Less Than Zero

I just watched Less Than Zero. I know my blog seems to revolve around my reactions to movies. It is sometimes the only way I access/understand what's going on inside this thick skull.

Robert Downey Jr. plays Julian, a crack addicted twenty year old in the late 80's L.A. scene. He ends up dying of an overdose. Downey is just amazing in is ability to translate the devastation of drugs. He also channeled backed a lot of memories of my brother back.

I can keep the feelings and pain buried for so long and then it pokes it head out again. It's been twenty eight years now. The pain exploded through tonight like it was yesterday. I feel sick to my stomach and I want to curl up. I want to get drunk too. That's the weirdest part of it.

I'd give anything to see my brother again. I would like to kick his ass for all the pain he gave my parents and me. I wish I could hug him because I never did. Watching someone kill themselve's with drugs, I can't explain it.

Anyways. Scott I miss you, and I love you.

peace

dumb david

I am so tired.....

It's Sunday night and I am so tired. I just finished reading some of my older posts on my previous blog. They were from right before my Mom died. I am definitely sliding backwards again. I went and looked at a truck today. It is only 600.00 dollars. I don't have that much. I will spend almost 300 again to visit my daughter this coming weekend. It is so humiliating driving my piece of shit van around. I can't write much tonight. I am so tired, I wish I could sleep for a year....

peace

dumbdavid

Tully and or thoughts about my Dad

I got scared twice.

Yesterday, at work, I was doing a job I don't like very much. I was tired and thirsty and I thought, "God, a beer would taste great." It was such a strong thought. It came like a lightning out of the sky. I don't think about drinking very much. It's usually is in only an observation of other people talking about their drinking. I never think about drinking myself. Eight years of sobriety kind of puts you at ease. Whoa!

I just watched the movie Tully. I found the DVD at a garage sale for two bucks. I had wanted to see it for sometime. I am a fan of Law and Order CI. Julianne Nicholson use to be on it and she is in Tully. It's a story about family secrets, surprise. The father dies in the end of the movie. It's a suicide that made to look like a farm accident so the grown boys won't lose the farm.

The older son finds his father dead. I wasn't ready for his reaction and mine. My father is 68 and not in great health. I have been trying to prepare myself for what's certain to happen. I did the same when I knew my Mom was dying. I was overcome with sadness. I am afraid of his dying. I will be all alone then. It feels like I have failed as a son too. I don't know. I am rambling because I am upset and I wanted this down on paper, so to speak.

I grew up in a family of Secrets. I am going to be honest with my daughter no matter what. I have already talked to her about alcohol and my alcoholism. I don't think she understands yet but it's okay. I will keep talking to her in a positive way. I think this Memorial Day I will take her to my brothers grave to talk to her about drugs.

Dad, I am sorry I can never say the things I should. I am sorry I haven't always been there. I am sorry I have let you down. I can see in your eyes your disappointment. I am sorry you worry so much about me. I love you.

peace

dumbdavid

Dead Dad's Club

"You can't be in it until your in it."

Well I just re-watched the Grey's Anatomy's episode where George's Dad died. My dad is still alive. I wanted to feel sad tonight and now I do. That's also a line from a movie that's slipped from my mind. I didn't write on the three year anniversary of my Mom dying. I did call my Dad and told him I was thinking of him. I use to call my Mom on the anniversary of my brother's death to tell her the same thing.

It's hard to believe it's been three years since she died. My father and I had to go through the same decision process that George's family went through about letting her go. My Mom had a stroke and her organs were shut down.

I am probably repeating the process I went through with my brother's death. I lived in a chemical denial then and paid a horrible price for it. I thought I had been dealing with Mom's death pretty good. Tonight, it doesn't feel that way. The worst part is I am getting scared.

My Father's health isn't great. He is three pack a day smoker with high blood pressure and a family history of stroke. He is 68 years old and sits in front of the TV eating fatty foods. I am dreading the telephone call that is bound to come sooner than later.

I don't have any family left except for my Father and my daughter who is 11. How am I going to get through that time with no real support system. I just passed my 8 year sobriety birthday[Yeah!]. When Mom died it was really hard. Watching my Dad get drunk those first few nights after she died help keep me sober. It was hard to sit there while he was suffering but I put his needs first. I sat there listening to him tell stories about her and our family.

What will I do when he is gone. I don't have any real close friends. The reasons aren't important but they are all gone. It's mostly my fault so I don't blame any of them. I guess it's just wait and see.

I figured out the line about feeling sad. It's from Indian Summer. A group of friends reunite at the Summer Camp where they grew up because it scheduled to close. Beth is widower and she says the line when asked why she came up to the camp.

Jack: Why'd you come up?
Beth: Because... I wanted to be sad. Now I'm sad.

I totally get that feeling. I feel sad and I will watch certain movies or tv shows to amplify it. I am a Masochist I guess.

peace

dumbdavid

A hole in the heart

How do we plug the holes in our hearts. The self inflected, earth stopping, plasma needing, holes. There are holes from those taken from us. The holes created by relationships ending. Sometimes the holes plug with scabs or sutures or whatever. They always rupture open again.

