Blog Archive

Monday, October 31, 2011

Post-Structuralism, Post-Modernism, Post-Post-Modernism

It appears to me, that many of the writers and thinkers who are lumped under these, largely nonsensical, monikers, are missing the Point.

While I find many of their Critiques of Modernism quite compelling, it feels, mostly, Reactionary. I, too, am coming around to reject the Universalism that was inherent in the Enlightenment Project…as I’ve said, the EP inherited this from the Religious Certainty that came before…and, it seems, in order to supplant that Unenlightened Order, it was felt, however unconsciously, that the ability to Universalise Everything was essential.

I disagree, for the most part.

While Natural Science, and Mathematics do, indeed, seem to fit well with Universalism (2+2=4, in all corners of the universe, or Gravity is the same, everywhere)…I think that it is hubristic to insist on this standpoint. We can suspect, but not Know what is happening on the “other side” of the Universe…we cannot even Know that there Is another “Side”.

In my Thinking on these matters, I keep coming up against this Wall of Unknowing, where most Philosophers begin Freaking Out, and making all manner of Assumptions, that they then disguise as “Analysis”. Although I find this terribly Dishonest, I do not think that it is Meant to be so…it’s part of the Way we do things…part of the “Structure” of our wrestling match with the Universe.

Man has never been comfortable with Not Knowing…and this has driven all of our exploits and triumphs, from the wheel, to Einstein. Every hundred years or so, someone stands up and announces that we , finally, Know It All! We Have It Figured Out! So, Relax!

Sometimes it’s Political, like Fukyama’s “Last Man” standing at the “End of History”…more often, it seems to be an unconscious Weariness with the Chase after Understanding….when someone happens upon a Theory that seems to satisfy whatever new discoveries, or events, had thrown everything once more into doubt, it is cheered as The Answer.

Unnoticed, and not always Willfully, is the presence of Assumptions.

Even Kant, with his Rigor, was subject to Assumptions.

The world is exceedingly Complex, after all.

Neitzsche, in my opinion, comes closest to getting at the Roots of it all, and leaving the World open for new discoveries and ideas.

But, that is just my Thinking on the matter…based on my own Assumptions, of course.

What gets me on to this, today, is further reading in relation to the last Post…about Alienation, Anomie, etc

Beyond all the Theories and Assumptions that we use to try and understand the World, a new thing has been born…perhaps it’s not all that new, just more obvious to those who are looking on…that is, the Fundamental Disconnect, between what We Believe, and What is Real.

I’m speaking, here, from my own Perspective, of Outsider, looking In.

It has become mostly clear to me that Western Civilisation is built upon a Foundation of Assumptions..that we all believe, implicitly…but that are, for the most part, False.

This is where Occupy# meets the Opposition. Dollar as Fetish…Free Speech Rights, meet the Storm Troopers…American Dream, meet the Nightmare.

Is it just to call all of our Assumptions, all of the Building Blocks of our Civilization, “Lies”?

In my experience, it would appear so…and this is compounded by the almost Universal Denialism that was extant, up until very recently.

These complaints, now all over Wall Street, and Main Street, even a year ago, would have been met with disdain and belittling. Faux News, et alia, are , indeed, conducting a smear campaign rooted in disdain for the tearing down of their Essential Assumptions….and the ad Hominem Belittling that has become their hallmark. Does this lend credence to my own Assumptions? I think so. The fact that Faux’s Meta-Critique of the “Movement” has been largely ignored, if not dismissed, by a seeming Majority, certainly makes it seem so.

It remains to be seen.



Exile and Anomie

I awoke kind of late, this morning, Mind already aswirl with Memory, and with a glittering suggestion of Insight, Context; like coins in a pool.

I may have been dreaming; I don’t know. It is not usual for me to remember Dreams.

Magnolia/Tomball…Cops…School/College…Her, and how those experiences fit in with all the rest.

I don’t mean to belabor…to wallow…

But it is important, to me, to get at these Roots.


I am an Exile.

I have always been an Exile, even if I didn’t know it,….

I woke with the Memory of that Feeling…in Tomball, close to the end of my times, there. I was in the Van, at Spring Creek Park. I had a job, still…but I was soon to quit, and leave, forever. I had had a somewhat harrowing night of being chased, again. Hunted, one might say…for that is certainly what it felt like. This was during a relatively sober period. And I remember sitting there, thinking; why do they hate me so? Officer Stan had let me know that the rest of them were planning on ‘getting rid” of me…and I reeled as I digested this.Like all the rest of my involvement with cops, it seemed like such Overkill, such Surreal Behavior.

I had gotten their ‘attention’ by doing what I thought was the Right Thing…and Her Dad disagreed, and made me a Pariah. All my BS was a reaction to this. She was now long gone…and I had tried to overcome the Pariah-hood, doing the things I thought I was supposed to do. College, Job, attempts at Sobriety.

None of this mattered. I was still hunted.

It likely didn’t help that I was homeless, most of the time. I didn’t get along with Mom…so I avoided the Homestead…Dad was gone off, into his new life. I couldn’t afford an apartment…so it was the Van.

The only places that I felt welcome were the Beerjoints.

Playing the Blues.

Attempted Sobriety meant avoiding such places.

I had nowhere to go.

I avoided thinking about this conundrum, for a long, long time…this Unwantedness.

I was Naturally Rebellious, of course…always had been….and, as I’ve said, Undomesticated…Feral. Social Conventions eluded me. I was not a Christian, I was a (Wild) Genius, Pothead, Hippie.But all my old friends were gone …save GW.

I had already determined that I disliked College…I found the focus on “Career” a disappointment…as well as the lack of the Intellectual Bohemianism that I had expected.

All was Shallow.

So, it was with a certain reluctance that I made the move back to Huntsville, and University.

Though I tried to be serious about the Schooling, and the Band(what I really wanted to do, btw), the feeling of Pariah-hood, of Not Fitting, Not Belonging, followed me.

I was aloof, for my whole time , there.

