A sad day for Pakistan.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
And Now The Final Frame…, Cont.
A CHRONICLE OF ONE MAN'S DIVORCE
*$&%Q@!*(@*$!!(*$&%! Sadly, there's a limit to the pathos I can bare in this forum without airing dirty laundry.
That said, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! FUCK!
*$&%Q@!*(@*$!!(*$&%! Sadly, there's a limit to the pathos I can bare in this forum without airing dirty laundry.
That said, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! FUCK!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
And Now The Final Frame…, Cont.
A CHRONICLE OF ONE MAN'S DIVORCE
Phew, feeling much better today. I'd forgotten how therapeutic writing can be. That and a good sob session. Yeah, I cried last night. It was a long time coming and I'm fucking relieved I got it out of my system. For months now, I've had moments when I could feel tears well up, then recede. Like that feeling you get when you're about to sneeze but can't. It's irritating as hell and leaves you craving the actual event. Last night I finally fucking sneezed.
And it felt good. And shitty. But mostly good. I realized last night that there's something deliciously perverse about sobbing. You do it (usually) because you're feeling sadness or grief and, sure, those feelings linger for a while throughout. But at the same time, the actual action of sobbing feels physically good, primally satisfying, pleasurable. I almost didn't want it to pass. But pass it did, and consequently, I'm feeling much better today. Still, I'm thinking of some things that didn't get explored last night.
Like the Cascading Effect.
I've developed this theory that when a relationship is near its end, there is a dovetailing of events that happen with increasing frequency and frustration and spiral faster and faster downwards until crashing. It reminds me of the dying process of an elderly person, who suddenly starts exhibiting one illness after the other until the body is overwhelmed. Any one thing (diabetes, heart issues) might be beatable, but collectively, it's too much and the body succumbs. In the case of marriage, its miscommunications, misunderstandings, angry words, missed timing, etc., etc, things that tend to reflect and amplify the issues that were prominent in the relationship. And it's feels like you're powerless to break the pattern, like you can't do anything right.
Once I recognized it, I began seeing the humor in it. I mean, when one thing after another keeps going wrong, sometimes you just have to laugh at the absurdity of the situation and roll with it.
Then, I could almost see a bright line—like guiding lights on a runway or a AAA Triptik (yeesh, never mind dating other people, I just dated myself)—from each one of these moments to every problem or fight or challenge we ever had, especially recent ones. It's as if, suddenly, years of marriage are reduced to an object lesson in everything a) inherently problematic with the relationship, and b) I did that contributed to its downfall. Each moment becomes a case in point of why it couldn't have worked, why it was doomed from the beginning (if only we could have seen it). Or a chance to examine just how badly you fucked up in that moment and if only you'd done X, Y, or Z, things would be different now.
It's crazy-making, sure, and of course only part of the truth, but there it is. Until it isn't.
***********
So, today's a new day and a beautiful one. Not feeling the grief or elation or anticipation or dread of the past several weeks, just a calm centeredness. And for now, that's just perfect.
Phew, feeling much better today. I'd forgotten how therapeutic writing can be. That and a good sob session. Yeah, I cried last night. It was a long time coming and I'm fucking relieved I got it out of my system. For months now, I've had moments when I could feel tears well up, then recede. Like that feeling you get when you're about to sneeze but can't. It's irritating as hell and leaves you craving the actual event. Last night I finally fucking sneezed.
And it felt good. And shitty. But mostly good. I realized last night that there's something deliciously perverse about sobbing. You do it (usually) because you're feeling sadness or grief and, sure, those feelings linger for a while throughout. But at the same time, the actual action of sobbing feels physically good, primally satisfying, pleasurable. I almost didn't want it to pass. But pass it did, and consequently, I'm feeling much better today. Still, I'm thinking of some things that didn't get explored last night.
Like the Cascading Effect.
