I was so much older then...

Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens.

(no subject)
i find myself feeling the urge to write. to start keeping a journal to use a orienting tool. I have so many ideas, so many thoughts that i want to go back to, that i want to implement, or inject into the practice of my craft, and i just let them go. Some go into practice, but most go by the wayside.

(no subject)
whiskey aside, i had a vacation a few weeks back. I took my son to Michigan to see my family, then left him for a few days with grandma while a friend and I went up to Canada to do some fishing. We came home a week later, but I just didn't feel revived from the vacation. In fact, my spirit was lower than it was before i left. My ex is falling apart and the stress of dealing with her drama and the impact it's had on our lives has been near unbearable. I couldn't even get out of bed the day after I got back...so fucking depressed. My work is totally suffering, my new babysitter doesn't want to deal with her, I'm losing my financial stability, slowly and surely, a month at a time...and now there's lawyers involved.

I started talking to her other baby's father only to find that the lies and drama run deeper and scarier than I had ever dreamed. The stories she told me when this all started...fabulous dramatic stories of him getting blown out of a building (he's a firefighter) and being hospitalized and unable to work for a month, the story of her father dying (talked to him a few weeks back), the story of her other son being hospitalized with lukemia are all untrue. What kind of sick fucking person is this?

Anyway, i just didn't feel refreshed after returning home, so I took off again for a short kamakazie trip back up into Michigan. On the trip, I decided to just quit taking her calls. I'm on the fringe, or atleast feeling so. I want to take Aidan and head for the hills, far and away from the lunacy that pumps from her chest. The money's running low, I need to hustle up some work, but I can't get a schedule from her. i'm stuck home all week, while that jobless cunt is off fucking whoever she can find. Supposably now, she lives with Scott, her fiance....funny, but just a few weeks ago that anorexic pile of bones was trying to climb into my bed. How seriously fucked up is she? Am I going to have to go into debt up to my eyeballs to prove it to get custody of my boy?

Coming home this week was much better, but still unable to work, unable to do a fucking thing. She was suppose to pick him up at two-thirty today...this morning i get a text..."Change of plans, I have a job interview tomorrow, you'll have to keep him"...what a fucking piece of shit. What a skank. What a white trash whore. She has a job interview? While I sit and lose money by the bushel. 

(no subject)
so....my therapist suggested that while i'm going through this struggle with my son's mother I should write down all the things that get me mad. Well really there's only one thing that gets me mad...it's that skinny little polock slut who goes by the name of Dana...She a cunt of the first degree and afflicted by a major personality disorder. Have you ever had to deal with someone who is insane? Have you ever had to deal with them at a level so deeply personal as to the well being of your son. This bitch is a monster.
I'm not sure what happened to her over the last year, but I remember when it started. I got a call and she said she was going into the hospital to be treated for anarexia and that I needed to care for my son while she was hospitalized. From there on out her behavior has been eradic and unpredictable. Lie after lie, she's lost two jobs, has moved several times, and has manipulated the people around her to the point that they have permanently shut her out of their lives. But it is here I dwell, on the threshold and dreaming of the day that she becomes irrelevant in the decisions that I must make.

Eagle Feather
 Last week I came to the conclusion that it was time to close a chapter of my life and move on to a new one. My plan waas to take a few short vacations this month and get back to what comes natural. I've been struggling with my ex in regards to the well-being of my son. I see her as unstable and unpredictable and not the best enviornment for him to be in. I'm losing sleep. I'm unable to concentrate on my work. I'm losing money. I have consistently bent and stooped to accomodate her and yet she still goes out of her way to try to control and diminish our relationship because she isn't as available to him, which she views as a threat. I have provided a good home for him always. I have brought good people into our lives even under difficult circumstances for myself (i.e. being away from home, family, and friends). I have found a great school and community for him to grow up in. I have supported him fully; cooked healthily, taught at every opportunity, nurtured, built confidence,  clothed, showered, bathed, laundered, and wiped his ass from day one. I have been the consistent figure and have given him the security of boundaries and discipline that he needs to respect himself and others and I am fed up with his Adult Child Mother trying to railroad me to cover up her own inept devices. 