The worst part of it my holes are all self inflicted. I can suffer alone. I have learned to manage or exist over the years. I am feeling really guilty though about my daughter. I have screwed up my finances. Each trip to see her is at least $300. I have to rent a car and hotel rooms add up.

Karma is a bitch. No matter how we try, we can't escape our Karma. Like I said, I deserve what I have sown. My eleven year old daughter, my beautiful little girl, didn't.

Today is Easter. My Dad said he had a rough day today. He's not a religious man. He said the Holidays are rough. I can't imagine the hole in his heart. I can't imagine losing your wife of forty five years.

peace

dumbdavid

Donnie Darko

I wish more movies were original, thought provoking and creative as the movie I just watched. Considering tonight is the night of the Oscars, I chose to watch Donnie Darko instead. What a mind fuck! I have watched many movies in my life. I usually can figure out what is going to happen in a movie. There are not too many movies that I immediately wanted to watch over just to figure out what I just saw. Donnie Darko is one of those.

It's not perfect by any means. There were some stereotypical characters in the movie. The rest of the movie was like an acid trip that you can't turn off or want to. I studied psychology in school and have extensive work experience with mentally ill people, including paranoid schizophrenics. I thought the Donnie's hallucinations were really articulate for someone not familiar with schizophrenia to understand.

I have sat in on interviews of some profoundly disturbed people. It's hard to translate their experience from their words. I thought the writer/director really captured this experience. It makes it even more frightening considering the number of mass shootings recently. I am not going into the debate over privacy rights of mental health patients and public safety.

"How much did they pay you for being here?"

peace

dumbdavid

Secret Admirer/Stalker?

Well, the last four days have been very weird and interesting. I have received two cards, two silk roses, one chocolate rose and a pink stuff animal with a heart with words, "Hug Me" on it. It started Monday night when I came home from work. There was a simple Valentines card that had "Guess Who?" at the bottom of it, hanging from my front door. Tuesday night I found a chocolate rose on my windshield at work. It also had the Guess Who on it. Wednesday night there was a red silk rose with a Hershey's bar taped to hanging on my door. I found a pink silk rose last night with another card and the stuff animal hanging on my door.

I won't mention who I think it might be but they haven't come forward and I am not sure either. It's funny that this is happening right now. I recently had the selfish thought that it would be nice for a change if a woman would hit on me. Surprise, surprise I have a secret admirer/stalker. This unknown person knows which apartment is mine and where I work. They also seem to be aware of my work schedule.

It's exciting, scary and surprisingly stressful trying to understand and deal with this. I didn't realize how comfortable my isolated bubble had become. I told my Dad that it's like being on a carnival ride. I can't tell which way is up. I think he is excited for me too.

The last note said, "If you know who I am come and see me, if you want to". I am afraid that if I don't show they will think I am rejecting them. I talked to my landlady about this today. I am hoping she will pass it on to this mysterious person that I am interested, possibly.

The cynic in me thinks God is just having a joke at my expense. It wouldn't be the first time he has answered one of my random thoughts with a slightly off answer to my question. Who knows. Whoever you are, let me know. I am an idiot for not being able to figure it out.

peace

dumbdavid

A lot like love

I started writing this blog and the original at diaryland anonymously. I did this in the attempt that I would be more honest. I was worried I would be too self editing and not forthcoming with my feelings otherwise. I made a simple rule, be honest and true. Recently, I broke the anonymous nature by putting someone's real name in this blog. I struggle with removing it or not removing it.

I questioned myself on why I put it in. I also included a picture. I guess, I hoped that she would find this blog. I wondered what would happen if she contacted me again. I won't go find her. I moved away to give her the space and dignity she deserved. Neither of us needed to see each other anyway.

Time changes everything doesn't it? I watched "A lot like love" tonight. I had seen it before. The main characters meet and then keep finding each other over the following years. Hollywood being it's sappy self brings them together in the end of the movie. Kleenex please.

Life isn't that way, I know. I am having a pity party. Woe is David. The guy had lots of chances he couldn't make work. Lots of pretty faces to choose from. I wonder if I am suppose to spend the rest of my life alone now like my father. My mom will be dead three years this April. He can't move on and at 68 I understand. I am 42 and going no where fast.

I am sorry if I hurt you again Eileen by including you in this blog. I am just trying to sort through this mess of my life.

peace

dumbdavid

A Father's regret

I just finished watching Hope Floats again with Sandra Bullock. She has a daughter in the movie who is a little younger than mine. Sandra and her husband in the movie are separated and going through a divorce. The daughter has a big emotional scene when her father comes to visit. She tries to leave with him[against his wishes]. He is selfish a rejects her. The girl breaks down in a horribly painful way. It sucks to watch as an absent father.

I hardly see my daughter now. It's been almost a month again since I saw her. I call her once a week. We talk for less than five minutes each time. She is growing up and I am blowing it. I feel trapped where I am.

I feel bad because I wish for my inheritance. I could move down near her again then. I am too poor to do it otherwise. I sometimes wish I had never moved up here. I have grown to know my father more since I moved here. I have lost some of my relationship with my daughter that I will never get back.