I've developed this theory that when a relationship is near its end, there is a dovetailing of events that happen with increasing frequency and frustration and spiral faster and faster downwards until crashing. It reminds me of the dying process of an elderly person, who suddenly starts exhibiting one illness after the other until the body is overwhelmed. Any one thing (diabetes, heart issues) might be beatable, but collectively, it's too much and the body succumbs. In the case of marriage, its miscommunications, misunderstandings, angry words, missed timing, etc., etc, things that tend to reflect and amplify the issues that were prominent in the relationship. And it's feels like you're powerless to break the pattern, like you can't do anything right.
Once I recognized it, I began seeing the humor in it. I mean, when one thing after another keeps going wrong, sometimes you just have to laugh at the absurdity of the situation and roll with it.
Then, I could almost see a bright line—like guiding lights on a runway or a AAA Triptik (yeesh, never mind dating other people, I just dated myself)—from each one of these moments to every problem or fight or challenge we ever had, especially recent ones. It's as if, suddenly, years of marriage are reduced to an object lesson in everything a) inherently problematic with the relationship, and b) I did that contributed to its downfall. Each moment becomes a case in point of why it couldn't have worked, why it was doomed from the beginning (if only we could have seen it). Or a chance to examine just how badly you fucked up in that moment and if only you'd done X, Y, or Z, things would be different now.
It's crazy-making, sure, and of course only part of the truth, but there it is. Until it isn't.
***********
So, today's a new day and a beautiful one. Not feeling the grief or elation or anticipation or dread of the past several weeks, just a calm centeredness. And for now, that's just perfect.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
And Now The Final Frame…
A CHRONICLE OF ONE MAN'S DIVORCE
No one tells you how grueling, how eviscerating, it's going to be. Not that it would help to have any warning. It couldn't capture the feeling and wouldn't deter most of us anyway. Because when a marriage is dying the course of action feels inevitable.
Still, even in its death throes we cling. We break out the paddles, rub on the gel, yell clear, and—buh-bam—shock the torso over and over and over, searching frantically for signs of life. Mouth to mouth, check. Shot of adrenaline, check. Beg, bargain, plead, check.
Sometimes, I suppose, for some couples, the measures work. Too often they don't.
Self Professed, Profound
Life since the split has been…disorienting. I didn't feel it deeply at first. We framed it as a trial thing and it was good to be doing something—anything—different. Apparently, she grieved a lot at first. That I didn't just underscored one of the bigger issues in our marriage: pacing.
Anyway, while I was hanging out in limbo, she began moving on. Looking back, I suppose I was in denial, but it felt then like a much-needed vacation that we could possibly return from refreshed and renewed. In reality, we were just continuing our drift apart. No—in reality, I was continuing my drift. She'd picked up her oars and started rowing.
Now, I say limbo, but it actually felt different than the word suggests. Life felt big again. My horizons seemed limitless and enticing. I was working out more than ever. Started doing yoga again. I was getting more work and doing better work than ever. I felt like I had in my 20s, minus the angst. I was actually reveling in my perhaps-temporary bachelorhood. I was sad that we were apart, but it was tempered by newfound mental health and a sense of liberation.
Till The Chips Were Down
I felt my first wave of grief when she talked about moving away. I wasn't surprised by her discussion of the move. Moving had been in consideration for a year at least. Still, it hit me hard. Made our split more real.
Honestly, the grief was welcome. I was beginning to think that I was callous and shallow and that the marriage hadn't meant anything to me. (Of course, it did, but the mind can be a vicious bastard.) Still, I was wary of it. After years of therapy, initiation ceremonies, anti-depressants, a wilderness fast, and medicine ceremonies, I've attained the mental health mentioned above and I was wary of losing the ground I'd achieved. I was afraid of spiraling downward into depression.
Which, thankfully, didn't happen. The grief passed in a couple of days, I continued pouring myself into work, and we continued our near-daily check in calls.
A Losing Hand
Until one night, maybe a month into the separation, she called to tell me she'd started seeing someone. It's funny, I knew by the tone of her voice before the words ever came out of her mouth. (Now, I start reading her well?!) All I could do was smile. I had the strangest feeling of relief, followed by laughter, only then followed by shock. I happened to be in Safeway and walked around the store mindlessly with a carton of chocolate milk, my latest guilty pleasure. (Eventually I set it down on a random shelf—it took me ten minutes to track it down.) Once we got off the phone and the shock started to subside, I called a friend and went out for drinks.