For many years, I carried the feather of the Redtail Hawk that I found while hunting as a symbol for what I have been. The Hawk always manifested itself to me at crutial times in my life, they're  sturdy and common, hunters of the first degree, and very adaptable, such as I. So, whenever I felt a wind coming over my spirit, I looked for the hawk, and when the hawk appeared, I knew a change was coming. At one point, during a hurtful break-up, a redtail with a fresh kill in it's talons, buzzed my head and shrieked at the highest pitch; two days later, I moved twelved hundred miles. The Hawk has served me well and brought me to a crucial time and place in my life where I've had to make decisions I wasn't ready to make. Where the status quo would  no longer surfice, and  when I must push forward unsure of the consequences or outcome. So, last Friday, when I realized that it was time to write the next chapter, I didn't truely understand  what, if any, would be the next symbol of guidance for my journey. All I knew was that if I was to have any chance at being succesfull, I must make a move forward and trust in God.

I had been planning and gathering the right people for about a month now. I consulted a good lawyer, with a great reputation. I found a therapist that would work with me at a reasonable rate. (if you have to deal with crazy, dysfunctional people, you need a therapist to keep your own sanity). My next move was to try to find the father of Her other child, who is also suing her for custody, and who I managed to find with my first phone call. Wow,that was a strong sign that I was doing what was right, the wheels were in motion as I waited for her to bring over my son, so we could go on our first camping trip. At 9am  I sent the first text, "leaving at eleven". I didn't get a response for over an hour, then some jumbled up stuff about her losing her job...what a surprise. Surely, as I knew she would, she never brought my son over as scheduled, but I was resound to leave and enjoy myself with the accompanyment of a close friend,, and move forward with this new chapter. An hour into our ride up I recieved a text..."I can have him there in 30". That was the end of the chaper.

On Sunday we headed out for a hike along Lake Michigan and that's where I understood I was on the right path. Below the steep rockface and long shade of the cedars, on the smooth white rocks, among the bones and driftwood, and among the thousands of seagull feathers that lay in waste, the feather of the most magestic hunter of all had found me. The Eagle Feather is big medecine...they are sacred and powerful, a symbol of beauty and percision, balance and grace, power and speed, wisdom and vigilance. When the feather came to my hand I knew what had to be written in the next chapter... 

(no subject)
The world is a scary place. I can't trancend out from where I'm currently at to understand how I'd feel concurrently if I was not living in such a big metropolis, but every bit of information I recieve is swallowed while pinching my nose. Yesteday I heard that the city of Chicago wants to sell off the public's Dept. of Water to a private contractor. The control of water in private hands is not the scariest thing though; maybe, and when the time comes to sell off clean air, that might be worse.

I'm sort of fascinated as to how this all will play out. Insurance and pharmacutical companies already control a big part of our legislature, whos' to know who the silent partner is in affairs such as these. What's to prevent the Chinese or Saudi's from investing in opportunities such as this. Do we really want foreign entities buying up the future of our country Or what about private investment groups, pharmacutical companies, or media factions that stand to gain billions of dollars in profits by way of propaganda?

It all seems to me like Americans are getting left behind. Sold out by our own government in a country that has been bought and paid for a million times over by the blood and sweat of the ones being sold time and again, and also as if the American Constitution is too vague, too idle, and with too many loopholes to really protect The People from all enemies, foreign and domestic.

At one point in my life I thought of a tattoo for myself; SIN in devious black lettering on the shoulder ball of my arm with the words Strength in Numbers encirculing the anagram. The ideas was to let those who judge without understanding go by the wayside, and to try to keep those who looked closer for the deeper meaning. 
I'm getting the feeling that the latest "Swine Flu" scare is only a test to see how the general public will react when the time comes to shrink the population. What are a few million lives worth when one considers the bloody history of the human race. Perhaps the weak, the poor, the lazy, and the underachievers who won't rise to the occasion or who don't comprehend the equation deserve such a fate?

My lifetime on this planet has always been a spiritual dance. Each miracle I've encountered has had no dollar amount attached to it. It could not be bought, sold, or traded; it has all came from communion with nature, the Self included. 

(no subject)
Another October is coming and this year the change that life brings is more evident than ever. Usually something I look forward to all year, this season I have some trepidation about returning to camp. The boys are getting old and old drunks are seldom a good time. Last year we (all who sleep in the cabin) were woken up by Ernies moaning in the middle of the night. He had to, but couldn't pee. He stood there by the side of his cot with his penis in hand, aiming it down into an old coffee can while some snored and otherslayed on their sides urging him on. The 80 year old iconic figure had just shown us, for the first time, his own immortality. I laid on my back and advanced my mind to the future and wondered what one thinks about when they know that they're coming to The End.  The saga of Ernies inability to urinate continued into the afternoon, eventually leading to a drive into town and a visit into the hospital. He returned smiling, joking, and told more funny stories, but somewhere behind the smile I could sense the dark cloudy fear of the unknown.

