Cap In Hand

Betwixt the lines,
Of self and hate:
A mood declines,
And can’t abate,
Implication steady,
Cap in hand,
Arise already,
And make thy stand!
Behind is done.
Tomorrow is new,
The learned have won,
This moral true:
A disparaging down;
Breeds only a rise.
To shout through town,
“I wear no disguise!”
Behold I parry!
What foes presume,
And again contrary,
To normal views.

Returning The Serve

Hello again my dear friend,

I have had a hard time writing. Things are a bit blocked-up or clogged in my brain. Lately, I’ve been feeling the pinch of urgency and the rapid need for progress. I’m making steps, just in my own way and time; that’s got everyone a bit nervous that I might somehow find this proxy living situation to be permanent. That I may want for stagnation, and make no progress advancing my goals. I endeavor to avoid this doom, but I remind myself that I face it, which can drive down my mood. AND that last sentence incorporated “doom” followed by its anagram. Thanks, I’ll be here all week.

Your words this time around I found particularly inspiring. Driven with the cause of desire. Propagated and externalized with the insistence of a plea. I’m humbled by your concern, which is far more then I feel I deserve. I sense that my life’s pendulum antics have given rise to a common feeling; we both possess the ability to experience it. What we do from here, at the pint of recognition, is the key. Either I can start doing battle with this thing, or I can supplicate and let it own me. I’ve been fighting hard against the desire to cave-in and surrender. It’s harder when I truly detest myself and wouldn’t mind it if I was dead.

It’s a road rife with peril: but it’s the one I’m bound to in this life. I’m not a strong-enough person to pull myself free of the calamity… I soldier on with well-dipping hopes regardless.

I will take to heart and hold on to the words and suggestions you have given me. I especially appreciate the Church of Billy Joel. I am The Stranger.

What is important is that you care, and it is your intention to see nothing but benefit come of this exchange. I wholeheartedly agree. I can see no better use for a friendship that to stimulate and encourage the growth of life, peace, prosperity from said arrangement. This seems to be your objective as well as mine, which is a find-and-dandy thing to have in common. Since we pursue goals, our struggle with no doubt be festooned with plagues and peril, but it’s too good to not fight for.

I find myself at a loss to continue, only because I have no direction for which to take the discourse. My struggles will continue much as they have for weeks, until I am strong enough to have and keep a job, and provide. I am a ways off from that objective, mostly because my mental health has to be rebuilt from shambles. But I’m still here. Still fighting.

If you have a question that you’d like to have answered, feel free to inquire. I am an open book. I’ve recently become friends with a new person with the same name as my ex wife. Nice? She’s kind and listens. Seems interested in casual sex as friends but I’m terribly unsure if this is a good idea. I yearn for something that feels good, but at the same time, recognize my state as fragile. Thankfully, none of this is a secret to her. Being aware of the problem helps to make with the intelligent decisions.

Well. It’s morning and I am drinking my coffee in my humble tent-like abode. I have a busy end of the week coming up here. Good. Busy means no time for unwanted creepy thoughts to get back in. I plod on. One little footstep in front of the other to success.


Rocks came out the tumbler today. They look pretty sweet. Lots of color.

IMG_0052 IMG_0054

I also reinstalled Total Annihilation with the Unit Compilation Pack. I’ll let you know once I actually play a game. Rumor has it: TA is really hard and I’m not mad skills enough to make much progress against the AI. It seems to use the new units well. More betters then me does.


It’s a mercurial world I reside in; the temper of which is inexplicable. My desires and intentions are muddied and lost in the still clear pond water of my consciousness. Somewhere along the way, I get turned in to a frog or some other undesirable, or the language in which escape is written becomes an illegible scrawl on the side of a cave. I’m both agitated and befuddled. Both culprit and clown. There is no end to the axial dysfunction, so why not stretch the thing as far as it will go? An offer coded in the temptation of despair. I am banished to the oubliette of want.

In times such as these, I find myself at a loss to initiate progress. JUST THE THING that might help stem the tide of rage; perplexed, forsaken, and used to further bludgeon my state into a wallowing mire of despair. I find no solace in accomplishment, only an insistence that it was not done soon enough, or done too late for it to be of any worth. So there you have it. Logical mind poisoned. Spreading malicious filth wherever it goes.