I wasn't angry. I wasn't even that surprised. But I was stunned. I mean, I knew the day was coming. Hell, just the day before I thought to myself, "I know she's going to hook up before I do. That's going to be tough, but part of the process. Wonder when it'll happen." All while thinking it was going to happen in a couple of months or more. Once it sunk in, though, all I could think was now?!? Little more than a month after our separation? Fuck.
**********
Not long after that I spent the night with a good friend. It was a sweet night and I thought just what I needed (and hopefully what she needed, too). But the initial elation gave way to realization that I was still energetically attached to my marriage. (Given everything I've ever believed about love and sex and my relation to the two, this was indescribably painful and loathsome to learn.)
A Fate Resigned
Since then, and after a couple of unbearably awkward interactions with the new guy, the disorientation has accelerated. I've cycled through anger, sadness, brief moments of calm, terrifying fear, bargaining, grief, acceptance.
The week before last was my roughest. One night, in a pit of despair, I wailed in grief, and mentally flailed for someone to relieve my pain. I thought about calling friends. I considered calling her while she was away with her new guy. I considered writing her. Somehow, by the grace of the gods or a momentary lapse of poor judgement, I found the restraint not to. Instead I wrote a song. Its writing offered a surprising succor, though one that was too brief.…
Last weekend, away from town on a journey intended as a fun vacation away from this emotional stew, I spent a sleepless night creating fantasy rom-com scenarios in which we got back together and made it work. My thoughts were tormented, what little sleep I did get was troubled, and my body was wracked from the reality settling in.
Over Futile Odds
And then came another swing. Upon my return to town, I checked in with Facebook to see what was happening. While on, I got an IM from a woman I'd met at an ayahuasca ceremony I'd taken part in in January. She was attractive and we'd had a brief connection and I liked her energy, but it was such an absurd scenario to meet someone in that I just filed it under "brief gift from the universe" and let it go.
Anyway, she IMs me and suggests we grab some food when she's in town this weekend (she lives three hours away). Now, it's not clear to me whether she's talking just having a bite with a cool new friend, or whether she's thinking, date. But I'm saying yes to as much as possible nowadays, so I agree.
Okay, really what happened in my mind was "Goddamn, I just had a grueling two-three weeks, capped by a horrendous night, then followed by a sobering talk with my soon-to-be ex-wife, and here's this stunningly beautiful and sweet woman who's reaching out to spend time with me and, good fucking christ, yes, I'm going to have dinner or lunch or mother fucking crumbs with her." (Where's that eye-roll emoticon, damn it?)
As I said, I couldn't suss out whether she was thinking date or hang out with new friend, but I made a decision to think date and to allow myself to get excited by it. I needed something to shift my energy. And I've played it so safe so often, I just decided it was time to lean into a different stance.
You can see where this is going…
We connected via phone later in the week and made a tentative plan for Fri. night. It was starting to sound more like a date, but idiot that I am, I never got clear with her. (And she wasn't a very clear communicator. Or her style of communication is so different from mine I couldn't grok what might have been clear to her. Or I'm just plain obtuse.) I figured I'd get a chance to suss it all out over dinner or drinks or something.
Except it never got to that point. I won't go into details, but the night shifted far from my expectations, I ended up way off center, felt extremely vulnerable and like an awkward 13-year-old, and we never really got a chance to connect. We parted ways at 10 pm and I spent the remainder of the night leaning on a very gracious friend. One last try to get together the next morning fell through, too.
And Laughed At By The Gods
And now for another low. I know that I fucked myself over with the expectations game. I knew the risk when I decided to play it. But I need to do things differently at this stage in my life. I needed to throw myself into the excitement and the anticipation of a possible new connection. And I was thinking, we've already had Ashland's version of the meet-cute, so how could it go wrong?
