The Obsession with Hope

In the chaos that is a life truly lived, I have one again fallen behind in my writing. I am going to try again to keep up on that passion, whatever form that takes.

I was going back over old posts here and noticed a theme. Hope.

I don’t have the best relationship with the hope. Apart from being aggressively analytical, I’ve watched things in my life crash and burn too many times.

I understand hopes place in our lives. Especially for people who are in a hard place. But when hope is wrong, I turn very pessimistic.

Lately, hope has come up a lot. Not just the idle comments about hoping for this or that. It has come up where people talk about needing it. Buying a lottery ticket because, despite knowing they probably won’t win, the hope would get them through another week. Or how they needed to something to hope for, even if it was dumb.

Part of my issue with hope is how easy it is for hope to turn to denial or delusion. Choosing to ignore painful truths so they can cling to the “hope” that things will be different next time.

I’ve done this too. In the last few years I’ve chosen to overlook serious red flags in a few situations or behaviors because I didn’t want to let go of what was there.

I am incredibly lucky to have an amazing partner who has patiently watched me fight myself over these things. She has been the greatest cause for hope that I’ve had in years.

I still struggle with the idea. But I can see the need. Every time I look at the data and see the world around me getting colder, crueler, I recognize that the very last vestige of strength that pushes us through to the victory we have been fighting so hard for, is often blind hope.

I can’t change how clinical my world view is. But I keep hoping…



I keep trying to write here but recently I have been struggling to write at all.
I’ve had to start some medication that leaves me in a fog, dazed and stupid. I can’t focus on much of anything for more than five minutes and my inspiration has dried up.

I keep hoping I will push through it and get back to a place where I read and write regularly. But so far I haven’t managed to make it there.

So I’m writing this more or less just to write something. Anything. Just trying to shake the creative juices loose or get something moving again. With any luck at all I will start to see some positive effect from my medication and get back to where I am writing more. That is the ultimate goal in all of this. Improve the situation. Move my life forward again.

In the mean time, I have no idea what to say. I have a million fractured thoughts that would make brilliant starts to stories, poems or songs. But I can’t follow any of them. I chase these pieces like wisps of smoke. I can see them, I’m almost certain I should be able to reach them. But they slide through my fingers tips, insubstantial.

It’s a frustrating feeling, seeing so much potential that I just can’t make real. Fighting for a hold on something that use to be more readily present to me. But here I sit, ready to punch my monitor in frustration as I fumble words I’ve always managed so easily. I reread words I’ve written and hate them, seeing constant misspellings and errors in grammar or words missing entirely.

But still I try. I won’t let circumstance take my writing from me. And sooner or later, whether through adaptation or sheer force of will, I will see myself writing again. The process is just time.

Patience. Patience in all things. You can’t rush life, so to I must not rush health. Til then, I hope for the patience from others that I have failed to have with myself.

The Shadow Man

Faceless and nameless
the voices are shameless
they twist and contort me
and claim they are blameless
You hold on to tightly
they leave you and rightly
you know you can’t make it
you can’t even fight me
I try not to listen
to the constant admissions
but all that they say
is just part of the question
Can’t you hear what they’re thinking
they’re mocking they’re taking
their time and enjoying
how pathetic you’re being”
Breath in breath out
but don’t make a sound
the silence is heavy and sharp
but I’m bound
You know you can’t hide
we are always inside you
we are the only ones
holding you tonight”

Somehow they’re right
but still I fight
there has to be more
to this life than this strife

Green eyes don’t cry
smiling delight
see through the soul
they will haunt you for life

Green eyes don’t lie
open so wide
but don’t listen to close
or you’ll lose your mind

Green eyes burn bright
shining a light
constant companion
and only one left me tonight

Breath on Bones

I’ve felt grossly nostalgic this evening, for places and things that do not exist in my world. Missing my light and my darkling and much more.
So I thought I’d ponder on irony. On loss. Some of the pathetic turns that shape a beautiful, if tragic reality.

● I’m a writer. I write to express things I cannot otherwise express. However, I don’t write much of what dwells in my mind because it is, by nature, darker or unhappy. And that makes people concerned. I am very
appreciative to have people who notice and care, but it does make writing my mind…awkward sometimes.

● I sit here with a connection to the Internet.  I literally have a tie to every corner of the globe. Everything we know as a species is here. With time and patience I could learn everything human kind now knows. Yet there are moments I find myself bored. People less interested in learning have done so much more with so much less.

This maybe the single greatest tragedy of this generation, that we squander such opportunity on apathy due to convenience.

● With time off from school or work I have accomplished nearly nothing. The old adage is true. If you want something done, ask a busy person. When I have nothing to do, I will do nothing. If I don’t have a spare second, I’ll change the world.

● If I need to sleep, I have to make plans. If I have the chance to sleep I will literally spite rest out if restless anxiety.  If I can’t afford to, I’ll sleep through my alarm, texts, phone calls and possibly armagedon.