These feelings of Separateness, coupled with the Boredom of the Classes, as well as the whole College/Frat Normality, led, inevitably, to Drinking.

In this, at least, I was not alone. Everybody was fucked up.

I’m meandering.

The point is my Not Fitting….My Exile…Ostracism…Alienation.

I can sit here, in my Library, 20 years later, and know that what was ‘wrong’ with me, at that time, was that I didn’t Belong…seemingly anywhere. But I still don’t know Why…I can point to all sorts of things, but they all fall apart with even a half-hearted application of Reason.

There was never enough money, of course…which, at the time felt something like betrayal…Me and my Brother had always expected, with good reason, that this time of our lives would be taken care of, financially…and it was not. There was barely enough Jack to get by…and few jobs, in this sleepy little hick-town.

The flying leap that was the Exodus to Austin was, on paper, due to this…and the Dean’s uncompromising attitude. Beneath all of that was the Hope that Austin, being the only Liberal Enclave in Texas, would prove to be the long sought Home. Potential Asylum….the only Asylum that could be hoped for in Texas, at least.

This Subtext I never spoke of.

And the disappointment that was found there was entirely Personal and Private.

The Hope was shattered.

My Folks had never given any indication that they understood what was happening with me, during all this time…from Mag/Tom to Hunstville, to Austin.

Dad’s aloofness, was compounded by his unawareness of Economics. It was no longer 1962. $50 wouldn’t get ya anything, in 1992 College Life.

Too, I know now, that he was dealing with his own Psychology…as was Mom,in a different way.Denial and Confusion. Searching, in their own unique ways for their own, personal asylum.

I understand, now….and I don’t blame them…for divorce, or any of the unintentional baggage they foisted on my Brother and I.

It did, however, play a large part in my own problems…my Roots had been severed. There was no Homestead to retreat to, any longer.

The Cop problem followed me.

I don’t know why I have always been a Cop Magnet. It doesn’t matter if I cut my hair, wear nice clothes, etc. There is something about me that bothers them, even from a distance.

Having a gun to one’s head, for no good reason, put there by a representative of Normalcy and Society…against whom there is no recourse…has an effect, I guess.

Cops and Rednecks give me the Willies, even now.

All of this, I figure, combines to shape who I am.


In Love, in Civil Society, in “Academia”(I should’ve gone to Brown, or somewhere…), even the perceived, and unintentional, Rejection by Family.

I made it worse, of course, by seeking solace in Drunkenness….and by going even further afield, as it were, in my Rebellion.

Even the approved drug of choice of my Civilisation made me even more of a Pariah.

Attempting to Deal with the Pain of Rejection brought greater Rejection.

I could never Grok why I was singled out, from all the other Drunks, for such Special Treatment.

It was with this Psycho-Social Dysfunction that I retreated to this Wilderness Outpost..far from everything. The Failure to Integrate Myself into a larger Community, while still maintaining my own, Personal , Integrity followed me here.

My years here, have seen me retreat even further, body and soul, from the world. The Loneliness grew oppressive…even after I met my wife.

My attempts to integrate into this Frontier Community have, largely, Failed.

I , very simply, have nothing in common, with anyone.

Too, the Paranoia engendered by the Cop Problem grew and flourished with my Exile….always expecting, despite the irrationality of it, the Knock at The Door…

On the Farm, I could see the cattle guard that was the only approach, some ½ mile up the dirt road. The few times a Sheriff’s Car ventured down that road…even if I had called them! heart skipped. I found myself looking over my shoulder, even way out there.

When we determined that we had a Prowler Problem…psychopathic Neighbor, sneaking…the Paranoia grew even worse. Even in that Far Place, I was Unwelcome.

So, after 15 years, when my Stepdad had his Psychological Break, and I was the Root of All Evil, it was no surprise, really.Why should I expect to Belong here, when I had never Belonged anywhere?

To Town…still Far from Civilisation…and I had a long, slow Breakdown of my own.

For better than 2 years, I’ve been rooting around in my Past…how I felt, what all happened…Confronting all this Pain and Bewilderment…Remembering, at last, where I came from, and what all contributed to the making of Me.

I am coming to terms with it all…accepting it. Even, it is to be hoped, Owning it.

I, to be honest, have few Regrets…that is not what all this is about.

If I blame anyone, it is the Civilisation, as a whole, in which I had the misfortune to find myself. The one Nation in the history of Mankind, where one was taught to expect, at the very least, a certain Tolerance for Strangeness…and I have found it entirely wanting.

The expectations I inherited from Family, from Schooling, from the Lies we tell ourselves about Who We Are…It is no wonder, at all.

I did my best, in the circumstances…and kept my own counsel.

There was, it turned out, no good, accurate, actionable advice to be had.

Camus said, “We all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes, and our ravages. But our task is not to unleash them on the world; it is to fight them in ourselves and in others.” … and I feel this, in my Bones.

I have been, at times, Overwhelmed by this Otherness…at other times, I Embraced it. Mostly, I have walked the fine line between…and this, I think, gives me a good grounding for the Identification of, and Indictment of, our Collective Failure to live up to our lofty Ideals. In this time of Public Rebellion… at where We are, and just how much We’ve been lied to… I am finding at last a Connection, however tentative, with Humanity.

In my time, I have been Ostracized…and while there have been many who seemed to relate to this…nowhere have I found someone that was willing to talk about, to Explore this phenomenon. I have perceived an unconscious devaluing of that part of my history and psychology that Feels this Ostracism so fiercely. These feelings, like my fish in the pond analogy, were always, at least tacitly, illegitimate….and that denial, that gave birth to the deligitimatization, is what appears to be falling away, right now…out in the wider world. Occupy Everything, indeed…where have you all been?

I’ve been hammering away at these things for years and years. Invalid Hurts. Devalued Feelings. The strange behaviour of Law Enforcement towards me… the American Mythology of Rugged Individualism, of “Responsibility”…this has been preached at us all, for a long time. The water we swim in is of no consequence…it is our own damned fault.

