Operation: RESCUE

She was in need of rescue from a not-so-great area of town at 1 am. So, I went out and saved the day. Truth be told, I’m more concerned with my restful sleep than I am with my desire to ignore her cries for help, malice there entwined. I COULD have said: fuck it. And I would have been in my right to do so.

Ultimately, she’s just another person asking for help and in my limited capacity, it made me feel good to DO SOMETHING. Even if there was no logical gain. I got her to the apartment, were she can sleep. And therefore, I can rest easy. I’m an absolute ass, until needed! So Huzzah!

Will has all but stopped talking to me. Not sure what I did there, if anything. Hopefully he reads this and goes: “hey, I’ve neglected that fucking dude for too long.”

I was also thinking: hey, this isn’t so bad, this whole life/living shtick. Not too shabby, considering where I WAS HEADED.

As for Jax: she has no solid plan. Her circle of work-friends has utterly crumbled under the strain she placed on those flimsy relationships. Her mom is petitioning a return to Florida. Yikes. Now disowned and bitter, she has no one left to turn to, save the puppy who won’t stop following her around town. No else is likely to cooperate or help her. There’s gossip, and innuendo, and rumor in the place of good, effective communication between people. It’s a drama-filled existence that suits me not. She has no place for the cats to go… bonus? Which means on Tuesday, I have to take them to the Humane Society. I will also be recycling a great deal of her stuff. Tupperware drawers, miscellaneous nick-knacks all going the way of the fire. Purged clean, hopefully leaving the apartment spotless and ready for new people to live in. And our deposit back. Digits-crossed.

Without the memories, this whole thing would be done by now. Hard work, yes, but feelings make that work even brutal with their nagging, useless contributions. It’s so clear to me how she does not look at me with love anymore, even after my shiny rescue was complete. I could feel her awkwardness, her struggle for understanding. Between the sniffles and sobs… she found answers the easy way: looking to dramatic change, dependence on others and disregard for doing the things we would have needed to do to fix our mutual lives. Alas. None of that will ever be.

I have some hard decisions to make coming up here. Tuesday the awning-room arrives, so I will finally have a place to set up shop and get working on an individually managed space. This should help correct the identity-breakdowns I’ve been having lately.

So, 1 – 2 am rescues are a welcome way to build reputation and merit as an not-asshole person. Maybe someone other than the Three Bailey-teers will go forward having figured that out.


The times are changing without me these days. I’ve rendered very little raw decision-making power on my life, but, holy crap, how the circumstances change. After 2 relationships that fell apart around my hospitalizations, I get the hint, be sane and get the girl; be yourself and die alone. My wife of VERY NEARLY 1 year has abandoned our relationship. though we are still legally married, she refuses to have anything to do with me, and sleeps with another man, and has gone on as if there were no reason to give a shit about me, or my plight. Truth be told, it was not a story told from the perspective of one who is right, and one who is wrong: its guarded secret misgivings and circumstantial arguments that led to this catastrophic breakdown. I had NO designs for things to end up this way. I just wanted my life back, with my lovely partner, and my 2 snuggly kitties. All of that is gone now.
In short (for the telling of it oft dredge the creeks of peaceful thoughts with raking machinery of judgment): We had minor issues. Problem there, is minor issues become large problems if they never get talked about or addressed. Communication between the two of us has always been an issue. She doesn’t like to listen, or be told things (whether helpful or not). Talking about a disagreement or situation or feeling would often result in her entering “lockdown mode,” where talk became useless because she refused, simply fuming within, like a tea kettle on the heat. I was often promised “we’ll talk about it later,” or, “just leave me alone. I’m only going to get angry if you keep pushing me to talk,” which was fine (I guess), only that resolution (or attempts at it) occurred 1/3 of the time. The other times were simply ignored, or neglected utterly, and still, not addressed. I could have put more effort into understanding her, and her way of coping with things. FUCK. Even as I say that, I’m not sure what the hell else I needed to do, besides show myself to be willing to work things out, talk, share, sympathize compassionately, and get on with life. It’s not as though I NEVER tried, I did. It doesn’t work unless BOTH parties agree, working things out and talking is a good idea, and leads to more good things, rather then bad stuff lingering, unresolved, waiting.

This lack of mutual ambition towards relationship goals was the root of the problem. That, and I don’t know if Jax actually understands what being married is all about. There’s spoken commitment (worth as much as its corresponding deeds), but nothing compares to making a LEGAL and BINDING contract to represent your dedication to the long-term relationship. Taking that step means: hey, I like you. We should be partners in life for as long as we are both here, alive, and stuff, forever. At least, THAT’S WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR WHEN I SIGNED THE MARRIAGE LICENSE.  I can imagine no better way of living than to spend my life with you there to help me. BOOM. I mean, right? Isn’t that the objective or desire when marrying someone?
But I was wrong, because I think of relationships not as an errant grocery bag dancing between cars on the interstate… I think of it as a wall. Solid. Strong. Pure. True. Just. Lean on your wall, because it is strong, and built to endure.
I honestly think: that she had a lot of built-up resentment from not having her issues addressed. Then, I got fat (er), and she quit being sexually interested in me. COINCIDENCE?  Then, when tensions began to mount, she only contemplated how to run away, get free, break out of her relationship, so something easier, superficial and impermanent would come along to make her feel happy again. She admitted to loving me less than I love her. She admitted before leaving me in the lurch, that she often contemplated leaving the relationship.  I guess she ultimately wanted something that forced a relationship to begin-again, going through that puppy-love phase where the guy fucking you can do no wrong, and is a savior from the hell you were just recently enduring, and has brought you happiness (at least, for now). Brilliant.
What bothers me is that nothing here has been addressed. Memo to guy who is fucking Jax currently: If you sit down with her, and let her become a part of your life, TAKE HEED OF THESE WORDS. You will certainly want to know this shit before you decide, like I did, that she is the one. She may go on not addressing her own issues for some time. Currently, I believe her to be in stark denial about what is healthy, good, right, and what is garbage. She has made some major decisions lately. Life changing and irreconcilable. She will do so at the whim of a spark. If you can somehow get her to open up and be somewhat introspective of herself, then hey, you did what I could not. Go for it tiger, you earned it.
She looks at me with eyes clouded by hate, resentment, frustration. So, I’m naturally the target of a lot of bad press. Which is fine, because I feel like I deserve some/most of that. But we here at my blog are concerned with presenting a balanced view of life, its struggles and tribulations: so all words must be said, and learned from.
Ask yourself, guy who is fucking my wife, has anything been resolved? She might be falling in love over again, but what’s to say the same lack of communication I experienced will be true for you? Maybe you are the perfect dude, and can give her anything she wants to keep her happy. Maybe you will have better luck trying to cage the Birdy than I did. But I really doubt you are a “better” guy than I am. I’m a spectacularly intelligent rarefied wacko. I find it hard to believe you are anything more then a hard-cock and a cute face. Your time in the sun is fading fast.
For my part, I see that my communication skills are still TRYING to do their thing. I just need someone who will actually play the introspective understanding game, and try to be good at it. Jax is a poor role model for good mental health. Drinking regularly is a great way to ruin your medication’s benefits. So, not sure what the master plan is over there in “betrayal-ville” but it’s your life to sail away in, or scuttle. I’m always going to be here, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst for you.
For the future: I need to be EVEN MORE CLEAR about what mental illness entails (for me), and what to expect from someone who struggles actively as I do. I have all the right pieces to make a great relationship work, for the long-haul; my perspective then only enhanced by the addition of another who can help me navigate these treacherous seas. In the famous words of one cancer-stricken multi-billionaire engineer S.R. Hadden: “Wanna’ take a ride?”