● Making plans will also guarantee that my body and mind give out. Just saying…

I could keep on for quite a long time.
The point being that life will actively be everything other than what you expect. So take the chance to enjoy where you are.  It may not be home. But it can be perfect for now.
Tell the people that matter that they matter. If you’ve said it a million times,  always say it once more. They need to hear it. Believe me, they do.
You’ll never be ready for the big steps. Not until you take them.
Sometimes you have to trust that you aren’t the Joker you think the world sees, and just be thankful that Harley  love you.
The deepest night brings the brightest stars.
If, in that dark night you can’t find the light, maybe it’s because you are the light.

And when all else fails, a few shots of whiskey can carry you that last few steps and probably then some.
So keep a flask handy. It holds the lullaby at bay.


The quiet rumble of evening chatter in this half assed dive drones like some tainted, off-white noise covering the the edges of my broken thoughts.

One more drink to forget.

I stare at the empty seat across from me. You sat there once. You smiled and laughed and asked me to stay with you. You said you felt lucky I would even consider it.
It’s hard to fathom that the moment is just a shadow of a memory. That no remnant of it remains outside my splintered psyche. Even the energy of our chemistry has faded in the wake of a thousand hours since.

But I can see your face as clear as day. I can see you laughing, hear you say my name….

Even after this lifetime those passing moments are more real than this world around me. The faces of strangers are blurred compared to yours. Their voices a distant echo next to you melodic speech.  Even the table under my shaking hands seems insubstantial when I remember your hand on my cheek.

And just that is enough to bring a torrent of other memories crashing into me. It feels like getting hit with bricks and I have to clutch my head against the pressure.
It passes after a moment and I sit back, drawing a rattling breath. I look back at the chair. I smile as I see you there again, even as some small part of my mind wonders how long I’ll court this haunting.

A question for tomorrow. Tonight I’ll indulge the grief and cling to the ghost of your memory. Another drink and another memory, clearer than reality.

One more drink to remember…


Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the US. My family and friends will be gathering together to celebrate having family and friends. Most of them will probably do so a touch begrudgingly as they deal with the inevitable irritation that comes with those gatherings. But for the most part they will be glad they took the time out of their lives to get together and catch up.

I won’t be there. There won’t be a spot set for me at their tables. I can say with relative certainty I won’t even come up, beyond perhaps a passing mention. I can say this because it’s been the case for the last few years. I get various highlights from those that could participate and someone is always kind enough to let me know how my absence of more than half a decade has led them to hardly notice I’m not there.

Which makes sense. After a few years then it’s just the way it is. It’s not really worth commenting on how much the same things are. People want to discuss whats new. Not what happened exactly how everyone knew it would.

Still, for the first time since I left the world I knew, I find myself facing a holiday season alone. Not completely without company. There are still people who would welcome me, and I am appreciative of their kindness and friendship.

But it’s not the same. Being invited to see other people’s lives isn’t the same as having one of your own. And right now, I don’t.

I just had a lot of people walk out of my world. People I thought I could trust. People I believed in. For the most part it wasn’t just a simple leaving. It was lies and manipulations and cruelty. And I realized how long I had trusted in people I couldn’t trust. How long I had counted on people who would walk away without a thought, so far as they let on to me.

My life could be a lot worse. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly. But it’s just survival. I’m thankful for that. Despite everything, I am thankful to still be alive. But surviving and living are very different. And I am only just surviving.

Most recently I pissed off two very dear friends of mine. One of those cases it was a mutual thing. Two stubborn people adamantly holding their position, both thinking they were more ‘right’. The other was more callous insanity on my part. Either way, I haven’t heard from either since the incidents, both of which happened within twenty-four hours of each other.

The number of people in my world is dwindling. And I’m about to shrink that number even more as I realize how bad some people are for me. Or how bad I am for them.

Thanksgiving. This year I will give thanks for the few bold souls so have withstood the chaos of my life. They are so very few anymore, but they are of the greatest character.

I will give thanks for the miracles I have bore witness too. Surviving the survivable, always somehow having just enough to manage, even when I shouldn’t. The comfort of gods, spirits and patrons who have never carried me, but have pushed me to keep me going.

And, I will be thankful for this hell. The last two years have seen some of the worst days I have ever known. Days I I hurt in ways I had never even imagined. They have seen me in and out of hospitals, with ever failing health and mental breaks. They’ve seen the loss of the many, many people I have loved. Death and insanity and pain.

But through it all I have been free. And facing the darkness today I saw the alternative. Hand my mind and will to someone or something else, find peace in being blind and carried. Give up the fighting and struggle and loss for another power having control of my life.

My life maybe hard. But it is MINE. I maybe subject to the whims of fate, but no more than anyone else and I have the power to adjust my sails, to chart my own path.

So often it seems that you can be happy or you can be free. But even in the darkest hour I keep going because for every new low I remember that there will be a new high. For every hurt there will be a joy, for every curse a blessing. Every dark day I face just means that I will have to find a new light.

So I am thankful for this hell. For the test that makes me more than I was. For the adversaries that teach me in my defeat. Everything weighing me down will make me stronger. Not today. Today will suck. But some distant tomorrow maybe brighter for it.