When I would articulate that this was almost entirely Bull Shit…on those few occasions, it was as if I had stripped naked in church and lit my hair on fire. Unthinkable.

This is turning into a time of Apocalypse…”Unveiling”…where the scales are falling from what looks like a majority’s eyes. I just got there first, it seems.

It took the excesses of the Bush Darkness…the Mythos on display, for all to see it’s Hollowness….and the Cynical Purchase of the Tea Party, along with their own insistence, beyond all Rational Credulity, that they were Genuine(!)…as well as(most importantly) the Breakdown of the Whole American Dream/Exceptionalism/ Wholesale Irrationality-Project that has been the Norm…for more than a fringe minority of my countrymen to finally Wake the Fuck Up….

Can I come Home, now?

Can I be an American, again?

May I rejoin Civilisation, now that so many of you have finally come around?

Home, now?H









Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Barrio, at Night

The Barrio is somewhat active , tonight.

Comings and goings and lurkings and waitings.

Folks in their backyard, I can see them from my Café.(A Table, out by the Street.)

Folks talking, having a cigarette on their front porch, in the dark…some, in the light.


For sex, drugs, plans.

And endless dogs.

Barking, whining, howling.

Dogs, I envision, of all shapes and sizes.

My geese are chuckling quietly.

Chortling, and every so often, letting out a trumpet-like hoot.

Ducks, muttering in the kiddie pool.

The chickens, at least, are silent.

I’m waiting on the cold front…

I’ve been Feeling it’s approach all day.

The stars, to the north and west are blurry….

Probably in Brady and Menard, by now.

Thirty-Five miles.

I know it’s close, because the Pain lessens as it passes.

It’ll return by morning.

It’s quiet.

Distant dogs, now.

Trucks on the highway/Main Street…braking to round the Square.

I wish I had better legs…

I’d like to ride the bike down there, to the Square.

There’s something about small, Texas towns, at night.

Just the suggestion of an Endlessness, beyond the lights at the center of town…

Of highways

Of the wide world, out there.

In the Dark.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Climbed a Mountain and I Turned Around

I knew, from the first formulation of my Plan, just what the after-effects would be. The Boy’s, and Wife, were to go to a party in Junction, Texas…and I wanted Wilderness. So it was South Llano River State Park. The river, itself, was largely closed off, due to several hundred Wild Turkeys in residence…fucking and roosting. This was indicated right there on the web site’s map. The adjacent Buck Wildlife Management Area contained miles of trails…that I immediately intuited were beyond my reach…so the “Scenic Overlook”, it was.

From the parking lot, to the top, the paved park road went at a consistent 45 degrees, up and back, 1.2 miles. I was determined…but I was under no illusions.

I preemptively took an extra Vicodin, and a half a Magic Brownie….dropped off my Bunch, and went.

I met an interesting couple in the parking lot…and we fell in together for the trek. Ended up talking all manner of Esoterica…from Geology to the Sight that seems to run in my family and hers.(premonitions and Vibe-Reading,lol)

Halfway up, it was not my legs, but my lungs, that were questioning the Wisdom of this endeavor…my enforced idleness has led to heavy smoking…a vice I have hitherto accepted as the price of Sobriety, Sanity and Clearheadedness in enduring my Boredom…

Three Quarters of the way Up, I could feel my joints’ growing protest…but I was determined. I have learned to eschew breaks, when I have a like task to complete; whether it something in the Garden, or some necessary Walking that I must do…when I rest, after exertion, my Joints (all of them) tend to “Seize Up”…

As I didn’t desire to become a permanent resident, despite the rugged beauty of the place, I stopped only twice on the ascent; and only for a moment.

At the Top, 500’ or so above the Vale of the Llano, there was a serviceable and much welcome picnic table. I did stop there, for almost 30 minutes. My erstwhile companions came up after 10 minutes, or so.

It was quite Beautiful…late afternoon sunlight and shadow…the mountains (someone from, say, Colorado, would call them hills…but in Texas, they are Mountains…)…Mountain Cedar, Mesquite, Cactus, Agerita, Bear Grass, and a number of plants, especially Trees, that I could not Identify…the spring fed South Llano, far below, with Donkeys grazing, a few deer…(the only ‘word’ I know in Deer is “Run!”,lol…a sharp “Pffft!”)

The couple inadvertently restored my Hope for Humanity…him especially. He was interested in Everything…and was almost giddy that I am a Fount of Information…most folks are bored, or put off when I Hold Forth…and I do tend to wander widely…I go on and on about everything, save sports…

These folks were not Put Off…and, more, kept up…I should have exchanged emails addy’s, at least.

My Bones were beginning to signal that I should descend…I’m a sort of connoisseur of Pain, these days…

So down we went.

Going down is harder, for me, than going up…worse, when there are stairs…this is due to the Nature of my Damage…by the time we got to my truck, I could already confirm my much earlier foreknowledge that I would not be worth shooting…We parted…and I went to pick up my Bunch…and flew the 45 miles home. By the time we arrived, it was all I could do to get to the bed…and I slept fitfully…and awoke, as I predicted, at 2 am, when the Pain Meds wore off. I managed to finish my book (Ch. Freeman’s “381”), while coffee was making…and here I am, in the Library…More than a mile, yesterday…and , today, I find the 30 feet to get down here almost impossible. I knew I would pay dearly for the experience. It will be Meds, Brownies and Movies, today…and Pain.

But it was worth it…I haven’t done anything of the sort in almost 6 years…and the chance meeting of Kindred Spirits made it all the more worthwhile…

(and Stevie Nix is in me head…)

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Tea, Coffee and Occupation

It was entirely predictable, that the media and the Rabid Right would poo-pooh the growing Occupy the World Movement. The Tea People, the Insane Psychopathic Screamers on Faux News, and other bastions of the Right Leaning Media(like the entire AM dial…”Liberal Media”, my white ass!)…and Republican Politicians, who Fear the Pseudo-Movement they helped to create(Tea)…all have come out against the Occupiers. Cantor’s “Concern” about the “Mobs”…the innuendo and belittling off hand comments about Laziness, “Get a Job”, and all the rest….