Whatever. All this shows me is that I'm still in way too vulnerable of a place to be messing with the capriciousness of romantic love. (Again, a loathsome realization.) Which is fine. As it should be I guess. And frankly, I should be thrilled to be free of the meshugenah.
I've resigned myself to a months-long stretch of self-improvement and serious rom-com avoidance.
And I'm left with an endless loop of Amy Winehouse tunes and Dorothy Parker's famous quip coursing through my brain ready for the next thing to come my way: "What fresh hell is this?"
No one tells you how grueling, how eviscerating, it's going to be. Not that it would help to have any warning. It couldn't capture the feeling and wouldn't deter most of us anyway. Because when a marriage is dying the course of action feels inevitable.
Still, even in its death throes we cling. We break out the paddles, rub on the gel, yell clear, and—buh-bam—shock the torso over and over and over, searching frantically for signs of life. Mouth to mouth, check. Shot of adrenaline, check. Beg, bargain, plead, check.
Sometimes, I suppose, for some couples, the measures work. Too often they don't.
Self Professed, Profound
Life since the split has been…disorienting. I didn't feel it deeply at first. We framed it as a trial thing and it was good to be doing something—anything—different. Apparently, she grieved a lot at first. That I didn't just underscored one of the bigger issues in our marriage: pacing.
Anyway, while I was hanging out in limbo, she began moving on. Looking back, I suppose I was in denial, but it felt then like a much-needed vacation that we could possibly return from refreshed and renewed. In reality, we were just continuing our drift apart. No—in reality, I was continuing my drift. She'd picked up her oars and started rowing.
Now, I say limbo, but it actually felt different than the word suggests. Life felt big again. My horizons seemed limitless and enticing. I was working out more than ever. Started doing yoga again. I was getting more work and doing better work than ever. I felt like I had in my 20s, minus the angst. I was actually reveling in my perhaps-temporary bachelorhood. I was sad that we were apart, but it was tempered by newfound mental health and a sense of liberation.
Till The Chips Were Down
I felt my first wave of grief when she talked about moving away. I wasn't surprised by her discussion of the move. Moving had been in consideration for a year at least. Still, it hit me hard. Made our split more real.
Honestly, the grief was welcome. I was beginning to think that I was callous and shallow and that the marriage hadn't meant anything to me. (Of course, it did, but the mind can be a vicious bastard.) Still, I was wary of it. After years of therapy, initiation ceremonies, anti-depressants, a wilderness fast, and medicine ceremonies, I've attained the mental health mentioned above and I was wary of losing the ground I'd achieved. I was afraid of spiraling downward into depression.
Which, thankfully, didn't happen. The grief passed in a couple of days, I continued pouring myself into work, and we continued our near-daily check in calls.
A Losing Hand
Until one night, maybe a month into the separation, she called to tell me she'd started seeing someone. It's funny, I knew by the tone of her voice before the words ever came out of her mouth. (Now, I start reading her well?!) All I could do was smile. I had the strangest feeling of relief, followed by laughter, only then followed by shock. I happened to be in Safeway and walked around the store mindlessly with a carton of chocolate milk, my latest guilty pleasure. (Eventually I set it down on a random shelf—it took me ten minutes to track it down.) Once we got off the phone and the shock started to subside, I called a friend and went out for drinks.
I wasn't angry. I wasn't even that surprised. But I was stunned. I mean, I knew the day was coming. Hell, just the day before I thought to myself, "I know she's going to hook up before I do. That's going to be tough, but part of the process. Wonder when it'll happen." All while thinking it was going to happen in a couple of months or more. Once it sunk in, though, all I could think was now?!? Little more than a month after our separation? Fuck.
**********
Not long after that I spent the night with a good friend. It was a sweet night and I thought just what I needed (and hopefully what she needed, too). But the initial elation gave way to realization that I was still energetically attached to my marriage. (Given everything I've ever believed about love and sex and my relation to the two, this was indescribably painful and loathsome to learn.)
A Fate Resigned
Since then, and after a couple of unbearably awkward interactions with the new guy, the disorientation has accelerated. I've cycled through anger, sadness, brief moments of calm, terrifying fear, bargaining, grief, acceptance.