Toto – Africa

I hear the drums echoing tonight
But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation
She’s coming in twelve-thirty flight
Her moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation
I stopped an old man along the way
Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies
He turned to me as if to say: “Hurry boy, it’s waiting there for you”

It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

The wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what’s right
Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what’s deep inside, frightened of this thing that I’ve become


I don’t think I can forgive you for leaving me when and how you did. I don’t forgive you for abandoning me, and our life together. I don’t forgive your inability to communicate your feelings. I don’t forgive your lack of patience, your instincts to burry your issues, your constant lack of curiosity about me; your world. I don’t forgive you fucking another guy while we are married. I don’t forgive you. I hold you responsible for the part you played in the disaster you helped create. I don’t forgive you for breaking my heart. You deserve nothing, because you had no regard for me. You are not forgiven for betraying your vows. You are not forgiven for hurting my family.

I do not expect you will ask. But just in case you do: you are not forgiven.

Friends In Mind

Smile, it’s a new day.

I had the most upsetting dream last night. We were all kids/young teens in Jamul again. I received a cryptic, emotional handwritten letter from you and I was trying to figure out what it meant. I kept trying to find you to talk to you about it, but no one knew where you were. The last time we had seen you was at a party.

Then somehow I found you at the house where the party had been. You were in a bathroom, standing in a claw foot tub completely clothed, and you had the letter in your hands. Your arms were cut and even though you were dead, you were awake and speaking to me. I don’t remember what you said but I know you were alive, even though you were dead. The letter had been a suicide note.

It was like a flashback in the dream, telling me the truth of your whereabouts, and I was devastated and refused to believe it. I felt responsible.

I went to the fire station and police station to get as much information as I could about possible deaths or medical aid calls from the night of the party. I can’t remember now if in my dream I was able to get any information. I think it was just a wild goose chase, and that the flash of a moment of seeing you dead was the truth.

I woke up feeling like it was all too real. And I felt the weight of that guilt and responsibility as I got out of bed. Because I hadn’t emailed you lately. Because of the suicides in the past that I irrationally felt like I could have prevented.

I hope this email doesn’t trigger any negative or uncontrollable feelings in you because I know you are vulnerable, but I had to let you know because I know I don’t have my vivid and meaningful dreams for nothing. I needed to reach out to you and let you know that I care.

Your friend,






Hey, sounds like a premonition to me. March 3rd.

You need not feel any way at all on my behalf. I have suffered devastating pain, to the point of designing to take my life, and endured. The bomb dropped on me AFTER the hospitalization was an agonizing revelation, and yet, I still remain. Struggling, albeit. I’ve felt my will to live shake back to it’s core. Doctors in the hospital told me repeat suicide attempts are 55% more common if you take anything but Lithium. It’s a shocking world we live in, full of eccentric trajectories and hyperbole of the literal. It makes no good sense, but I’m not the judger-version of myself anymore. I’m a leaf on the wind.

Don’t take any of my life’s destruction onto yourself. Hasn’t this calamity hurt us all enough? Haven’t we given due suffering to these events, and now, represent a period of transition from, up and towards the real? Sobering, yes. Feeling infantalized, gut-shot, ponderously slow and completely retarded on a rotating short-shuffle playlist in my head which cycles randomly, but more often than not. I’m looking for anchors which I can lash myself down to something concrete, stable; where I can ivy-creep my way into a new mode of life. I don’t know what I’m doing, most of the time. Everyone takes me so fucking seriously. I really need some unconditional love to please stand up, please stand up, please stand up.

I’m going to be ok. I can’t say I’ve thought much about my dreams. This new Depression medication when taken at bed time ensures a good night’s rest, and seems to nuke dreamland into a barren-state. Which is good. Dreams are more often of your ilk, in nightmares, which then become all too real and totally inescapable. I have felt my body die in “dreams” before. I felt them come to take my soul away from my body and then I woke up. It made a noise, like lots of voices all making a note together. A single, ominous note, full of their screaming, increasingly louder.  Perhaps I should tall you about the Ghost sometime. And how it tries to kill me.

Wearing my Asshat

I am such a fool. But hey, that’s not going to fundamentally change. I like being a bit askew, makes me feel different. I thought about using this post to belittle myself further over how my relationship deteriorated and is now dead. But this, we already know. We are aware of the circumstances. I’m making progress, not looking back.

Her story has been tough to endure, mostly because I’m just SUCH an asshole to her. I’ve never seen anyone go from one extreme to the other as fast as she had, AND TO MAKE PROFOUND JUDGMENTS ALONG THE WAY! Here I was thinking Cavalry Archers had the hardest job. Wrong. It’s you.