It is somewhat comforting…encouraging…to see the FEAR in these Folks’ eyes.

The very Idea of a Leaderless, Manifesto-less Movement fills me with Hope that…just perhaps…there’s enough moxie left in the American People to curtail our headlong plunge into Pseudo Fascism/Pseudo Feudalism/Panopticon. It may be too late, but at least WE rose up a little, before the End.

As I’ve said before, the little town where I live has been in a Great Depression for at least 10 years. Anyone can see this, if they were to open their eyes. Wages are stagnant, “unemployment” is rampant…there is no Healthcare worth the name…and most folks scratch and scramble to get by. Yet, in the last 10-15 years, my county has sided with the architects of this malaise…(republicans)

I know, I know…we’re supposed to “Rise Above” the partisan divide, and all…I say Bullshit.

While Democrats have been spineless, supine and overly accommodating…the recent History of Us is quite clear: Republicans made this…Forget, for a moment, that the Republican Party opposed every bill, every policy, since 1900 that helped the poor, and the middle…I’m talking about the last 32 years, and especially, the last 12. The “Reagan Revolution”,and all that went with it, has been an abject Failure for everyone, save the much loathed 1%, and assorted dictators, Bankers, Hedgefund Managers, and other, sundry Parasitical Elites. All of them have done quite well, thank you…and it is somewhat heartening, even at this late hour, to see a Majority of my countrymen Correctly Identify the proper perpetrators of our collective pain.

For 35 years, we have believed the tripe, that it is all our fault that we are not wealthy…that it has nothing, whatever, to do with the way the System is Structured…that such laying of Blame is , somehow, a Copout, a Lazy Excuse, Unamerican.

How uplifting to see , on one of Maddow’s polls(I understand, about polling) that about ¾’s of Americans finally are willing to say that all of this is, indeed, Bullshit. The same old Piss On the Little Guy Policies are all the Right has to offer….an Utopian, entirely Fictional World, where “Hard Work and Sacrifice” will pay off…where You, Too Can be a Millionaire. Where we are a Nation of Laws, and that No one is above those Laws.

Turns out that there’s a lot of “People” who are above the Law…they are known as Corporations.


It’s going to take a lot more than folks camping out to change course, I’m afraid.

We have yet to see the full force of the Machine brought to bear…as much as I , a Liberal, abhor Violence…I predict that there will be Violence.It is likely the only Language that the Machine, and it’s Minions, understand. That said, such Violence will be, truly, Defensive…(I’ve got Billy Joel in my head, at the moment…”We didn’t start the fire…”) We didn’t declare War on “Them”; rather They, on Us…they just forgot, or neglected, or were too sneaky, to inform us of the Fact. Now is the Time, and we know the Time(Dean Moriarty)…Time for the Counterattack…for our generation’s “Once more, into the breach”…Au Deamus! Let Us Dare, to endeavor to make “Take Back America” something more than a bumpersticker. Our Country has been stolen, We know who the thieves are, and We know where they live.

Humans, arise.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Fragments From My Wild Years

XTC in asphalt.

Heaven of steel and glass.

Freewayjamming all the way to



And it was Mine.

Raw rubber roaring

On the psychedelic overpass.

Moonlight giving way to Streetlight.

…as we rolled down the exit ramp

Into the modern Shangri La.




Once again, I’m alone.

Users and abusers and beerlights.

Play guitar in the bar

And hope it turns out alright.

Wanna find a place to hide.

Wanna jump in the car and ride away.

Wanna girl to tell it all to…

To make it go away.

Too many drinks and endless nights, on highways.

Far too many people.

I don’t even know their names;

The ones who live at the foot of the stage

And look at those who reside in the spotlight.

…and I think about the past six years,

People I’ve known, women I’ve fallen in Love with

Places I’ve been.

All gone.


I’m in a different world, now.

It’s only inhabitant.

(3-11-91Little Lick’s Back Porch)

(this is after I’d come off the Road, licet insanire)



Dabs of paint on the tapestry of my Life.

…and it’s coffee psychosis for me

Trying to throw this hairshirt to the dogs

Savour the flavour of solace

A phoenix from the flame.

Birds sing and beasts howl

The wind growls, there’s not much time.

To remember the rhyme bfore it all comes down.

Don’t know how it all got so crazy

Can’t tell if I’ve lost my mind.

Guess it’s what sometimes happens

When you’re cut loose

From all those ties that bind.

And falling in love is easy

Yet it’s never what it seems.

You never know what to expect

(lacunae) dreams…

(circa 1991)


She didn’t call.

I waited for hours, but she didn’t call.

So I’ll leap into oblivion, with unfounded conclusions and get drunk

And bitch and carry on to the stars…

Been up on the roof.

I can hear the groaning Universe laugh and churn

And I’m a singular entity

In this dancing swirling cosmos,

Watching the indifferent moon bounce from behind the trees.

Silver light

Reflecting from the edges of distant clouds…

And the clouds, themselves…

Vaguely defined in the pseudolight,

Lending a wider perspective to my lofty view.

The crickets don’t care.

They plod on in their chaotic drone,

The very gears of the mighty throbbing cosmic machine

Creaking and pounding in the bosom of my long hot American night.

I’ll call her tomorrow.

(circa 1991, on the roof of the Birdhouse)


Voices from the past send me plummeting from beyond the brink of remembrance. Blues bourbon beerjoint reality. Excuse me while I pass out on stage…one more for the road, Sam…T’anks.

Back to the van. Run to the hills.

Wake up with Heartless Hangover to singing birds sighing winds and sunlight that burns the brain and fills the mind with half images…atop Mt Bonnel, pello y perro. Where’s that takillya, Sam? Acid on the bayou, Dispair on the Mesa…

Purple cartoon wasps on my windshield, a year later.

Millions of them!

