Texas psychology ethics committee. 

How often do you overlook a married woman sleeping with a married man while she is supervising him getting his LPC license. And said forty years  old man is also cheating on his wife with a seventeen year old? 

I am just curious. I sent letters, emails, and other correspondence, as well as phone recordings between the two. It was all ignored.

This is far from over. I will take it as far as I have to. I will bring down your board if necessary. 

15 years ago, money gave them the advantage. Now, time has tipped in my favor. 

1974

I once knew a boy who was eight years old. He existed in the murky, unsettling waters of a nightmare. He was ugly, scrawny, and stayed to himself. He was beat up on a daily basis because he was white. As he grew, he failed to realize why his skin color was a curse.

He loved history. The tales of the Arabian Nights. King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. He believed in love and heroes. His aspiration was to become a hero. He knew he would spend his life trying to help people.

One day, he was at his nanny's house. All the other kids were younger than him, so he was allowed to stay up and help the nanny prepare snacks. 

Aunt Coot went outside to hang up close on the clothes line. He heard a noise from one of the back rooms of the house. He went to investigate. Two teenage black boys were doing something to a younger black girl. She looked over at him and started pushing the two boys away, telling them to stop. Even though they were bigger than him. He thought this was his chance to be a hero. He jumped in the room and told them to leave her alone. He did not realize they had no clothes on.

The two boys turned their attention to him. They jumped on him and dragged him to the floor. The young girl walked by and kicked him and called him a stupid white boy. Midway through their physical and sexual assault Aunt Coot returned. She had a broom in her hand and started beating one of the boys. The assaulted boy grabbed the brick that was holding the door open and hit the other attacker  in the head. Aunt Coot gave him a little checkup and doctored him up a little. She apologized profusely. She asked him if he could not tell anyone. She told him that child sitting was her source income. She was very poor. 

He mentioned it to one other adult and was told not to say anything because it would divide the town. He kept it to himself for years.

That little boy was me.

And there began my infatuation with death and suicide.

I don't want your fucking pity. I'm just letting you know why I stand where I do, protecting children.

Room 2A

Finally, the long drive was over. Detective P. Bear pulled into the cheap hotel where he had tracked the killer. It was going to be a long night. 

The sweat of 800 miles of asphalt, with no AC, to wash off in the shower would have to wait. First a shot of Jameson. Irish whiskey had been his sidekick since his partner had been shot 10 years ago. The cold-blooded bastard, Jeffries,  had killed  his partner his wife  and their daughter.  For what?  For a stereo  and a little silver. Or that was the story that was released. Bullshit!

As the warm whiskey slowly crawled down his throat, the cold rain fell outside. "How poetically...perfect," he mused. Phineas upholstered  his Sig and laid it on the nightstand next to the bottle of Black Label on the off chance Jeffries went hunting before dawn. Methodically, he placed his knife near the Sig, before removing his fleur-de-lis pendant given to him by his son. 

"Damn it," he thought, "why hasn't she called? It's been 2 days." He had met the woman of his dreams 2 years prior and they had fallen in love. "Focus, man, focus! The times finally here! Ten long years I've awaited this moment. I hope I don't have to shoot him. I want to hurt him real bad, and then let the judge have him." Phineas took another sip of whiskey and relived the memories of he and his partner touring in Central America and the late 80s.  They've been through High School, boot camp and the jungle together. They had decided to remain a team as law enforcement officers after their enlistment was up.

P felt migraine coming on. He grabbed the bottle of "amber answers" and tried to get to make sense of it all, but he knew there was no means to justify the end of life. He had seen enough death in the jungles of Columbia.

Written Dec 31, 2017

Fuck around and find out

I have a great idea. Let's keep fighting over the past and destroy the future. That is what everybody seems to want to do. Fuck it. Go for it. Let the government keep mind fucking you and we can kill each other off. Keep bowing before your master, "HATE." 

Fuck love. Fuck peace. Fuck forgiveness. Let's go! But be forewarned, I do not take prisoners. 

Keep your stupid rhetoric up and continue destroying this country. I will take you out. Look how far bitching and whining has got this country, so far. The more you complain the worse it gets. Keep on.

Ignore history or change history and wonder why it continues to repeat itself.

Focus on the flesh and not the spirit. Be an idiot.

But never tread on me again.

I grew up going to scool with alleged minorities, but I was the minority.

Predominantly black schools. I got my ass kicked everyday because I was white. I was called a slave master by the black kids. I was told to accept it because of the past. They were right. I did that. I had slave ships. I deserve to have my ass kicked everyday as a child.