This is my escape. My outlet in words. So that somehow, someway, you might hear me. You might just hear the heart being ripped free of my body. You might be privy to the collapse of my will. Ambition might finally turn to arrogance. Love might go away and not look to be found again.

It’s a good thing I’m loved. Otherwise, the hell I experience as part of my life would be unusually unbearable. My parents saved me, and continue to do so despite my attempts to wriggle free. I have nothing I can give back to them. I’m temporarily useless. Saturated in guilt.

For the immediate future, I have booked items that are to require my attention. I have a reminder app that tells me what I have still to do. I look at it every day. Some things are easier to handle than others. At this uncertain juncture, I appeal to mercy to show me some way to get my head back where it belongs. Grounded firmly in a variety of reasoning that is unlikely to lead me to suicide, or nagging thoughts therein. Unworthy and temperamentally unwanted, I strive for something better than what is. Consistently endeavoring to be alive again. With help. I just might get there.


I’m stuck in a bad place. I have vivid thoughts of hatred permeating my every action. Sulking, head down, loping along like a diseased animal, I pathetically wait for death. My courage is frail and my will to survive is all but whisked away like so much unwanted dust. Trying to combat, I vary approaches to tasks, introduce new elements but to no real avail. I still stagnate. Hating myself. HATING. I’m lost in dread, obscured by pain. I’m driven to write, only that there be some break in the monotony of feelings overloading me. There is nothing to hold on to. So I fall.


Notwithstanding change
Bring me words, tastes
The dire emblem forgotten
Placid on the row of dreams
Bitterly clutching remember me’s
Of bygone eras opened to love
Scuttled on sorrow
Blasted by disdain
Chimney soot ridden
Old elephant memories
Arrogantly abated
By the riggers of time
But where does trouble end?


I had to bail on last night’s get-together. It got to be after 8 and I was feeling very exhausted. I couldn’t imagine being MORE tired later and need to drive home still. So, I had to put the kibosh on that plan. I take the Doxepin in the evening, and it usually knocks me out right before bed-time. So I would have had to postpone taking my antidepressant until much later in order to stay out and play. I was weighing things and it was not looking like a smart decision to go. Too many unfriendly variables involved. I feel sad for having missed a chance to be social, but then again, this recovery has to happen on my terms, and being a good steward to myself and my mental health is the top priority. Nothing I do from here on out can be based on anything less than that absolute ultimatum. That’s going to limit my options, yes, but in the end, it’s only symbolic of my whole life. I’m a limited person, reduced in full capacity and to be handled with care. I have been through many hands, and no one wants to hold on for long. So, this too contributes to a desire for limited contact. I can’t be who you want me to be, so why are we still pretending I can be?

Jax had good reasons for jumping ship. I’m not saying that it was the right choice, but it had reasons for being done the way it was done. There’s this guy who came to my peer group last time named Robert. He was looking for family member support because his wife has major depression. So, he wanted to learn as much as he could about mental illness and how he could help his partner. Because he loves her, and continues to keep her in his thoughts and concerns. And this mental health / depression “thing” was just a difficult obstacle that they had to overcome as a team going forward in life.


HOW THAT SEEMS ALMOST ROMANTIC in light of my own struggles. I’d date that guy.  Seriously though, my partner got scared of the reality of my mental illness, and abandoned me. This guy’s wife is sick, and he wants to learn how to help, while mine wants to run the fuck away. It really brings to light how much I despise my ex for cheating and quitting on her life with me. What a fucking coward you are Jax! I think that goes without saying, and many other slanderous things could be said, but won’t be.

I have only the evidence of people who are actually trying to have better lives around me to guide my continued steps. As I struggle, I see how the world is different, how it is still the same, but most importantly, how I need to adjust to be a part of it once more. I feel like I need to be in a much bigger hurry than I am. But I’m only going to get up to speed again if I can roll along for a while here and accumulate some velocity. YOU KNOW?


I’m fine with that. It is not possible to heal any faster then it’s going to take to get better. I have a Dept. of Rehabilitation intake on the 29th, which will mark the beginning of the Lone Bull Project objective of exploring employment opportunities a reality. I need to go at a decent speed, one that will not make me feel like shit for how I am bound to do things. I am attempting to avoid major mistakes, and continue to evolve as a person. The principles of my Project are around to guide me, which helps my success-oriented goals become real. I have compassion, understanding and the freedom to heal. Living my life with whom I can and with love I treasure; I could not ask for a better place to re-acquire my sea legs. As it were.