But whatever. It just means, she quit on this life. That’s all it will ever mean anymore, because every other emotion and statement tied up in her betrayal hurt too badly to deal with regularly and also have no logical reason to exist for as long as they seem to endure. We’ve collectively moved on. Which is a good thing, because there are still a ton of new things to do in this life. I am currently:

-Becoming a regular Bass Angler

-Engaging my peer community in weekly meetups

-Staying vigilant with appointments

-Keeping a positive attitude despite it all


I won’t deny my inward spiral has been largely negative. Self hate mired in pity doth not oft lead to the good. So I got out of that.

One thing I want to be clear about though is that I’m sacrificing my self-image in order to continue on leading my life. So while you WILL have a chance to hear my wife cry “rape” and belittle me as an objectifying testosterone-driven moron, you will not hear me strike back. I won’t dignify the assault on my reputation, because I know it’s what she needs to have be true, so she can justify her adultery to herself. If I’m a bad man, I probably deserve to be cheated on. I mean right? I’m already an ass, so it’s ruined either way. Why not pile on the shit to the wagon?

In other words, I’m just “over” it so I can move on and get to posting about my Angling adventures or any number of new face/place I encounter along the way. Already actively looking for a new “someone” to be the person (peer) I relate to on my issues and tribulations. And getting results, as the search deepens.

So below is a reblog of her most recent post, just so you have an idea about what a true rat-fucker I am.

Self Prescribed Creativity

Funny how things and people react. I’ve been speaking my mind on the internet for this long I’ll surely not stop now despite the fragile complex of certain people in my life. Knowing perhaps that certain things I say and talk about may offend others is simply something unavoidable. I speak my mindless regardless. And it is my mind.

I’m finding myself looking back on my marriage and dissecting the relationship. Being in the midst of an odd friendship with a man I of course find myself comparing from time to time. Mostly in the ways I’m treated. I’ve realized that in my past I haven’t required a certain level of treatment for myself. I’ve been stuck in a rut of relationships where I’m not treated as a woman but as a sexual object. I feel anyway. My last relationship for example. I used to be greeted everyday by my…

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Able and lost to–
Sallow days down.
Returning only sorrow
Baked by summer suns.
There turns a daemon.
Etched in bone while
Hot hands contemplate the
Stabbing way of death.
Guided in reality, unknowingly
Dangerous as a house cat
And silent as the floor.
Be a while, change
Suffering way of living
Ebbed and flowed the last
Misguided and misunderstood
A perseverance of failed lines–
Through the sand of time

Marking posts
Beguiled by rhyme
Turn from their duties
To torment mine.

The Ugly, The Bad, And The Ugly

Talk about flinging some poop, I sent this innocuous letter out today, and earned the following replies on Facebook:



adsfasrhgsgfghbfjgj kjg













You’re The Only Woman – Ambrosia

**For You.


Oh baby… say now you,
You talk about the things I do…
But baby, I yeah I’ll try an’ explain the reasons why
‘Cause I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout the things that we said late last night
When every word I said just didn’t come out right
And you were so afraid that I’d found someone new
But darlin’, well, there’s no need for what we’re goin’ through

Because you and I’ve been in love too long
To worry ’bout tomorrow
Here’s a place where we both belong
I know you’re the only woman that I’m dreamin’ of
You’re the only woman that I really love

Baby, see what a foolish heart has done for me
Darlin’, why yeah would you break my heart and make me cry?
Well now, you can’t go back and change the way things are
And all this, this foolish talk won’t take us very far
And so I hope you’re listenin’ ’cause I’m tellin’ you
About the, the way I feel and what I’m goin’ through

Because you and I’ve been in love too long
To worry ’bout tomorrow
Here’s a place where we both belong
I know you’re the only woman I’ve been dreamin’ of
(You’re the only woman that I’m dreamin’ of)
I say, you’re the only woman that I really love
(You’re the only woman that I really love)




So there. I’m going to get through this and get on to a better state. It’s going the right direction now. Plus, maybe I will make some totally helpful friends along the way who can coach me and help me feel better. I’m going to get back to my MH blog that I go to when in crisis. I’ll have a link up as soon as I get settled.

I just want to thank the family members and friends who have made this dreadful trial bearable with their love, compassion and support. Still have a long way to go, but making progress.




Burn the Heritics!!

I am one to judge. And many other notable flaws. Struggling with this brain-sickness is truly hopeless. It changes and gets worse right when things seem to flatten out. Then I lose everything in a meltdown and have to go rebuild it all over again. I like playing with LEGOS… but not the part where I build the Space Shuttle to scale with 1×1 cubes and YOU come along and flatten it for fun and mandate a rebuild post-haste. I like the part where I earn a “nice work” type comment when I get done. But hey, we don’t ever really get what we want: like stability, forgiveness and understanding. Clearly too much to ask of others.

I have been pulled free of the casing/shell of my old life. The furniture is gone. The possessions are packed. All that remains is to see her and her things vacate the apartment immediately, then clean, then done. My previous life has paid the way for a new existence, as a side-show attachment to my parent’s RV. I will live in a tent, essentially. WITH FUTON. So, not sleeping on rocks, and whatnot.

For the future: No more letting people get close to you. IT ONLY MAKES THEM HURT AND BETRAY YOU when they find out the reality of how fucking sick you are. They don’t want the “job” of being your hump-puppet-love-mommy. I mean really, who wants to take care of the horny guy with a hamster-wheel for a brain? I can see why this thing has failed me repeatedly, and caused me trauma.

So I enter a long stint of celibate remorseful sulking, which is like to ensnare my progress for a month or more. I intend to rise above the sulking portion and actually get some shit done. But I’m in this for myself. Alone. Not even Will is invited, and he’s easily my best friend. No one who COULD get hurt is allowed anywhere near the reactor. Period fucking end.

1 year of Lonely Bull. Project already 12 days in… some progress measured. Not much. Burt going the right way at least.