Love lost, what a cost.

This freedom’s a damned lonely business…

(circa 92, after wreck(AW))


I’m leaving it all behind me, as I ask the road to dance.

Can’t hang around here anymore

Gotta leave while I have the chance.

And tho it’s been a hellova time,

I’ll leave, while the leavin’s good.

There’s better places to be down.

(circa 92?)


Worlds away;the one’s I’ve loved.

I’ve nothing to help me rise above

The pain and hell and gloom

In a world filled with the brightest colors

Greens browns sky blues

There’s dirt under my fingernails

Sand in my shoes.

Wandering walkabout

Hairy Peace Frog

Hip hop hopping down freedom’s lonely path

Not a dime to my name

Lacking in fame

Slipping into oblivion


Heaven or hell

Just as well

Either way I’ll go in a bucket

Fields of buttercups

A new world woman

The poetess,

The barmaid

And gumby’s best friend.

The runaway lovechild who joined a marine

Blonde Czech beauty where are you, now?

All gone away

Body and spirit

(3-91 Birdhouse)


Send me another shot of Inspiration

I need to bask in the light of some new stimulus

Like a large lizard on a rock.

Give me a jigger, or two, of Love

Or, at least, lust.

I long to swim in the moonlit river of emotion, once again.

Float me a loan on a new soul

There be too many miles on this one.



Weekend in the Life

Been up for four days,


Mad dreamsong of blues and a short, potato-like woman

With bushels of soul.

Beer and bourbon…

And I’m clean and tan, tonight, on the floor

In front of the Gasjetheatbox, watching massive bugs bounce off walls.

I’m sluggish…

Time for a week off, if I can handle it.

A week to work in sunlight and garden grass

And regain some facsimile of inner peace…

I coasted in from highways,

Hungover and out of gas…back from four days

And nights of blues and booze and my wild,

Older woman friend,

Watching her soapopera dramas of boyfriends

And bourbon and puppypetting

Euphoric sadness.

How I care for her.

She keeps me just far enough out of trouble

In the actual Reality

Of bar beerjoint highway madness night

Neon warm thick ruddy light with smoke in great clouds

And champagne nightcaps and “where’s Darrel?” at 4 am steak and eggs.

Wild weird craziness, such is my world

Samsara ecstacy.

((circa 91)

Monday, October 10, 2011

Archetype and Symbol (or Amfortas, meet Parzifal.) (or, Wounded King, meet the Holy Fool)

Applied Archaeology has never been my strong point, at least in practice. I am the Theorist, usually. Applied Archaeology is tedious, and sometimes you hafta come face to face with Bones, which are scary.

The whole Point of this latest exorcise has been to get to the Bottom, and clear it out. I have grown epically Tired of the Epic Sadness; tired of the Rut…especially since I didn’t even know what it was all about. The Subconscious is an amazing place.

Memories of Feelings that were too painful to bear, were subsumed, in a Deluge..of beer, wine and Forgetting.

I remember, now…when it began. The first, at the pool, at Her mom’s house, waiting on my ride to ‘finish’ with the object of my desire.

Second, in Nanduhirion…the Deep Woods behind Presley’s, on a hill, under a large oak, where the Camp was. Her, off in the woods, with that same buddy…me, by the Fire, drinking Mad Dog 20/20…these were the first times I drank to forget.

How many times did this situation repeat, with so many women?

It is as if She engraved “Sucker/Knight Errant” on my forehead.


I don’t ‘blame’ Her, I understand where She was, where She had come from…I think that Understanding, when combined with Betrayal, produced a kind of Break….the two could not be reconciled….and I spent the next 10 years(20?) trying to kill myself, however passively.

I was not, in any way, prepared for this stuff…I ‘learned’ about “Love,etc” from books…Arthur and Guinnyfar,or worse, the “Snows of Kilimanjaro”….( I intend to enlighten my boys, however I can) So, I had an actual Girlfriend,”P”…and I really loved her(still do)…she was good for me. We had a good time of it(I really don’t know how long…years)…but I ended it, badly.(I guess I knew, at some level , that I had fucked up…’cause I kept trying to get back w/ P…to no avail.)

The Romantic Annihilation swept me up…and, coupled with the whole Cops vs. Me-thing, the Outlaw/Pariah situation(which, again, started with Her, even if they were not Her doing!)…and I went looking for Errantry. At the time, I didn’t know what I was doing…, my Wild Years were the Natural Thing to Do…a Ritual Immolation….Cosmically Symbolic…and Totally Unconscious.

I bounced between Tomball, Magfuckingnolia and Huntsville for a while…then added Louisiana, and the Deep South…I lived in cars…then a Puke Green VW Van. But as far as I went, I was still in Orbit around Tomball. It flabbergasted me, that I couldn’t seem to leave…I didn’t know what I was looking for…there were no goals, aside from the next party, alone or with other fucked up folks..I played Blues…became the Bluesman…the Wild Man. Beerjoints, Barlights, Cops after me…I learned to sneak in and out of town…I knew all the back roads.I bathed in muddy creeks, camped in Wild Places…worked, just off and on…I, in retrospect, ceased to give a damn. Shallow ‘relationships’, even shallower ‘affairs’…

…Then I had the Wreck, and stopped for several months. This gave some musicians I had Jammed with a chance to nail me down (I couldn’t walk), and Birdhouse was formed. First Gigs were with me, the front man, in a wheelchair…and there was free beer! I started back to the local college, but it didn’t last…I descended, once again. Fights in the Band, and me running around looking for Something….it all fell apart, again. DWI, despondency, despair…

In that time, a long string of one night stands…and I fell in Love, at the drop of the skirt.