My daughter deserves a better father. I need to man up and find a solution to this problem. I am also worried that recurring sadness is creeping back in. I have noticed I am down a lot more recently. My dad has even commented on it. I am at a loss for answers. None seem to be coming either. My car is dying and I can't afford another one. What to do?

peace

dumbdavid

Her in my shoebox

The shoe box contains pictures of her. It holds my memories of her. The ones I can’t let go of or deal with. Most people don’t save these mementos of a lost love. I know I have thrown out stuff like this before. My ex-wife even found old letters from my college sweetheart and made me throw them out.

I opened the shoe box today looking for something else. The box isn’t labeled for her. I have several old shoe boxes stuffed with junk. I had forgotten what this specific box held. I opened it and saw her face. It wouldn’t of mattered how I opened the box. Her face was staring up at me waiting for me to open again.

It hard to believe that almost seven years has passed since she left me. Looking back, it is easier to understand how it didn't work out for us. There was too many obstacles in our way. I sometimes regret that time with her. I would be lying if I said I didn't. I am grateful for that time too.

It was one of the most intense, emotional, chaotic and meaningful times of my life. I wouldn't as healthy as I am now if I hadn't lived through that time. Eileen Lahti opened doors in me I didn't know existed. The fact that I am sitting here typing is a testament to her. She sparked the first words in my adult writing life. It was during our first separation that I found sobriety. I will always be grateful for that.

She didn't push me torwards it[sobriety]. She was the first person outside of AA that accepted as an alcoholic. My own family wouldn't, even to this day.

Her picture in the shoe box. Her beautiful brown eyes aren't diminished by the years or the age of the photo. I remember the day I met her. It was her brown eyes that stunned me. It was ironic that it was her wedding day. She married my best friend. I was already married to someone else. I could only think, "How did he[my friend] get so lucky?" He had hid her away from most of us. I guess for good reason.

I fell in love with the woman in my shoe box. It took several years but it was inevitable. Fate, destiny, fuck I don't know. One can make an argument both ways whether man has control over his fate.


Her in my shoe box

Shoe boxes full of memories and heartache
Was it ever so real as today feels
A surgically enhanced version of truth
Photographs capture the instant of rapture
Locking agony step in step along side


peace

dumb david

Saturday

It's Saturday and I am doing laundry and not much more. I just finished watching Land of Women. It was a bit contrived about a writer who goes to visit his Grandmother as she is dying. He meets the neighbors, Meg Ryan and Kristin Stewart, mother/daughter. It's not a bad movie but kind of cliche with Meg Ryan being diagnosed with breast cancer.

The movie made me think about writing. The main character is going through a dry spell after being dumped by his girlfriend. I haven't been writing much either. I have completely stopped writing poetry. I remember when there were times when I couldn't get the words out of my head fast enough. I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with lines for a new poem.

I switch now back and forth between short stories that I don't finish to narratives, again I don't finish. I am all about the non-finish. I get wound up with an idea and I run with it for awhile until I get bored. I have a couple of stories that are finished. They just need some hard work editing.

I wonder if I am a real writer sometimes. I am not published or anything. I am sure there are lots of people who wish they were writers but don't ever write. I can at least say I tried. I emotionally invested myself in the words I put down. I don't write about trivial or mundane things.

It would be great to be recognized someday with being published. I don't think self publishing a chapbook of poems counts. I am not knocking my poems but it's not the same as being published by a real publishing company.

I am blessed with the opportunity to write. I think it's better to wet the page with ink than to just daydream about it. It doesn't matter how good the words are.

We can't all be Hemingway

peace

dumbdavid

Ice Storm

It's not just a controversial film of the 1970's, by Ang Lee. It follows two dysfuntional families over a the Thanksgiving break one year. The two couples are screwed up with an affair at the middle of it. I didn't mean this to be a review. I just wanted the reader to understand where I am coming from. An ice storm actually hits during the last part of the movie. Elijah Wood of LOTR fame plays one of the couples son's. Tobey Macguire is another. Wood is out running around during the storm when a power pole falls down and arcs into the guardrail he is sitting on. He is electrocuted.

They show the aftermath of the death of Wood. I had seen the movie before but had forgotten that Wood's had a younger brother in the movie. It was very tough witnessing the younger brother facing his older brothers death.

I wrote recently about my nephews suicide. My daughter visited this weekend to celebrate Christmas. She went to the funeral last Saturday for him. I gently brought up the subject. We talked a long time with her guiding the conversation. I was supportive and understanding. I can't imagine how hard it's for her at age 11. She was only six years apart from her cousin. We talked about my brother who committed suicide.

I volunteered to her that I have known six people now who have committed suicide. They were three relatives and three friends. My daughter and I talked about each person and their circumstances. I told her I loved her very much. I let her know that anytime she wanted to talk about Johnny[her cousin] or anything it was all right. I want to her be able to express her feelings normally and not be repressed like I was.

Can you imagine being in a household where a child dies and everyone pretends like it never happened. They pretend like the child never existed unless an outside party brings up the subject. I grew up in this household.

peace

dumbdavid