I mean, holy shit am I fucking serious? I think things are already headed the “up” flavored direction at this point. Like I noted, the sold furniture covered the cost of the new room in which I am to reside. I am feeling GUILTY for incurring COST on my family unit, as it stands now. I feel bad for that. And I wish myself to just pop right off the pillow and go tear off a piece every single day… but those desires are not realized. I am mired in a murk-tacular muck hell called: neurochemical imbalance. Communication across the synapses is broken, because certain inhibitors are not present, and part of the communication is lost due to this depleted quantity of transmitters looking to be restocked. If the transmitters are inhibited, IN THE NEURAL GAPS between synapses, the complete communication passes through the synaptic gap without integrity loss. The message is essentially, complete as sent, and not compromised. I have NO COMPLETE MESSAGES CAN BE SENT syndrome. In a sense. Since the gaps between transmitters contain a variety of neuro chemicals, the guesswork of science has been, so far, how to individually diagnose and prescribe medications based on 100% new circumstances per diagnosis. It’s also, an uphill battle: in light of the brain’s morphology and neuroplasticity, so too must treatment methods to the individual’s symptoms of mental illness change as the brain does.

It’s taken me a lot of time to think those thoughts. You ever feel just fucking TIRED in your mind? I know the feeling of having my fucking brain muscle strained, ok? It’s like I REALLY REALLY had to cut through the bullshit going on in the background, all the time, in order to get down to a core of reason / worth.

So, one has to be willing to swallow that, as well as any NEW PERMUTATIONS that may arise. I find that unlikely, but STILL WORTH TRYING FOR. Good things are hard to get, but I’ve never given up on anything I truly believed in. Like love.

So it is said.

People Ask Me About My Jesus

And I hate to tell them I failed to water the last Jesus they tried to pawn off on me, and NOW IT’S DEAD. SO THANKS.

I resent being thought of as a Jesus-killing motherfucker. Even if I deserve it. This is the sound of mud hitting me at high speed, directly in the face.

I have potential and purpose. There is a rhyme to the reason! I tell you!

Look at the last two sentences… my words are becoming more mantra-like as this post goes on. Within reason, please.

So, effectively, I resigned myself that some things just die. And I say verily, I am feeling liberated. Today, moving out of the apartment was hard work, but It was JUST work for once. Not a fuck-secks roller-ass-coaster through pain and suffering. Which is meant only to sound undesirable.

Either way I see this, is that I have a chance to embrace a new attitude, and say GOODBYE CARL!

“Hey, where’s my damn cookie?” Said the tapeworm.


I thought my filter was good before. But have hence been proven wrong. NOW NO ONE IS GETTING ON-BOARD THE ERIC-TRAIN. Not no body not no how now go away!

Which is a good policy, but sad. Because being alone is always kinda sad. SAD I TELLS YA. And facing depression, bipolar style, generally being right unpleasant, is best dealt with in tandem. So to does my written thesis prescribe, but all poop-hell breaks loose from time to time. It seems unreasonable to expect anyone in their right mind to DESIRE to TOLERATE a severely mentally ill person. Which is what it is. TOLERANCE. AND PATIENCE. FORGIVENESS. PITY?


I don’t know where to go run. I could kinda go any way, if I can get this donkey-frigate rocking once more! Into the BREACH!

An Email I Sent

I’m not here to argue with you. Yeah, it’s painful. And all the memories that I have to purge, inside-jokes and good smells, like your hair just as you step out of the shower. I miss so many things that are now never coming back. I know I can’t change who you are, or who you have abruptly started being. Its your life. I know that I have no relevance or worth being involved in it anymore. It’s just, over. And I’m stuck here, wishing it was different even though I know it’s gone.

All I know for sure is, I am missing you more then anyone I have ever lost. Ever. I hurt so bad I think It might actually be killing me somehow. I feel rotten inside, all the time.

I will get on with my life. Because I have to, for my own redemption. Though, such a thing is far from happening. I’m just drowning in my pain in the short term. Trying to cope, move on, and do what healthy people do.

But you were my last. I’m just never going to go through this level of hurt again. And not cause someone else the trauma I seem to cause everyone, no mater who I get involved with. So, it was a hell-of-a-way to go out. I guess.

March 2014 Mood Playlist – Flying Away

Colors as Moods:

1. Young Hearts Run Free – Candi Station
2. How Deep Is Your Love – Bee Gees
3. Cruel Summer – Bananarama
4. Hard To Say I’m Sorry/Get Away – Chicago
5. Sacrifice – Sinéad O’Connor (Elton John)
6. Tainted Love – Soft Cell
7. Time – The Alan Parsons Project
8. Rock Of Ages – Def Leppard
9. Sledgehammer – Peter Gabriel
10. The One And Only – Chesney Hawkes
11. Free Fallin’ – Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
12. 49 Bye-Byes – Crosby, Stills and Nash
13. Greed – Godsmack
14. Nursie – Jethro Tull
15. Beautiful Stranger – Madonna
16. Something About You – Level 42
17. Paparazzi – Lady GaGa
18. Keep On Going – Fleetwood Mac
19. Valarie – Steve Winwood

Words for the Wicked

I hope you’re happy
Now that you’re choosing this

(spoken) You too
(sung) I hope it brings you bliss

I really hope you get it
And you don’t live to regret it
I hope you’re happy in the end
I hope you’re happy, my friend:


So if you care to find me–
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
“Everyone deserves the chance to fly!”
And if I’m flying solo,
At least I’m flying free!
To those who’d ground me,
Take a message back from me:
Tell them how I am–
Defying gravity–
I’m flying high–
Defying gravity–
And soon I’ll match them in renown,
And nobody in all of Oz,
No Wizard that there is or was,
Is ever gonna bring me down!

Time – The Alan Parsons Project

Flowing like a river.
Beckoning me…
Who knows when we shall meet again–
If ever.
But time,
Keeps flowing like a river,
To the sea.

Goodbye my love,

Maybe for forever
Goodbye my love,

The tide waits for me.
Who knows when we shall meet again–
If ever.
But time,
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on),
To the sea, to the sea.

Till it’s gone…

Gone forever….
Gone forevermore.