 A while later, two women from Ernies past arrived for a visit. Ernie knew most of the women in the town and had at one time or another slept with, or next to, most of them. That was the way things went in the Soo, or atleast that's what the stories told. I stayed close to him and watched and listened. I played softly on the guitar while they talked, smoked, and conjured up spirits from the past. I found the Native American woman attractive and bent my notes adornfully to caress her silky black hair. Quietly in the minor key,  I studied the language of their bodies as they studied one another but soon the awkward moment was over.  One by one, we got up and left the cabin to join the group that had gathered around the bonfire. I left the guitar upright on the sofa and followed close behind but ending on the porch. I felt a cold, course hand grasp my forearm. Ernie was next to me, holding on. "Thank You" he said. I smiled with my eyes and gathered a deep breath, standing up tall. I wanted to show my strenghth to the old man and let him know he could lean on me for anything.

(no subject)
I've given up on my solution. Money does that to me, it makes me lazy and I sometimes feel I live much better without too much of it. When times are tough, I get tough; I eat better,  work harder, and never find it difficult to sleep. I keep my ear to the ground and seek out better ways to experience life. I to fool myself out of it and get back to being a Spartan.

(no subject)

Steady rain...nice to wake up to; nice to sleep in. I was taken back in a dream with a girl I used to know...in life, she made some bad choices but, in the dream she was a successful singer/songwriter.

Quiet house for a Saturday. Aidan stayed at his moms last night, I stayed up to watch that miserable hockey game. What a drag for Detroit fans, but the Pens persevered and deserve their day in the sun. So here I sit....a Saturday with nothing to do, unless of course I want to go spend money in an attempt to satisy an unidentified need. No, I'm pretty sure something else will surfice...I was  planning on a hike around the lakes nearby...my raingear sit's idle in the closet while I've already dug out my old floppy hat;  I've been feeling the need to say "goodbye" to a departing Spring.

So I sit...still unenthused with the prospect of hiking out in the wet grasses of the prairie although I know once I arrive and make my way off on a trail the  vague feelings of need and want will subside and all the natural word will declare victory with me on their side. A trouting trip into Wisconsin is also a very real possibility in the upcoming week. All legalities are nearly settled and I am the undisputed loser, fortunately for me my karma, charisma, and aliance with the Lord was over looked by their lawyers and I was able to scuddle through  the cellar door smuggling in some personal success and treasure, while whipering the mantra..."keep your friends close, but your enemies closer 

Ah, but life is hard if you want to play the game. My father is again caught in the midst of a crisis. Seems for him, it is..."one thing after another". His life has shattered the theory that good people are rewarded. One punishment after another comes his way and all I've ever know to do is give whatever he has to whoever is in need. The biggest fault I've found in him has been to support those who will not support themselves and invest time and energy into causes that do not have the foundation to live on. He's been undecided most of his life, unable to make decisions that cut deep into life and for that he suffers the punishment that comes with it. "Choose or be Chosen" I've heard it said. The eyes of Christians saints are painted wide and black, gazing outwardly for the works and love of God, but also for those in need of mercy. Padre has taught us much and shown us such humanity through his humility. Eternal love be it his success while mercy and kindness are what he needs now.

While writing this a knock occured upon my door. Two women (perhaps a mother and daughter), looking for a room to rent.
"We just arrived in this country and we are looking for a place to stay". The older of the two had a beautiful smile and a Sarah Palin type face. I was taken back by her beauty. Yes, the need I have with women has been updated and reissued. Is it a correction that comes from fatherhood? I wonder where the old me went. I feel a need to go out and stop that women and tell her "Yes...you can live with me until you get on your feet or done with school". I long for the old nurturing ways and superstitions held by my grandparents. I have no faith in american ideology, practicality, or it's theories on love, sex, or family. I long to unlock the mysteries of such beauty and such loving eyes...to discover the seed and flower of it's inception passed down mother to daughter, father to son. Sad to see her walk away, her umblella leaning on her soft shoulder, her tied back and tucked behind her ear; I wish I had something to offer, to share...a meal, a song, a hot cup of tea. Gone now, the love of my day...this day, this rainy and beautiful musical day. I was caught here and shown my need...A gift from above, a reminder that chance and opportunity happen to those in motion...settle upon what is only neccessary and decide accordingly to that what is offered. Yes, this is what blew my fathers ship into the rocks, his inability to see his own path.