Predominantly hispanic schools. I got my ass kicked everyday because I was white. I was called pinche gringo. I was told to accept it because I was white. I don't know what I did 200 years ago. But I guess I did it. I deserved to have my ass kicked every day as a child.

Predominantly native american schools. I got my ass kicked everyday because I was white. I was called a colonizer. I was told to accept it because I was white. They were right. I did that. I can find all natives two reservations in America. I deserved to have my ass kicked everyday is a child.

The people that bitch and moan today are the oppressors. I was a child. I could have grown up to be  racist, but I did not. I did nothing to deserve anyone's wrath. They didn't even ask. They assumed because my skin was white. That I was a slave owner, a colonizer. My bloodline is Hebrew, Irish, and Native American. We could compare charts on slavery end suppression.

I lived through hate. Many of you reside in hate. You need to pick your fucking battles before you lose the war.

Psychological Poison (Narcissistic woman)

FIRST DATE 

Me: You are drunk. Let me get you home.

Her: I don't want to go home. My boyfriend is there.

Me: You have a boyfriend? Why did not you say something?

Her: I've been looking for a reason to leave him. I think I found a reason. You are a little cuter and have a job. Just take me to a hotel room.

I got her a hotel room. Left a glass of water on her nightstand and left. She begged me to stay. I could not. She was drunk and had a BF.

I should have never called back 

‐---------------------------------------------------------

We eventually started dating. She let her ex sleep in the spare bedroom of our duplex. She gave him a pity/goodbye screw,  with me in the other room, and kicked him out.

I should have walked away.

Two years later he stopped by the duplex while I was at work. They had their fun and he stopped by my job to brag. She denied it for years, but eventually confessed.

I should have walked away. 

‐----------------------------------------------------------

Things are fine for 2 years. Then marriage. Things start changing. I start paying her way through school where she meets her many lovers. 

Monday. Her: Don't touch me. You remind me of sex with my brother.

Tuesday. Her:  Do you still find me attractive? Then why are you not touching me?

Repeat for 10 years.

Me: I have an idea. Why don't you tell me when I can touch you.

Her: You're not a man.

----‐-----------------------------------------------------

4 YEARS INTO MARRIAGE 

She came to me crying.

I asked what was wrong. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I did not mean to. It was a mistake. "

"What do you mean?"

"I'm pregnant."

‐----------------------------------------------------------

Her: He's not you son.

-------------------------------------------------------

Her:  Everyone in my family has made something of themselves. Except you. You will always have your name on your shirt. You will always be a nobody. Why don't you go to school?

I go to school. Full time work Full time school.

Her: You're never home. I need intimacy. I've had sixteen boyfriends in the eleven years we've been married.

Her: Some people steal not for the monetary value but for the thrill of getting away with it. That's why I cheated on you. Wondering if you would catch me made the sex better.

---‐-------------------------------------------------------

Her: He's not your son. I've had sixteen lovers since we got together. I don't know who's son he is.

----------------------------------------------------------

Her: Your family is poor. My family is rich. Marrying you was an accident. Why don't you kill yourself?

Me: Because the life Insurance policy would not pay out. 

Her: I don't care. My parents are rich. I will get money when they die. My families fucked up but we got money. Valerie and Yvonne sexually abused Ricky, and he sexually abused me.

---------------------------------------------------------

Her: He's not your son.

----------------------------------------------

She drank 750ml of Crown Royal a night and accused me of overspending when I bought a laptop for work. 

She prescribed Xanax to herself.

She was a cutter. 

She blamed it all on me.

She said I was too close to confide in. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

Her: In college, I used to go down to the guys' dorms to study. I would usually get drunken pass out. I would wake up naked in a bed. I know that I have sex with 6 or 7 of them on any given night. I'm lucky I did not catch anything or get pregnant.

Me: The secrets a man learns after marriage.

Her: You would not have married me if I had told you this before.

----------------------------------------------------

Her: Wake up, Don. Everybody cheats. Your sister did. Your mother did. It's not a big deal. Yvonne cheated on Martin in medical school and got herpes. David cheated on Valerie because she's a bitch. Ricky cheated on his wife because she was a bitch. The guy I'm bangin right now is married and has a 17 year old girlfriend that he plans to marry. It's just sex. You should try it.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Her: In the silence of the night,

I heard your teardrops hit the pillow.

I felt no guilt or remorse.

I'm in love with another man.

I will never give him up.

Accept it or I will divorce you.

----------------------------------------------------------

NEVER EVER AGAIN WILL I TRUST