The week before last was my roughest. One night, in a pit of despair, I wailed in grief, and mentally flailed for someone to relieve my pain. I thought about calling friends. I considered calling her while she was away with her new guy. I considered writing her. Somehow, by the grace of the gods or a momentary lapse of poor judgement, I found the restraint not to. Instead I wrote a song. Its writing offered a surprising succor, though one that was too brief.…
Last weekend, away from town on a journey intended as a fun vacation away from this emotional stew, I spent a sleepless night creating fantasy rom-com scenarios in which we got back together and made it work. My thoughts were tormented, what little sleep I did get was troubled, and my body was wracked from the reality settling in.
Over Futile Odds
And then came another swing. Upon my return to town, I checked in with Facebook to see what was happening. While on, I got an IM from a woman I'd met at an ayahuasca ceremony I'd taken part in in January. She was attractive and we'd had a brief connection and I liked her energy, but it was such an absurd scenario to meet someone in that I just filed it under "brief gift from the universe" and let it go.
Anyway, she IMs me and suggests we grab some food when she's in town this weekend (she lives three hours away). Now, it's not clear to me whether she's talking just having a bite with a cool new friend, or whether she's thinking, date. But I'm saying yes to as much as possible nowadays, so I agree.
Okay, really what happened in my mind was "Goddamn, I just had a grueling two-three weeks, capped by a horrendous night, then followed by a sobering talk with my soon-to-be ex-wife, and here's this stunningly beautiful and sweet woman who's reaching out to spend time with me and, good fucking christ, yes, I'm going to have dinner or lunch or mother fucking crumbs with her." (Where's that eye-roll emoticon, damn it?)
As I said, I couldn't suss out whether she was thinking date or hang out with new friend, but I made a decision to think date and to allow myself to get excited by it. I needed something to shift my energy. And I've played it so safe so often, I just decided it was time to lean into a different stance.
You can see where this is going…
We connected via phone later in the week and made a tentative plan for Fri. night. It was starting to sound more like a date, but idiot that I am, I never got clear with her. (And she wasn't a very clear communicator. Or her style of communication is so different from mine I couldn't grok what might have been clear to her. Or I'm just plain obtuse.) I figured I'd get a chance to suss it all out over dinner or drinks or something.
Except it never got to that point. I won't go into details, but the night shifted far from my expectations, I ended up way off center, felt extremely vulnerable and like an awkward 13-year-old, and we never really got a chance to connect. We parted ways at 10 pm and I spent the remainder of the night leaning on a very gracious friend. One last try to get together the next morning fell through, too.
And Laughed At By The Gods
And now for another low. I know that I fucked myself over with the expectations game. I knew the risk when I decided to play it. But I need to do things differently at this stage in my life. I needed to throw myself into the excitement and the anticipation of a possible new connection. And I was thinking, we've already had Ashland's version of the meet-cute, so how could it go wrong?
Whatever. All this shows me is that I'm still in way too vulnerable of a place to be messing with the capriciousness of romantic love. (Again, a loathsome realization.) Which is fine. As it should be I guess. And frankly, I should be thrilled to be free of the meshugenah.
I've resigned myself to a months-long stretch of self-improvement and serious rom-com avoidance.
And I'm left with an endless loop of Amy Winehouse tunes and Dorothy Parker's famous quip coursing through my brain ready for the next thing to come my way: "What fresh hell is this?"