I must stress, I had no idea…indeed, I often wondered at the insanity of it all…the Motto, if there ever was one, was “Further!”, snatched from Ken Kesey, and Neil Cassady(Dean Moriarty)…

I ended up back in school …

Finally back in Huntsville, while the Road kept pulling me back…tugging me…saying,”Au Deamus!”…I (kinda) resisted, for a time. There were still many failed love affairs….and a lot of drink/drugs…but I was serious about school, for the only time in my life.I first lived with my brother, and we quickly formed a Band, Hot Wired Dumptrucks…did a lot of our own material (esp. my stuff)…and drank, drank, drank…until I crashed and burned, flew away to Greenbriar where P was living…just disappeared for a week or so.

I got an apartment…famous, now, for it’s Wall Art, and it’s Wild, Multicultural Strangeness….and Shroomsicles! I met K when she was living on my couch…along with J and Sh, who were also surfing… it was the same Rescuing a Damsel Business…I adopted her, as one would a Pet. I really loved her, and I think she really loved me…but it was always a weird mixture of Pet/Master, Crazy Person/ Sane Codependent….and , for once, I got to play the Sane One.

The school tried to fuck me with a fine print dildo, and I gave in, weary of the chase for something I didn’t really believe in(Degree…Career…). The Band was no more…and I was itching for Art, for an escape from Shitkicker University.

K fancied herself an artist, as well…(and I came to believe it)…so off we went. Sold the van for a Toyota, and went. The Cops were noticing me, too…so it was high time.

Austin Texas…after the Armadillo, and at the beginnings of it’s Yuppie Invasion. Timing is, indeed, everything.

My last paycheck from H-Ville bounced…but only after we had written checks for rent, groceries, electricity,…Catastrophic “Theft By Check”. We lost the apartment(and the Monster Set of Encyclopedia Britannica), and moved into a series of Roach Motels, and Public Parks. Then we moved in with “Ze Little Black Boy”, in Queerville, next to Jimmy the Queen…and then we got married.

I had been attempting, for these 2 years, to leave the Road behind. In Austin, I was trying to be respectable, keep a job…I had hoped that Austin would , finally, be the place I would Fit….that would Fit me. This was not to be. My Mom helped us buy a trailer house…cheaper than rent…then I got arrested. A $20 check had been overlooked, and the Law was after me, again. We were still reeling from the whole Bouncing Paycheck-thing, and the added costs of restitution, lawyer, fines…then the Parking Tickets…then the towing…then the repossession of the car….and on top of all that, K was a Stray Magnet…more aptitude even than me for attracting the Dregs and Flotsam of society. The trailer Park, and our house, became a waystation for whole herds of Freaks, Geeks and Drifters…basket cases, all. There were ordinary trailer trash, hippies, street people, a Roofer, Lost Children (all over 18, thankfully), Cab Mike, Couch Phil, and on and on. I was the Chairman to this Circus(legs), just watching the Crazy like it was a TV movie. Sex, Drugs, Drink, a Quiet Madness settled over me.

On the rare night when nothing was ‘happening’, we’d lie there with the windows open, and listen to the sound of sirens. K, being from Southern California, identified it as “Sweeps”…cops, going through neighborhoods, looking for Gangbangers.

For me, the Walls closed in. Agoraphobia, that I’ve suffered from ever since, set in. I was drinking, a lot…and both me and K were fucking around…

The opportunity came to move everything out to Mason…and, after a time of finagling, I won out, and we went.

K lasted a year, out here on the Fringes of the world. I was, as far as I knew then, Fully Off the Road. She couldn’t handle it…tried to start up the whole Trailer Park Scene…and I finally let her go. She likely still hates me for this.

Buddy M, who had been having his own psychological issues, had been staying with us for a while; working on the Farm…trying to repair his Soul with work and isolation. I was fully into my Bi Period…K didn’t seem to mind, as she had her share(and came out as a Lesbian, after the divorce!)..Buddy was my sometimes thing, and Just like with the whole Knight Errant Bit, I now…with hindsight…see this in context with all the rest. I was tired of wimmenfolk, and had always been open to ‘outside the box sexuality. So we attempted to “be Gay”…for about a month. I found that I couldn’t cuddle with someone with facial hair….I was only interested in one part of preferred Woman Parts. So he moved on…and I quickly found more Damsels to Rescue. More Drink, More Drugs, More Driving all night on Endless Highways…never enough money…and always too much Loneliness and Heartbreak.

RB was the last Damnsel…and she was a doozy. Used me up…Hooked me…I almost didn’t survive her….the Cops, the crazy violent boyfriends,the Wildness was over the top, even for me. (I had ‘forgotten’…more like Fully Suppressed…Her…She was lost, out there in the World , somewhere).

Then I met my Final Wife,(touch wood), and immediately realized she was different. T wasn’t so obviously Crazy, for one.(everyone has their demons).We’ve been married for nigh on 13 years, with 2 boys…and, although we will probably always be Po Folk, I am Happy, with her.

It hasn’t been easy. My Past, it seems, still had Invisible Hooks and Tentacles embedded in me. Since my Disability,(is it really 6+ years?...) I’ve been studying…Everything….including Psychology, especially Jung…and trying to Kill Off the Wild Years…the drink…(drugs were never my real problem…it was the drink)

….And I couldn’t.

There was something I was overlooking….we tried everything…

Then, a year ago, I found Her, online.

The trip to Dallas to meet Her…and especially the return trip…was an Epiphany in the Making….I told T the whole sordid tale…the Memory Blocks dissolved…and it was Epic. T said it was ‘like a movie’…

I have thought, just a little more often, about Her in the year since…and 2 weeks ago, the last bit of Wall crumbled in place. I remembered the betrayal, in Surround Sound, 3 D…with such Clarity…it was like being there, in CH’s car…or under the Oak in Nanduhirion…or in Wimberly with L…or a hundred other betrayals, or perceived betrayals…with a hundred other women…all of them made possible by Me…or at least my Subconscious.

I wrote it down, the Beginning…Principiis Obsta;Caveat Ruinam!

A Most Terrible Love….

And drank a gallon of peasant wine, 3 days later.

I listened to all the Forbidden Songs…Vomited my Psychosis all over the world wide web…and, hopefully for the last time, blew out the candle, put Her to Bed…

Heartless Hangover, and although I was ashamed of my Spectacle, I found that I could Remember Her…without the Pain I had carried around all this time, wondering what that Great Weight was…..