When I was younger, drinking in a tavern, I met this exotic looking Gypsy women. She enslaved me with her beauty and a romance soon began. She was older, dark and wise; sensual like nothing I've ever know and able to see the past and future as one. She told me of myself, my travels, and the lives it took me to get here. But she warned me about my fathers lack of experience and inability to recognize a Divine voice, it was always masked and cloaked in Catholisism and I think that persistent tie hindered the ways of the human spirit. Yes there is life, yes...sin...but in order to see the enormity of the mountain, you must walk alongside in the valley. "The Dark Night" as John of the Cross labeled it...it is what leads us back to God and to a spiritual maturity we otherwise might never knew existed.

(Oh Gypsy Women...when will you knock upon my door, and spill libations on my floor!)

It is decided....Raingear, a keen eye,  open heart,  and a listening ear...off to the lake! 

(no subject)
 Dinner is a special time, a religious time alotted out of each day to nourish our bodies and our spirits. My son and I sit down for dinner together nearly every evening he's here. Our conversations always reflect upon the neccessities of life and for a three year old intellect our conversations run pretty deep... like the one day he told me he thought I was mysical or the other day when he said we need to get our own house, that this was John's house (landlord), and it's getting time for us to get our own space (I've been thinking along the exact same lines).
I try to keep my sermons on life light hearted, spiritual, and thought provoking; always letting him think for himself and free to arrive at his own conclusions. Tonight we somehow ended up on the topic of spanking....(I've spanked my son one time and so I always remind him of this to keep it fresh in his mind). So tonight I asked again to see if he remembered..."how many times did I spank you?"
"One time" he said.
Then I asked where we were to be sure he truly did remember.
"Church" he said.
Then I started to tell him about the path of life...how a father has the responsibility to raise his son so that he grows up to be a happy and responsible adult. I gave him an example of the alternative where a father and son grow apart and how it adversley affects both there lives. He studied my fingers walking along the table in seperate directions with a distraught look upon his face and I took that as an opportunity to shovel more food into his mouth.
Then I reverted back to the Sunday he recieved his spanking and asked him..."did I tell you I was going to spank you before I did it ?"
He smiled and studied my face before replying.
"Yes" he said still studying my face and looking me in the eyes he said..."I love you daddy" and leaned over to give me a kiss, then a big hug with his trademark pat on the back. 
His understanding really blew me away and validated the importance of us having these special times together.  

(no subject)

A new mantra has been working it's way into my thought stream.

I had a dream I met a girl that was from eastern europe...
just as we were getting to know one another her visa expired... 

A fishing trip is on the radar...I don't think I've ever stayed out  alone without Shayla. By monday afternoon my traveling disposition should change.

 Been looking for another place, but Aidan and I are really comfortable here. Been thinking about testing the waters with the owner about the dog...coming up with an excuse..."oh she's dying and I'm looking for another place..." yeah something like that, just until it's understood that she's not or never has been a problem. Control. 

Narcissism; I sort of blame on GH and just have a feeling my adventures came up in conversation between the two weirdo's and that's what I hate about working with/for other people, especially G.H. who has good moral character, but is the dullest personality I've ever known ("all work and no play"-proven). I always get the feeling from him that somehow he thinks he''s better or more important but without ever having to face the challenge of competition. Not once, through his "slow down" (stoppage)  did he ever inquire on how my financial situation was, not once did he ever show concern; after two point five years of making him look good, my life was a non-issue. But through that time I persevered and put myself in a better position than I've been in-in a long time.

And now that things are picking up and he's getting more opportunity, he's expecting me to once again throw my own priorities aside and help him support all the overhead he's established. He's going to have to sweeten the pot for me to make him a priority after the miserable eight months his company has given me. 

(Really, I hate thinking on this level, especially so early in the morning on a Sunday, but the issue remains and other opportunities are calling). I haven't discussed any of my other options with him, but have given him the childish notion that they're there...When he asked me what kind of insurance I was getting (undoubtedly, wondering if I was getting business insurance), I let him know that I couldn't afford truck insurance for over six months, haven't been to the dentist in three years or haven't had health insurance in two and a half years and since I came to work for him. I wondered if he had to put off any of his responsibilities. 

It was a mistake letting him make me an employee. After taxes, there's barely enough money to live on working full time...and I still have to use my truck, my tools, and have to maintain all the same things as if I were in  business, but can't write them off as I did as a contractor. This has to change... when I didn't have work over the winter, all I managed to collected from unemployment was six hundred dollars.

You can't depend on anyone.



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