Blasted out the darkest ground
A prism lit in stories, abound
In madness-waged stormy skies
Tears run from his pale blue eyes
Taking gulps of air for breath
Plunging life in regretful death
Held away while on the brink
To choke and vomit into my sink
Waking dead in steep regret
And brushed-aside hurt beset
Pale as a hard fortress wall
Through with this and had seen it all
But scars reveal a secret way
Unencumbered by what to say
The screams now silent, but unknown
To hold them deep in solid stone
I grasp what little there is to say
And sweep up dreams gone far away
Choke down tears and curl-up time
Washing waves of sea and brine
Restore a not that was a new
And learn then thyself a way towards true
Sad sung and wage worn wrung
This is but night, being young
In time a temper turned to fail
A westward wind my heart hath sailed

Ping Pong Plop

JAX to MOO: I know nothing I could say could mend what I’m doing. I’d been going back and forth on myself about staying with Eric only because I valued you and Bill’s relationship so much. I can’t however remain in a situation where my trauma and mental health is in constant battle or put on the back burner. I feel like when I got with Eric I believed him to be a lot more stable than he his. I married him thinking that we would make the last stretch of stability into a real life, and instead I feel he’s only become worse and inconsolable. I will not pretend I don’t know that pain I’m causing because at the same time it kills me to do it. I can not, however, keep taking care of somebody when I myself need the care. Marriage is supposed to be about mutual respect and care, but I feel for a while it hasn’t been that way. I don’t need you to completely understand. Eric needs to be around people far more stable than I. He needs his parents who will continue to love him regardless of anything. All I wanted to make you understand was that I never lied, and I always loved you guys.

MOO to JAX: Jax, I won’t lie…we are all in pain.  My love for you was as if you were my daughter.  Given the nature of both your illnesses, it is not surprising that it would come to a head.  It’s just unfortunate that the communication between you and Eric wasn’t mutually respectful and honest.  I understand that with the trauma you have experienced, you have a difficult time stating your needs and desires until it’s too late.  But communication in any situation is vital if a relationship is to last and thrive.  All that aside, I am dealing with this the best way I know how.  As a family unit, we are strong and we will survive.  Love and family are the key to healing.  I don’t wish any ill for you.  I hope that you, too, find a way to heal and move on.  This is all very sad.  Please let us know if you find a home for the kitties.  We always loved you too.

JAX to ALL: this was my mother in laws response to an email i sent. i find myself a bit angry. it takes two to fucking tango. i didnt just give up.  didnt wait til the last fucking moment to state my needs and desires. i had been for months. ever since he pushed himself on me after i kept saying no, i’d been telling him i needed space because i didnt feel safe. didnt rape me? maybe not, but those moans were ones of discomfort and pain as he entered me when i wasnt prepared and wasnt willing, not of pleasure. time and time again he tried to initiate sex after even though he told me he would let me be the decider. he’d take my hand and try to make me stroke him and when i responded poorly he’d get angry. yell at me about how i didnt want to have sex and it wasnt fair. ask me if i could at least give him a blow job or watch him masterbate. even after saying how uncomfortable it made me feel and how if i said no to sex that meant every aspect he would still get angry and frustrated because i wasnt dealing with anything. my needs were heard but never acknowledged. i was put on the back burner time and time again because my husband wanted an orgasm so bad he couldn’t keep from traumatizing me. i’d begged for months for him to try to get some of his impulses under some sort of control including his sexual ones. yet he’d rather ignore them completely than try to get them under control. he once said if it were up to me making the moves we would never have sex. you just never gave up the control to see. i’m done being controlled and manipulated into love. you can’t alienate me or make me feel lost enough to want to be in a situation where my trauma is used against me. and as for cheating? i asked you for a divorce days before any of it happened. but your lack of acknowledging my pleas are the same ones that convince you i’m some vindictive whore. i don’t care. i’d rather find people i can feel safe with then continue to try to make it work with someone who clearly doesnt want to deal with anything and would rather keep me in a submissive hole.

ME: Um, wow?

NEW: The Lone Bull Project


It’s the title of this part of my life adventure. It’s a time for rebuilding, regrowing, renewing. It’s progress, towards a complete picture f the self. To be the master of The Ghost. I sincerely hope you stay tuned to find out what this entails, and where we have yet to go.


The project began 03-12-14, and expires annually
The project will cost me 75 lbs of my flesh.
The project will bring a new high-fantasy fiction world into existence
The project is for myself, by myself, alone to be won

More details to come. But the countdown has begun, even if the story has not.


**UPDATED 03/17/14
A series of priority-goals are going to be established at reasonable intervals to give structure to a more long-term prosperous living position. And for the immediate future, I have a color-coded spreadsheet with achievable tasks and a record of tasks completed. Incremental steps towards success. It’s only a matter of time before I get my head out the ole butt-chute and on to better things.

In honor of Robert whom I paraphrase: Know that you went out there and gave it your “all.” You went and gave it everything you had to give, every day. You can then walk away from that KNOWING you tried your hardest. Knowing that, rest assured that things will get better over time.

I chose to live a better life. A healthier life. A different life. On my own, for 1 year. AT LEAST one year.


I will be finding out how to be an amazing (it’s AMAZING) person again. How to live stable, happy and alone. To be at peace, and capable of great things once more.

This encapsulates the meaning and value of the project. The timeline is 1 year, at which point the contract will be extended, or cancelled. The contract can only be VETOED with parental consultation and approval.

So, again, still more details to come. But we’re already underway.

My Wishlist – (Pearl Jam + Me)

I wish I was a wholly desirable person. I wish I was free of mental illness forever. I wish I wasn’t so easy to betray. I wish my heart wasn’t so easily won. I wish I could just be 100% done with my love when it dies. I wish I could have someone who would make me feel like I was worth something. I wish I was worth cherishing. “I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once, I could go off.” I wish I was capable, steady and wise. I wish my healthy states were taken seriously, and my insanity taken not so. I wish I had no reason to lose my mind. I wish I had loved my partners better. I wish I wasn’t such an asshole-licking shit-raper. I wish people would get their heads out of their asses and SEE each other clearly. I wish my life was something that it will never be. I wish I could have what I need to thrive, and not be subject to causeless humiliations. I wish I could have sex with someone I love, nearly every day. I wish love was as exciting for me as it would be for my partner. “I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun.” I wish I had the time and patience to write out all my brilliant ideas. I wish people would not just remember the bad, but the good times as well, and weigh them out before making conclusions. I WISH I COULD LIVE THIS LIFE WITH SOMEONE I COULD BOTH LOVE AND GROW WITH. I wish education and “rightness” would rule the day. I wish my morality counted for something. I wish I had never got drunk and groped my sister’s friend while she was sleeping that night more then a decade ago. I wish I had taken advantage of all the women who wanted to fuck me in High School but never told me they did. I wish someone besides ME would make the effort to keep this thing alive. I wish. I wish I was flying through the sky, with the wind ripping back my hair. I wish I was the man you loved. I wish that you thought of me when you cheated on me with some guy from old town. I wish this list would stop being about how much I still hurt, but for how much I still YEARN. I wish I could be alive to see my death come in a natural, not forced, way. I wish I still had her. I wish I wasn’t going where I have been circumstanced to go, but will try hard for what I want regardless. I wish it wasn’t 100% over, but it is.