De Omnibus Dubitandum, and all… I cannot rest on a bed of Ivy…it is Habit, this Nihilistic Jekyll/Hyde-ism…and will take a lot more “Dealing” with…

But it feels like I may have found the Key.

I have hardly spoken(written..) to Her, since Dallas. Seems She’s worse than me at correspondence…I did manage to go off on Her, incoherently, in a drunken rage…to no good end…just a diffuse madness, directed in Her general direction, without telling Her why…or even knowing, myself…

You see…for all these years, I still don’t know if She ever really Knew how I felt, back then….Too, there was No Closure…She just disappeared….and then , so did I.

As I keep repeating, I do not Blame Her…I understand where She was At…somewhat, then; with Clarity, Now. All these years, when I would pause, and remember Her, think about Her, I would stop before I got to the Painful Parts…as I said, She was the voice in my head…mostly Figuratively, but sometimes in actual fact…

She became the Archetypal “Woman”, a female Elijah, that one habitually sets a place for…the Fons et Origo…and all the Pain and Anger that went with Her came out in Music, Poetry and the Highest Form of Art, the Arc of One’s Life…

My patient Wife know about all this…puts up with my seemingly endless self-psychoanalysis…her first reaction: “Go to Her”.

…Which is completely missing the Point!!!

If She showed up with a million bucks and a 100’ sailboat, I wouldn’t go.

What I am after, here, is Peace. I’d like to get over it, at long last.

I’m hopeful, in fact, that we, She and I, can keep in touch, Platonically. As far as it goes, I genuinely wish Her a Good Life…. It would be wrong of me to lay it all at Her feet.

This Exorcism is about Me…about getting at the Roots of my myriad Psychoses. It wasn’t what She did, after all…rather, it was how I saw it…which I admit, now, was utterly delusional. Although She could have been more clear, and not led me on, I understand. We were Kids…living in Fucked Up circumstances. It feels somewhat crazy to want to Forgive someone who, really, did no wrong…but there it is.

I must Forgive Her, so that I may Forgive myself.

Monday, October 3, 2011

A Most Terrible Love

I first met Her on a hayride, out at my Grandad’s Farm. It was put on by the Catholic Church in Tomball…I was only even a member of the little “Youth Group” to please Grandad…She sat at the back, with me and a few others. I don’t remember any of them. I was, perhaps,15…16; She, a year younger. She held herself apart, aloof;not really trying to be with the others. I sensed a kindred spirit, in this, I guess…because I gravitated to Her. We ended up walking behind the hay trailer, as the sun went down…that white brilliance of the sky at twiglight, early Autumn. Pine trees along one side of the road, we walked along…side by side, then hand in hand. As we neared the house, where the hayride would end, and silly “nice” (church approved) games would ensue, I leaned over and kissed Her…my first time…and She responded. The embrace, the kiss has haunted me since. I don’t remember the games, or even what we talked about on our walk. All that I remember is the feeling…that I had found Her, quite by accident.

I didn’t see Her for years…in fact, I don’t recall the next time. It is all jumbled and melted together in my memory. Images and Feelings and Songs. She had become the stepsister to my best friend, who had moved to Tomball a few years before. I think that’s how we reconnected. At ML’s house, by Spring Creek, I was there, met her Dad(Evil!), ate fried chicken. While waiting for dinner,we listened to music in ML’s room, we had to keep the door open; JS, her dad, didn’t trust a closed door. Something about the Devil…

I remember at dinner, her Dad responded to my comment that she ate like a bird, with “actually, birds eat more than their body weight, every day…” .

All this , and more was somewhat surreal, and not just for me. We went down to the highway, after dinner…where 149 crossed Spring Creek. They were preparing to widen the bridge, and there were great piles of red dirt, all down into the creek hollow…we wandered around, talking about everything, the three of us. This is when She and I determined that we had met, and kissed, before. The Song that was in my head was “Sunset Grill”, by Don Henly….the first time I remember having a song playing in my mind…and the first of many songs, or snatches of song, that invoke Her.

I didn’t see her for a long while, till I moved to Tomball….and then , only rarely. She called me, and said she was at the church (across town), was playing hooky from the classes, etc…and could I come meet her. I walked the 2 miles down the tracks to the Church. She was lurking around the swings and things…We hung out and talked, and even held hands. I wanted a kiss, but she ‘wasn’t in the mood’. I remember it was in Fall of the year, probably November, as the leaves were all gone. The clouds, again at twilight, were dark, Stratus, glowering. We talked about hopping a freight….about how She was trapped, between her insane Dad, and her insane Mom….I told her I was ready, but I guess she wasn’t. It would not be the last time that this abortive escape scenario would play out. Time came, her dad arrived, and I faded into the brush along the tracks for the long walk home.

The next couple of years, I was around her often. Band, the Busrides, the driving around. The parties. We talked for hours on the phone; but she wouldn’t be as close as I wanted. I was “like a brother”, and her best friend. . (we talked about sex, a lot. All her escapades, trysts and affairs…she encouraged phone-sex, of all things, quite often…it had always been a strange relationship)

Her Dad had one of his crazy periods, and she moved back with her Mom, and to another school district. She would call me, and sneak out her window…I would come, every time…stealing my dad’s jeep…and off we’d go. Just driving…and drinking, but not really to excess…once, again, in the Fall, we went to Galveston. 100 miles. Crossing over the ship channel bridge, windows down, Bruce Hornsby and the Range were on the radio…”every little kiss”…she looked at me, and asked if we could run away together. I said yes, but after tonight. This sparked a change in her…a distancing…and I knew I had said the wrong thing. We finally got to Stewart beach, and got out, walked. It was cold and windy…salt spray stinging..her hair whipping around. She walked off, saying she wanted to be alone. I could see her, in the yellow light of the sodium lamps, staring out to sea…and my heart just about broke. When she came back, I could see that she was crying…said she wanted to get away so badly..crazy parents, and all.