And Watch The Dream Die
Lyrics to the first song I've written in years. Amazing what heartache will do for the creative juices…
And Watch the Dream Die
You're gone for good E
You've made your choice now. A
And if I could A
I'd really love to hear your voice now. E
And even though you're miles away E
I feel you like you're next to me A
But I know that's illusion A
I know you've set me free B
Still I don't want to say goodbye B
And watch the dream die E
We took a mighty chance E
We took a fearsome risk A
It shouldn't surprise me now A
that it would come to this. E
But I thought that we'd do better E
I thought that we'd appeased the gods A
I really didn't see the hubris A
in thinking that we'd beat the odds. E
And I've got nothing to offer
you haven't seen before
and you're not interested
in that stuff anymore
Yet I'd give it all to you
if I thought you'd return
If I thought that you'd be happy
If I thought that I could learn
But I don't want to say goodbye B
And watch the dream die E
bridge
It's not late to hesitate, to turn around G
We could push through, we could undo what brought us down C
Just take my hand, repair this band that's torn apart G
F We'll find our way back, end up in C each other's heart G E
Yeah, I know better than that
to want to have you back
You've found a new one now
you've head on down the track
We are now a memory
A broken story line
A piece of history
An old, discarded sign
Still, I don't want to say goodbye
And watch the dream die
No, I don't want to say goodbye
And watch the dream die
But I know it's time to say goodbye
And watch the dream die
Christ, I'm Fucked
Marriage is harrowing, divorce grueling, dating terrifying, and being single bleak. Shit.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Crazy 'Bout A Mercury
Bring on the retrograde:
Yes, Mercury Is in Retrograde. So What?
Perhaps you’ve noticed that things have gone a bit screwy the past couple of weeks.
Traffic jams materialize out of nowhere. Your luggage makes an unscheduled stop in Sumatra. The computer eats your dissertation. Your favorite political party loses control of both houses of Congress.
If you have friends who follow the stars, they may have had a ready explanation for you: the planet Mercury is in retrograde.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Flood Of Idiocy
Reading the wack-jobs so you don't have to. This, from the Baptist Press:
'Gay marriage' in Iowa more damaging than a 500-year flood
The Flood of 2008 is arguably the most destructive disaster that the state of Iowa has seen -- at least, that is, until last Friday.
On April 3, the Iowa Supreme Court unanimously ruled that a state law limiting marriage to one man and one woman violates the equal protection clause of the Iowa Constitution. Licenses will be issued to homosexual couples April 27.
It is not hyperbole to say that this ruling has the potential to be the worst disaster to strike the state of Iowa.
…
Flood waters erode the soil. "Gay marriage" erodes the soul. A flood impacts for a decade. "Same-sex marriage" destroys generations. A flood draws a community together. "Homosexual marriage" tears the family apart. Communities recover from floods. The promotion of un-natural unions has an eternal consequence.
…
Legalized "homosexual marriage" is not the only way that marriage is attacked and dishonored.
Marriage is attacked when church members go undisciplined for fornication and adultery. Marriage is dishonored through abusive husbands and disrespectful wives, through the use of Internet pornography and the reading of smutty novels.
…
Government is established by God to approve of what is good. [That would be news to the founding fathers, no? —ed] I do hope and pray that our state's constitution is amended to define marriage as the union of one man and one woman. I've encouraged my legislators to pursue it.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
A Gathering Storm Of BS
This is rich. In response to the recent batch of gay marriage victories, some silly anti-gay marriage group (National Organization for Marriage, formed by National Review's lovely Maggie Gallagher) puts out this cheesy-ass video:
As you can imagine, it's full of lies and distortions of the truth. Hell, they couldn't even find real people for the vid, deciding instead to use actors:
HRC responds with its own cheesy video:
As you can imagine, it's full of lies and distortions of the truth. Hell, they couldn't even find real people for the vid, deciding instead to use actors:
HRC responds with its own cheesy video:
Now, it's become clearer and clearer to mainstream America what us gay-lovin' folk have seen for years: GM foes simply don't have a rational, reasonable argument in their arsenal. Their arguments against GM have been aired and distilled down to two basic pieces: religious doctrine and/or personal ick factor (or bigotry, if you prefer)—the rest simply don't stand up under scrutiny.
All they've got left is fear-mongering lies.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Waters Of March
Lisa Hannigan and Damien Rice perform two of my favorite bossa nova songs, "Desafinado" and "Aguas de Marco."
The two of them collaborated on some achingly gorgeous songs (like this and this) from 2001 to 2007, when they stopped working together, their relationship reportedly having "run its creative course."
Too bad…they were good together.
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