DEFN. *uneditable*

I just have to write as I go, and publish what comes out without holding pattern or redaction. I’m a writer in my heart, but this bitch still goes to bed with the editor. “You shook me all night long” with proper use of commas. So, I will follow the rule, and not delete, smash, abolish, or otherwise over-scrutinize my words by deleting things I do when I write unfiltered-ly. “On my signal… unleash hell.”

Will do  Maximus…


Somewhere between 225 – 265 lbs, so, it is an imposing silhouette if it needs to be (as long as you don’t mind the puppy-dog outline). I have short brown hair on my head.  More often a goatee or possibly some chops. My dimple is on my right. Tee Hee.

I have cool ocean blue eyes that sparkle but revile the sunlight (see: wears sunglasses). I have a history of acne scarring on most uncommon areas of my body. Some more then others, depending on usage-level averages and time of year. My Ass looks like the surface of Jupiter’s Io.

But then, I scratch and literally will claw holes in my flesh because my body is a temple fully defiled by obesity and hate. I rip chunks of my flesh away, watch the blood poor out of mangled wounds. It all means nothing. I’m nearly always bleeding from one point of my body or another.

**I should make this chapter MANDATORY READING for the next lucky winner at the Breaking Eric’s Heart game.

I have some admirable qualities, but we’re not quite done clearing hurdles. There are more then a few. But all I can think to do at this point is hand you my character sheet and see how it comes to bear in the most concise and effective means I am capable of.

Name: Eric/Westin

Date: March 13th 2014

72 Hours as a Tweet: I lost direction and love to betrayal. I now have time to right the listing ship, and go west evermore. I’m still out there somewhere. (136 characters)

Described in 1 Word: XD

Legal Status: Divorced (Either 2x, or Annulled if Jax will testify and sign court forms to indicate that she committed adultery and void the contract on said ground)

Character: Wes

Campaign: RL

Nature: Soft-heart Sophisticate

Demeanor: Rambunctious Theologian

Alignment: Chaotic / Good

Abilities (7):

1. Learning 3
2. Loving 2
3. Sharing 1
4. Creating 1

Attributes (15):

1. Communications 4
2. Original (Innovative/Creative) 3
3. Education (Formal) 2
4. Analysis (Conjecture) 2
5. Original (Hypothesis) 1
6. Knowledgeable (History 1, Science 2)

Disciplines (5):

1. Obtenebration 4
2. Potence 1


My rescue attempts go to fruitless spoil. She will never see me that way again. I am now the past (and unwelcome). It is me, this is what happens when I try ant take a real person on the ride. It’s a fucking nightmare though. And I don’t see how we really got confused. We are just, something not right anymore. Your decision making abilities are just fucking poor. You chose that uncertain fate versus trying to make it work with your husband? Who still loved you? Who would have taken you back and started over with you? I mean, like, fuck? Why Jax?

I cry to myself and know why it stings when the one who promised you the most was just lying. You just lied? You got bored? Like, what the fuck is your issue in deciding this life I built is now not what you want. You are making bad bad choices, like getting drunk while depressed. It’s only getting worse.

I hope you find a way out of this limbo life. Or if you have really scored in life and found a bunch of rich people just begging to take care of you, then hey, I’m still a cuckold either way. Cheated on while sleeping in a psych ward hospital bed. That’s low babe. I mean woah.

But I forgive you for this, and your total abandonment of our life together. I forgive you. Why hold on to it. Let it go.

Good luck out there. Please call before you come over, we need only to coordinate how to get your things and cats out of the apartment by the 8th of April.



Misguided Mind of Mine

I’m pretty sure I’ve won the award: easiest to fall in love with, but easiest to break up with also. 3 masterful romances, 2 ending in divorce, 1 in an arrest, and now 1 hospitalization!.

And I literally went insane on each of them at least once. None of them wanted much to do with me at that point. Dust settling, and realizing: “Yes, I can do better then this overweight guy who treats me like crap.” Paraphrasing, albeit. But basically giving you no reason to stick around since losing his job.

An abandonment at his weakest, most fragile juncture. Deciding whether or not it was worth living anymore because the one woman he loved more than anything in the history of his love was losing interest, or had lost her motivation to try with him much longer. She was ravishing, and knew it. She can have anyone she wants. She’s proportionality sexy. I imagine her spark for me had been out for a while. We had infrequent sex for months now. Once every few weeks, and for whatever reason, it was just trial and error. She had lost focus, or had driven herself into anxious states in which PTSD trauma became present in our lovemaking. I can understand why, mainly, because I invoked it by letting Jacqueline’s lack of enthusiasm for sex not take priority over my desire to come insider her. And so, she opened herself to me post pleading, and let me come in her despite a clear lack of involvement. I am now accused of “getting carried away.” Which is true, sorta… But Did I rape you? You were moaning softly the whole time for Christ’s sake! I’m not making it up. I remember, because I’m a sex-starved man who never took for granted a chance to make hot sex with a beautiful woman. Respect and want shared between two people is JUST SO FANTASTIC. We had that once. But it died and I already know why. But It can’t all hang by this thread, can it?

But she’s only been getting sexier since coming here. And I the opposite, until very recently, and that seems to go hand in hand with a disintegrating mood situation. Becoming less and less stable as time monkeyed on. And the reasons you got together, to understand and mutually cope with mental illness… the WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF THIS BLOG (which shared the conduction of your love to it’s current state); we let that die. We should be better friends to each other and try to help us get stable. First. To each, their own journey into cause and effect; let the spiral of independence come into focus. I am making alterations to how I will be living my life in the next few weeks. I am imminently considering a move to Northern California. Tech market is vastly superior to San Diego area markets. Much more opportunity for success.