Later on she called me again, said she wanted to drive around, so I went to get her. I didn’t realize that she was so drunk till later…she wheedled me into driving past band practice…to look for “Joel”, the tuba guy who had dumped her…and brought on the almost suicidal binge she was on. Screwdrivers. About a minute later, she puked all over me and the jeep. I kept driving, holding her head out the window, trying to get her home (her mom was out of town). We arrived, and I carried her in, put her on her bed, and tried to keep her from asphyxiating…puke, everywhere. She was passed out, by now.

I had to do something. I got her undressed, save for her panties…and I must insist, I was the picture of a gentleman; I did not “take advantage”…I somehow got her into the shower, and cleaned up…and back to her bed. Everything was calm, now…the immediate danger was over…although I watched her closely. I rummaged around and found the number to her best friend…who rushed over, and helped me with her and with the cleaning.

She asked later if I had “copped a feel” and I said, truthfully, that no, that would have been unethical (I am a somewhat rare bird)…but that I got a really good look. She seemed to indicate that this was my reward for chivalry, and pecked me on the cheek.

Soon after, her mom was gone, again…and CH and me were over there, swimming, and drinking her mom’s bud. Ch was “invited” into the house…and I was not. I was already buzzed…and that’s the day I started smoking. CH had Marlborough lites in his ancient station wagon. I chugged beers and smoked till I was sick…and made a fool of myself, when they were “done”. I said inopportune and hurtful things and CH got me out of there.

Soon after,a week?... I got a call, from a pay phone by her mom’s. She had run away, and was on the side of the road….band bag full of shoes, but no underwear. I, of course, went to rescue her.It was, by now, my Function. We went to ground at CH’s apartment, ML was there (his mom and JS had divorced), and we tried to figger out what to do. I wanted to collect her and go…go find a ship to stow away on…anything. ML’s mom called, said that JS had ‘called the dogs’. Turned out that JS’s brother was police chief! They were after me and her, and I was to be charged with statutory rape…for which there is no real defense….and Kidnapping. To ML’s mom’s we went, the three of us.It was safe haven. We spent most of the night there, while cops circled, and ML’s mom talked to JS on the phone. I got a reprieve, I could go…but I was not to contact her, ever.(this incident got me on the radar of the cops, for Tomball, Magnolia, Montgomery and Northern Harris Counties. When I helped Zig’s girlfriend, later, it just added to it. I was , and remain, a Pariah)

I quit school, in april of my senior year… too much bullshit…the rules, the boredom, the punitive dhalls, and iss.(I never went to dhall, and ended my HS career with a record 165 hours due of dhall, as well as 3 weeks due of iss, if I hoped to graduate.) She was back living with her dad…but the school knew…everyone seemed to know. I had my first girlfriend, P, by this time. We got an apartment, with CR(yet another waif in need of rescue), and settled into a kind of groove. The first time I did acid, P didn’t know…and I spent a horny, crazy night next to her. Next day, I skipped work, as I was still tripping, a little. P went on into her job…and She called me. I told her about the acid, and we talked about many things. Sex , as was usual, came up I asserted that it wasn’t fair, her fucking everything that moved, except me…who had always been there for her. By this time , she was engaged to an army nut, who had daddy’s approval. She said that if I came over, she’d fellate me…but I couldn’t have anything else, because her fiancée would smell it.(I intuited that he made an “inspection” whenever he picked her up). Of course, I went right over. She wanted a bag of weed for this service; and I promised her one.(I betrayed her, in that, I guess….as it was dirt weed). I was too nervous to consummate, and settled for holding Her nakedness close to me for a while. P never knew about this (sorry,P).

Soon after, She was gone. Married to the army dude, living on the other side of Houston….no one would tell me how to contact her. I lost track, until a few years later…in the middle of my Wild Years…I remember crossing the , then brand new beltway 8 bridge…the high bridge… over the ship channel, in the fog…me and Sam, my now long deceased Road Buddy…somehow, I had found her phone number, in Deer Park. We showed up after midnight, drunk, just in from Lousyanna…and I was bitter, drunk and mean.

That’s all I remember of that, our last encounter…and in the years since, I have thought of Her, often…wondering where in the wide world She was…no one would tell me…and, on occasion, I would pause…when the moon was right, or the dawn, or the sunset…the smell of the air…and remember….longing…grasping at memories, wanting to return, and try again…

I found her on Facebook…last year...and took my wife and kids to Dallas to meet her. She’s living in London, now….when she’s not traveling the world with her job…

This was a hard meeting, for me. I love my wife…but there will always be that something….that feeling of something missed, let slip…I can’t listen to music, unless I’m drunk…because so many songs remind me of Her. Almost all the girls I’ve bedded and fell in love with have been Her surrogates. The pattern of my love affairs follows that unrequitedness, that quixotic tilting, that was set in stone with Her. I see that certain quality of light in the Autumn sky, wind in the dry grass on a hillside, and I think of Her…almost unconsciously, now…20 years later.

I am haunted by an undefined longing, and shapes in the fog of my memory….for my life is filled with mists…so much drink and drugs and Wildness…and how much of this was to suppress this longing?

The songs I wrote, although they were ‘dedicated’ to P, or Margie or Janet, were to Her…the mental interlocutor I habitually carry around in my mind, discussing the world…has been Her….or her avatar…

The only memories that are absolutely clear…unfogged…are those with Her…I remember those times as if they were this morning.

I am writing this for my own reasons…as a sort of exorcism. There is no malice in my intentions, only catharsis. For nigh on 25 years She has been a part of my unconscious mind…and now that I have found her…I must let Her go, at last. This terrible Love, that I have borne for what seems like centuries, I must lay down. Believe me, that I wish Her nothing but happiness….and always have…even when I hated Her for not choosing me…

When the pain I felt was so overwhelming that I thought that I must die….after 25 years, I can finally speak and write and think…and not fall out of the world.