Innuendo

There’s a shadow just behind me,
shrouding every breath I take,
making every promise empty,
pointing every finger at me.
Waiting like a stalking butler
who upon the finger rests.
Murder now the path called “must we”
just before the son has come.
Jesus, won’t you fucking whistle
something but the past and done?

Why can’t we not be sober?
I just want to start this over.
Why can’t we drink forever.
I just want to start things over.

I am just a worthless liar.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you.
I will chew it up and leave,
I will work to elevate you
just enough to bring you down.

Trust me.

Mother Mary won’t you whisper
something but what’s past and done.

Trust me.

I want what I want.
I want what I want.
I want what I want.

I get the coolest mail of anybody I know. Today provided: 1: A butcher’s coat, complete with bloodstain. 2: An awl/ icepick. 3: A huge, heavy, dirty, menacing butcher’s cleaver. 4: A gorgeous old straight razor in excellent condition. Thank you, boy. Travel safe, wherever the hell it is you are heading. You’re always going to be “punk” to me. Get used to it.

A break from the usual dark, obtuse entries, because sometimes you have to ask… “Are you crazy? You have GOT to be kidding. I mean- are you for real? What are you on?”

It’s been a very stressful month and change. Most of the stress has come directly from the poison pen of some very hurt and angry people. So, I give what slack I can. People act irrationally when they are hurt. But then it suddenly becomes clear that some of them really are out of their minds. Pain is irrelevant- they are just stark slavering buggo. Barking mad. Fruitbats.

So, after weeks of vicious, hurtful slander and attacks, I have finally gotten most of my animal’s things out of her ex’s apartment (Which is a story unto itself. Rather than tell it here, I’d recomend the myth of the twelve labors of Hercules- most notably the Augean Stables; the hotel room description in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and the poetry of Charles Bukowski. ). However, that stuff was leverage for them. It was important to my animal, or we’d have long ago abandoned it, and not had to deal with the horror.
But; while they had it, they had something.

So we dealt with the attacks, we dealt with the slander, I kept silent, bided my time. Even when faced with hypocrisy, denial and outright nuttiness.

So, early the morning of the move, I was awoken by a phone call from a very dear friend. This woman is loyalty and integrity, wrapped in an exeedingly hot, curvy wrapper and adorned with red lipstick and diamond earrings. For reasons I cannot reason, the ex’s continue to call her, and explain what a terrible creature my animal is. I understand the compulsion which has been driving one of them to yammer slander at everone who wanders into her blast radius- that’s nothing new- but to seek out someone who you know does not like you or believe a word you say and try to convince her that her best friend is Satan’s Minion?

Please.

Well, this effort ended predictably.
Essentially, our friend said:

“I don’t ever want to hear you spread these lies about my friend again. I don’t ever want to hear that you are telling anyone else these lies. This is what I think of you- (insert scathing blast of invective here)- and that is exactly what I’ll tell everyone within the sound of my voice should I ever get wind of this kind of shit in the future.”

Among these colorful descriptions was one word which causes a great deal of controversy in our circles. We’ll call it the A-word. This word can be very socially hurtful around these parts. It is what they call “fightin’ words.”

When I arrive to pack and pick up the stuff, I am taken aside by one of the two ex’s and treated to the following (paraphrased):

“Flagg, you know I don’t like you, and you know by now that I have been trashing your name and that of (your animal) to everyone who stands still long enough for me to yammer the story out- but I only say things which are what I perceive your reputation to be anyway, so it’s okay.

But now someone is threatening to say bad things about us- not you, but someone you know- and that’s not right, and I want you to put a stop to it.”

You’re kidding, right?

But wait, there’s more.

I get home after moving the stuff out. Now note, with the belongings moved, their leverage is gone. They have no hostage. apparently, the shift in paradigm is recognizable… as a very polite email awaits me. (Paraphrasing), it says:

“We never said anything bad to you, and have never been vile or hurtful. And maybe someday you’ll recognize how swell we are being and come for dinner; and we like the status quo of giving you shit and never hearing a bad word in return… but that is never going to happen if this person says anything bad about us! If she does… no biscuit for you!”

So… to keep the status quo of listening to you slander me and mine, I have to stop a third party from expressing her opinion about you? according to the rules you set down for me, someone else is just talking within your reputation- so that can’t be wrong.

This is a joke, right? You can’t be serious.