I really wish we could just get in the truck together and go up there on a brand new adventure. Start the whole fucking thing over again.

Hi, I’m Westin, but you can call me Eric.

The struggle for dual mental-healthily-aware individual cohabitation was damaged irrevocably. I don’t believe in that hooligan mumbo-jumbo! I still love you. Why don’t we keep growing and changing together? Why can’t we be the masters of our mutual destinies? I firmly believe if we could get our individual lives together again, sell down, and reboot existence in a whole new world, we could make it work again. You are the family I chose. You are who I will be looking for when the apocalypse comes.

It hurts me to think of you out there just rocketing off away from me. Fueled by deep resentment. Regret. Hate.

“I’ll never let go…”

And I’m fairly certain “my heart will go on.”

Hand out some fucking tissues. I have a feeling a heartbreaking moment approaches….

If I have really done wrong here. If I am truly the linchpin of misery in these 3 relationships…

I’m sorry. And I cry inside with regret for how I’ve hurt you. I’m a terrible-great man. I have a callous-shoulderborn heart. I trust. I stay loyal, despite insanity. I try not to think about the short term, but how will this look in 4 months, 2 years… so on and so forth. Where there is a willingness, there is a way through. We may have the pegmatite seam in the granite, but we will need to chisel to get to that pocket of Aquas under there. Lookin’ gemmy! REAL GEMMY!

Hold on.

Fly Away Little Birdy

My Mom’s reaction to things accidentally ended up on my blog. So I gave it over to her and have it here if you wanted to read it.

Note to self

Although I pride myself as a student of human behavior, I find I am and shall always be naive when it comes to judging people.  I have always believed the best in people and I give them every chance to prove me right, but I am disappointed time and time again.  My heart suffers the consequence of my foolish beliefs and ideas about the way people should behave.  I love and trust far too easily.  You’d think that after all the times I allowed myself to believe only to be betrayed, I’d figure it out and toughen up…but no…I am destined to be a sucker and continue to believe.  I only hope that with each painful experience comes a valuable lesson…something that sticks…something that I will remember when the next opportunity walks through my door.  For now, I will wallow in self-pity, drink too much wine, use up a box…

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that tough spot.

I have no opinion to render, but always hear both sides of the story, once told.

Self Prescribed Creativity

i’ve gotten drunk everyday this week. i havent slept at my apartment in a week. i was kicked out of it two nights ago. can’t say i didnt deserve it. we are getting a divorce. i’d been struggling with my decision ost of this week. i knew it was what i wanted but it’s hard for me to accept something for myself that will harm others in the process.

i think i did what i did to finalize my decision. i tried to tell my husband but in a night everything id said had been unravelled. somehow what i said had turned into nothing. he imagined an apology and a hug would melt away the emotional abuse i’d been enduring for the sake of his mental disabilities.

i had sex with a friend. i hadnt sought it or expected it. i never imagined i’d be an adulterer but it happened…

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When life kicks you straight in the mommy-daddy-button, you’re probably going to keel over and sob. I mean, seriously, who stands there and takes it with a grin? Real life is dying of exposure in the taiga. Reality burns my flesh off with scathing fire fueled in the deep bowels of the evil hiding in my brain.

I’ll not be rid of him, but some form of regulation is an order. As of yet, the territorial lines between action and demeanor are hazy at best. Rationale seems like a concentrated offense, and usually always a brow furrowed deep in attempts to clear the murk of pain. I have no other place to vent my suffering, and my eyes literally ache from how oft I’ve cried. And I do mean oft.

I have to understand how I am myself.

I believe this new direction constitutes a militaristic coo deep within my nation, overthrowing one dictator and replacing him with a tyrant. What would Marcus Aurelius think? I still think we should hand the nation off to Maximus.

Russel Crowe, this comeback is dedicated to you. And Commander Peter Quincy Taggart.

I am stating it loud and clear. I am taking charge of my life and living it proudly, and for my health, and for my future and I will kick the living monkey piss out of this feeling. I will do that, then we shall have victory cake, which is “so delicious and moist.”

So, GLaDOS earns a dedication. Or at least a reference.

I’m going on from this. I am clearly useful in some capacity. I have an application in the real world. I posses skill, and loads of other great, personable, cherish-able attributes. My Mind’s Eye Theater character sheet reads:

Nature – Reluctant Self-hating Puppy Dog Faced Inebriated Nincompoop
Demeanor – Phantom -Mask’d Intellectual Roller-Coaster With Sparks and Flames Shooting Off It Going Upside-down at 90 Miles An Hour And We Just Came Off The ************** Tracks!!!!

I mean, there is likely some middle ground here. I think I need to get this negative voice, its malicious intent and other crap that goes on in the background. All the voices. The Ghost. It’s there, talking to me. It’s saying things that cause my soul to die a little as I listen. I try not too. I’m working  on a new angle.

I will probably be making incremental steps toward making my usefulness a sharp, pointed weapon. And I will poke doubters, disbelievers and other d word-ers for  their doings derogatory SQUARE IN THE EYE. Poke. Poke. POKE.


For now, I am just letting you know that I am still kicking. Still fighting.

Not going down. So here I stand…

“The cold never bothered me anyway.”

Gasping For Fumes

I’m awake running on less than 3 hours of (total) sleep. Plus, we just lost an hour here on the United States west coast. Good ‘ol nonsensical DST.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel utterly blasted to useless chunks… and then, aware that I am still here, still alive.

I just vomited on a nearly empty stomach. Symptoms of existence made manifest. Lost amidst rampant thoughts. How did it get here? HOW DID IT COME TO THIS?

Slowly moving towards something forbiddingly unknown. I don’t much like not having a single reasonable idea where my life is now headed.

I am likely done with San Diego again, and heading up to Silicon Valley in search of a Tech/IT career position. Market is wide open up there.

I like NorCal. It’s not a blissful desert paradise. Which is mind-numbing and placid… never changing, and no rain. Boo.

I’d like to be farther from the Southern Section of the San Andreas Fault as well. There is going to be a huge fucking earthquake down here soon, and I want no part of it.

Some PC Gaming topics before I go (because it takes my mind off of things):



When will the Edain MOD team release 4.0? Like never?

On that note, Where is UA 1.73? MIA? I’m like exploding having to wait 2 months beyond scheduled release.