I hope that all the people I have lost aren’t gone forever. I hope some of them become a part of my world again. I hope that there are new friends not far away.

I may hope in vain…..but I hope. And that is more than I have been able to do is recent times.

So I’m thankful. I’ll continue to struggle. And my days and nights will still hurt all the same. But I’ll be thankful. For all the people and their kindness, for the opportunities and wisdom. I’ll be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving.


Labels and the Impatient World: This is why we’re screwed

I have a lymphatic infection in my jaw so I am doped on lots of pretty drugs. So if there are typos (Spoiler: There are) or serious grammatical errors (Also yes) please forgive me.
This is also a touch long, partly drug induced, and perhaps a touch nonsensical but, I had to confront this today so I’m venting. Feel free to skip over and read the next thing I post which I promise will be less soap-boxy.



One of the biggest things to bug me these days is labels. Ok, so a lot of things bug me. But today, the one that annoyed me the most was labels.

I live in a weird little corner where my personal political, social, and spiritual views don’t fit neatly into a currently defined category. This leaves me in the unique position of having to try in the span of minutes to short hand a belief system that has been developed over a quarter of a century by literally thousands of hours of experiencing life and actively trying to connect with how other people see things. What’s more, it’s just one persons view.

On the short of it I believe people need to be free to be themselves. If everyone involved in any one decision or event is above the age of majority, of sound mind and knowingly, willingly participating…then have at it. Life is to short to spend hundreds of years redefining what other people are allowed to do. If Bob next door wants to dope up and have orgies every weekend, then as long as the orgasmic screams die down by ten, I’m ok.

I get this doesn’t always work. Life is nothing if not grey (gray? Screw you international spell check) lines. But as a rule, if you don’t like it, don’t stare in the persons window. It’s that simple.

And the more I try to understand why people are pissed about things that have nothing to do with them, the more I see it comes to labels. We work so hard to give everyone labels. You are Christian or Atheist, Conservative or Liberal, pro or anti this or that. Everything we are or believe is being cropped down into one or two word titles so that we can “understand” someone’s point of view without actually talking to them.

I get that labels have their place. As a man constantly starving for new knowledge, I appreciate that labels can be useful. It allows you to quickly sum something up without hours of conversation. If we had to completely re-explain the entirety of an idea before being able to address it at all we would never progress because we would all just be saying the same thing over and over. Labels can be good.

But we have two huge problems. First, people forget that a label cannot quickly explain everything a person believes. People are dynamic. They are chaotic, they change and grow and adapt. Even the more closed minded people will evolve over time. And knowing what someone believes without knowing WHY can completely change how it’s perceived.

Second, and honestly the bigger of the two problems, is that when we are still trying to define what we believe we use preexisting labels to explain ourselves to others. And after years and years of doing this, and not getting the chance to truly explain our believes, it becomes easy to just use this inaccurate label. So both sides are no longer trying to see the truth. Now apply this to seven billion unique people with ever adjusting views in an ever shrinking world….the idea of how much we are losing here is staggering.

Someone asked me the other day if I was Wiccan or Warlock. I laughed in their face. Some of you might understand why, but for those who don’t it would be like asking me if I was a Jedi or a Hobbit. In my experience so far the two don’t really exist in the same sphere. But then again, labels.

Anyway, when i stopped laughing, apologized for laughing at them and said no, they wanted to know (apart from why I laughed at them) what I was. Now, I’m being asked to define someone elses labels AND present my whole world view in a few short words in an environment where we aren’t suppose to talk religion or anything controversial. This generally means I just don’t talk, so I really had to work hard.

I tell everyday strangers I’m non-denominational spiritualist. To the people I know better I’m a non-denominational spiritualist sorcerer. I leave out the last part to the general public because crazy is a thing and most people already think I’m that. But it is the best way I can describe who and what I am.

Now, this label doesn’t really tell people much because the words are general (Non-denominational, really?) or they think it’s a joke (Sorcerer? Is that like, a party magician?). But the truth is I am not going to spend the time needed to tell a casual acquaintance in the middle of the work place, with a ever growing crowd (my conversations tend to draw betters on how  long before H.R. shows up with a warning) what two and a half decades of life have taught me about the nature of the undefinable.

In the end, we need labels because they make social and philosophical progress possible. But we cannot continue to use labels as an end all answer to what someone else believes. If you want to judge someone based on their beliefs (and you, sir, are already an ass for wanting to do so) then at least attempt a real conversation.
This rule is waved slightly for politicians and religious leaders. If you are going to intentionally flaunt your beliefs to the world it’s up to you to present a valid reason why. If you aren’t going to explain yourself I reserve the right to judge you harshly with no evidence. You’re on tv. You have been warned.

But for the individual person? Don’t judge based on a few short words used by millions to define their position. And please, think about the labels you use for yourself and for others. Those few short words can forever alter the shape of your world. Choose how you define yourself carefully. It’s how the world will judge you.