Let’s look at this from a different angle:
You have no leverage. From this point on, the tone and quality of your communications has direct bearing on my/our bothering to listen. Yes, you have a right to share your feelings- but no, you can’t force me to pay the slightest attention. To put it simply: The amount of attention I pay is directly and inversely proprtional to the unpleasantness of dealing with you. No- one owes you anything for your feelings.

On the other hand, there is a third party who is just waiting for you to start screeching again, so she can put what she thinks of you out there.
Nothing to do with me. She’s defending her friend… and will do so in the very fishpond you’ve been so busy pissing in.

Perhaps you should reconsider your tactics from here on in? Just a thought.

:shakes head:

Fallout was to be expected.

Insanity, however, is always a surprise.

People say and think terrible things when they are hurt. I remind myself of that to try and keep some perspective while they savage someone who was important to them, who is important to me.

It’s the same old saw. It’s the same old outrage and angst, with the same old justifications:

If you leave, you never loved at all.
If you say you did, you are lying. If you ever said you did, you therefore were always lying.
If you don’t agree, you can’t be listening.
I’m in pain- so you must be made to suffer for it.

Grow up, people.

So yes, I’m tired. It’s an enormous drain on my animal, and there is only so much I can do to help. There is an concerted effort going on to turn love to hate, and if they keep it up, that’s exactly what they will get.
But in the end, it really does not matter how tired I am.

What matters is that I provide a home for myself and my animal.
Background noise is, in the end, irrelevant.

Brought to you by the Goth-O-Matic poetry generator, for Ken: He who’se smile taunteth me, who’se eyes flash with bitter mockery, who’se back hair singeth a siren’s song (and does the wave… it’s disturbing, but cool.)

Devoid of Love

the night falls without a sound, soulless are we.
the salvation for which you sacrifice yourself
flares once, then dies,
smothered by your obsession.
all hope must sicken and die.

your passion throbs no more.
how could you fail to believe?
angels surround us, crying,
save us from ourselves.

I die

Thank you, Goth-O-Matic… you said all the things I never could.
Well, I’m off to slit my wrists.

And neither does love.

People often think they are owed something because they love. It’s not true, it never was. When “I love you” really means “You owe me” it’s not love. It’s desperation, greed, insecurity.

Dreams make no promises, and sometimes love is not enough.

I’m sorry, but anybody who tells you otherwise is selling you something.

Infidel baby

Until this song is sung

Musk - The Church

Recently my animal was asked what the terms of our contract were. She answered “None. We have no contract.” This has come as a surprise to a lot of people, and a few months ago it would have been unthinkable to me.

She asked me how I’d describe it. “organic” was my answer. The best term for a process as natural as bleeding, as inevitable as sleep. You can put it off- but you can’t be alive without it. That term was taught to me in October by my twin; but at the time I had no way of understanding it. I was approaching it from the outside- sometimes I still find myself there. Old habits die hard…. but when I catch myself Doublethinking and Newspeaking, I can now shut it down and just be.

At MaST meetings, I used to identify myself as a Trainer. Now I know myself as an Owner. I have found a satisfaction in Ownership that I did not previously understand; that it is not a means to an end but a state unto itself, bearing it’s own rewards - if you let it.

Simplicity.

“Night may come and clock may sound, / Within your shadow I am bound. ” Guillaume Apollinaire

I gave my presentation on Voice and Inflection at TES last night. It went splendidly. Much better than I could have expected. 50+ person turnout, with a minimum of numbnuts. Great audience response, good interaction, and a few helpful people in the crowd to intimidate to make a point otr two.

I thought of my friend Jester, and wished he’d been there- he’s always had an eye for- and appreciation of- the tricks and tools I’ve used. I think he would have had a great time, and I could almost hear him laughing in the crowd. When I spoke, I was vividly reminded of times and people whose absence I still feel keenly, and of the secret language of twins. I could feel moments I had shared with them flickering through my teeth like a serpent’s tongue, and I shared a little of the poison scorpions trade when mating.

Not more then they could handle. Not even close to the truth of it all- but just a taste; and a taste is really nothing at all. My animal was in attendance, and others were just as present- in what I said, in what I shared, in what I’ve learned.

I received this from someone I did not previously know. I found it absurdly flattering- so naturally, I have to post it here. My vanity demands no less:

A Lesson about gender

multiple genders.

There was one other thing which is worth noting. Social dynamics were surging and straining all around me. Anger is beginning to surface, and things will have to get worse before they get better. But during all this, one person showed me yet again that he has his heart in the right place, that he’s someone I can count on. Almost makes a guy want to enlist in the Kiss Army. Almost.

Thank you, Pete.

Love Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you with knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-Neruda