What’s a good B.O. for AOE2 first 5 – 15 minutes? I go like dis:

Buildings: 2x Home, 1x Lumber, 1x Mill, Barracks if there is time (or during age)

Villagers (3): 1 on choppy choppy from the get-go, 1 builds 1x house and 1x mill then goes to hunted food, 1 goes hunted food until out of things to eat, all additionals are split hunters, choppers.

Scout: Returns an average of 400 food in capture-ables. Locate 2 relics minimum.

Age to Feudal (500 F)




Here are my Wife’s words. She deleted my comment to this post.

Self Prescribed Creativity

my husband had a psychotic break last night.

i knew he had a lot of anger in him, but it seemed like it came out in full bloom last night.

i feel like i’m supposed to feel sorry for him. understand because i’ve been in a similar place. except when i was there i didnt push my anger on anyone. i had my trauma thrown in my face. i was called a bitch and a cunt. i was told i caused trauma because i’m inconsiderate. how am i supposed to feel sorry. how can i write it all off as he wasnt himself when he damaged everything i am.

i visited him in the hospital. honestly i was scared of him. all i could think of as i walked to meet him was of how i used to visit my dad in jail. he took my hand and told me…

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And Then…

She found another man… amidst the crisis of her ailing husband’s hospitalization. She found a new dude who told her something that got her to open her legs, and he entered her, over and over again, much to her delight. And so she fucked him as I laid myself down in my cold hospital room and sobbed myself to sleep, contemplating a deep regret, and acknowledging how badly I had hurt the ONE person I love (d) more than any I had ever cherished before. I held her in my soul, felt her pain, and cried… until sleep finally took me. Every night I was in there. And at the exact moment I dove deep into my lament, she let another man be in her.

Yep. She cheated on me, and shot our marriage right in the fucking head. This was probably not a good idea, in my opinion. My family alone is reason to stay married to a shiftless loser such as myself.

They (above) are so great. Solid, dependable, loving, kind… the list only gets deeper as I go. I adore my family. They have seen me burn my life down more than once, and been there to help me rebuild it. With love, even.

I was willing to have my existence extinguished forever. I was. Albeit, there was a lot of insane-juice pumping through my veins. I remember the police confrontation in hazy bits and fragmented memory-stained pieces. They shot me in the chest with a rocket-propelled beanbag. And it didn’t hurt at the time, because there was about 8 trillion milligrams pure hysterical-adrenaline running through my system. Hurts now, kinda… tender. But not because they shot me, but because my biggest love I ever had set fire to the remnants of my life, and made me alone again.


It looks like I am bleeding internally. And perhaps that is true in a metaphorical, euphemistic sense. My heart did just burst, finally, after all the time I spent trying to convince it that I would need to rebuild my life with her. That I had damn near burned everything down, but love would remain. Love would keep us together, because we VOWED to be MARRIED to each other for the rest of our lives. Through all the holyshitfuckdamn trials of life with mental illness. We would endure. I was SO FUCKING SURE she understood that my illness is no joke, that it is real, dangerous, scary, sad and IN DESPERATE NEED OF SOMEONE WHO WILL HOLD-THE-LINE IN A CRISIS.

Her coping mechanism was to find someone new to fuck. And who knows, maybe this will be the moment she becomes a huge success? I’m guessing she more than likely squandered her best chance at a happy life, when she let another man come insider her.

So, my heart is sick, and now gushing blood in all directions.

I’m so fucking sad. But that’s normal when someone utterly guts you, and reduces your (my) ambitious love to ruin.

She’s really gone, and for now, so am I.

*raises his chalice*

To good fortune, and better days ahead. I drink to your health, and mine as well.


Life is different, but then again, I guess I’m going to have to keep wading my way through it, regardless of obstacle or pain. Being alive is a great thing, even if it induces great suffering, and even if your heart is mashed to mush.

Jacqueline. I love you. And I will miss you terribly…

Because this is our final goodbye.

My Birdy…

You have finally flown away.


I threw her out, and that’s the end of us. After this final humiliation, where somehow I was at fault for some bullshit reason… I left, then she left, and now I’m apparently an asshole, and there’s nothing wrong with anything she did, and my feelings of rage, humiliation, embarrassment and disgust ARE NOT HE FAULT, AND SO WHY WOULD SHE CARE ABOUT ANYTHING THAT IS NOT HER FAULT?  I’m so done. FUCK YOU, STUPID BITCH. Go away and don’t come back. Correction: Go find another partner, and hopefully, when you do, you are a fundamentally more reasonable person, and not a LIAR who MISCONSTRUED REALITY,  interested in passing blame for your mistakes off on people who don’t deserve it. Go fuck yourself. And thanks for nothing.

So, word to the wise: if you can’t fix your own problems, do the very best you can to blame someone else for them, and create a false drama based on some misguided emotional reaction you invented to blame someone else for your problems. Oh, and involve people who have no way of resolving anything. Just worry them with the details of how their son is a fucking idiot who ruins everything.

Right. Like that’s fucking healthy. Go to hell. It’s on me to fix and eggshell around what other men have done to you? WHY IS YOUR SEXUAL TRAUMA MY FAULT? WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO YOU TO DESERVE TO BE REJECTED AND RIDICULED, TIME AND TIME AGAIN, EVERY TIME YOU HAVE A BAD MEMORY POP INTO YOUR HEAD? WHAT THE FUCK?

So that’s the end. I don’t care if I go it alone. Fuck the lot of you out there. NONE of you idle-reading degenerates have even tried to help. NEVER. She tried. But she failed. She can’t even help herself, let alone help me.  SEEMS LIKE THAT’S PRETTY CLEAR NOW. AND I’M OVER IT.  She has fundamentally lost my respect and care. I won’t say that I don’t love her anymore. I think I always will because I’m stupidly loyal and never really give up on anyone. But as a person I want in my life? Nope. Go away and be a problem for some other poor son of a bitch.

I’m going to divorce you, I believe, and soon. I really have no care for what happens to you anymore. Good riddance, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

I no longer give a shit. This was my last go at a real life, and I failed. So, goodbye. FUCK EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU. I hope you fucking suffer and die you worthless sacks of shit. Fuck you.

I’m gone.