All My Happiest Sorrows...

Once in a while, I don't sleep. I lie there thinking thoughts that are better left un-thought. Tonight I decided I was going to think of the cruelest thing that exists on the earth. War, Poverty, Apathy, Famine. Pol Pot, Pinochet, Milošević, Nazis. Greed, Hatred, Torture, Disease. I thought of it all. Then in my addlepated mind I decided that the cruelest thing on earth today is Love.

All the other things I mentioned are done out of self-serving motives, but love: love is cruelest of all. Love destroys us piece by piece and seems so gleefully to enjoy the journey. Imagine a mother in a country dying of famine...the mother loves her child but has to watch that child die simply because there is nothing she can do. It is not the lack of food that does her in, it is her Love that destroys her.

Hatred kills the physical body, but love kills bits of us and we are expected to keep on living with scar on top of scar on top of scar and never find reprieve in the quietness of death that simple hatred can bring. Think of disease as it ravages a loved one's body. The disease is not malicious, its motive is quite simple. Then think of the horrors in life that are done in the name of love. What are the motives then?

Death will wrench a loved one out of our sight but it is our love for that person that continues to torture us in their absence. Our love for them causes us to shed tears. It is not the death we mourn, but the Love.

Someone offers us Love and we won't accept it. Because we know that love equals pain. Here are some questions for you: Why do we spend so much time trying to get the people we love to hate us as much as we hate ourselves? Why can't we accept that someone loving us RIGHT NOW gives us a clean slate? Who doesn't want a new starting place? But instead of accepting it and embracing it we feel we must "confess" to the one who loves us all of our past wrongs so that they too will look at us with the loathing we feel for ourselves. Even if we find someone truly magnanimous, will we accept it? No. We hate ourselves too much to accept that anyone could possibly love us and we sabotage ourselves.

Love binds us to places we don't want to be. Love sneaks up when we don't want it. It tears us down when we thought we couldn't get any lower. We cry over Love and think we're done only to discover that the thing we've cried over can hurt us in new and exciting ways over and over and over again--always thinking of new tactics; disguising itself so we let it in again only to have it rip us to shreds devouring the same scars it caused the first time. We think we've no more tears left to shed, but Love will prove us wrong and the floodgates will open and our faces will soak in the only true product of Love.

I would really like to sleep right now. I would really like to escape into the oblivion of unconsciousness. But my heart is broken and Love is cruelly keeping me awake because Love loves nothing more than watching us bathe in sorrows it brings.

Zombie Birthday

Who knew my birthday could last a week? Well, I'd always hoped--but this year it has nearly reached that mark! My birthday is the 9th and this year, it started on the 7th. Game night at my apartment, then Saturday birthday cards and wishes, Sunday my official birthday Dan took me out to dinner (rest of the story a bit further down) and all kinds of greetings, Monday and Tuesday more birthday wishes, Wednesday lunch with Colt Landon (who gave me a package of Chips Ahoy because he knows I love chocolate chip cookies) using my birthday coupon for Qdoba, and dinner with Dan and John. If something birthdayish shows up tomorrow then it will be a week of birthday!

About two weeks before my birthday arrived I started loosing the joy I usually have. I don't know why. I think mostly it was the feeling of impending doom. Either that or "Open Wide" Wednesday the 5th where I had a Doctor's Appointment and a Dentist appointment in the same day. Not pleasant. Anyway, come the day of my birthday the joy returned.

Dan took me to Smoky Mountain Pizza and gave me three presents! I was truly spoiled. He gave me a pair of wool socks which I need to wear inside my winter boots, a Serenity graphic novel--AWESOME, and a "Whack a Zombie" that you can see in the photo. He also had set up cake at Kylie's house. You know, for a guy who hates celebrating birthdays, he did a GREAT job for me because he knows how much I love my birthday. (Oh, we must not forget that at Dan's radio show he played The Smiths "Unhappy Birthday" for me over the airwaves! "I've come to wish you an unhappy birthday, 'cuz you're evil and you lied and if you should die I might feel slightly sad, but I won't cry.")

My family called and sang to me, which cracked me up. Mom sent me a t-shirt that reads: It's funny how you think I'm listening! Mom knows me so well. I've had a wonderful week.

Thank you Dan, Mom, Family, John, Colt, all those who wished me a happy birthday, and to Dan (again) for stepping out of your comfort zone to make my day (week!!) a memorable one.

My newest zine

Hello Everyone! Here is the cover of my newest zine. It's a guide for urban gardeners on which herbs will grow well in pots. It has a couple of recipes, but mostly it's about growing from a seed and what to do with it when it's ready to harvest. If you're interested send a trade, Mix CD, or a $1.00 to me at:

Sixth Minky
PO BOX 8891
Moscow, ID 83843

Or, if you're a member of the Carrot Row Distro, you can order it from Dan.

Have a GREAT day and have fun growing!!

It's Not A Tumor!!

There is no way to explain how my brain screams. I'd like to explain what my brain does, but as I am the only one inside my head and I don't know what a real brain does. I only know my brain. Lately my brain has been screaming. I can't make it stop. I can't turn it off. The only way to get it to be quiet is to sleep.

I want to cry out for help, but I don't know who to turn to. People get tired of helping someone with a mental problem. They'd rather I just "get better." But, I can't. Think of it as a brain tumor. A problem in my brain that I can't fix. People don't expect someone to fix a tumor, but they do expect a depressed person to "fix" themselves. People want me to be "fixed." But I can do nothing about my situation any more than someone with a tumor can.

Please, I beg of all of you, try to understand. I don't do any of this to try to get sympathy. I don't do this to get attention. If I could change it, if I could have a NORMAL brain I would do it in a moment. If I could get my brain to stop screaming...if I could just be normal I would. I can't change it though. What I need is someone to understand that I have a disease. I can not fix myself. I don't want sympathy. I do need help.

VOTE!

My Boss sent me this link:

http://abcnews.go.com/politics/MatchoMatic/fullpage?id=5542139

It's AWESOME! It asks you to choose which statement you most agree with and then it shows you whose political standings you agree with between Obama and McCain. I took the test and of course my ideas totally lined up with my choice for president. But it was interesting to take nonetheless. Everyone...take a minute to check this out! It's worth the time.

What Ever You Do, Don't Tell Freud

As many of you know, I have the craziest dreams. This one was ice cream induced. I'm sure of it. I've been me for a while now and I now that THE WORST thing for me to eat before I go to bed is ice cream. But it was Jamilee's birthday. What could I do. Anyway...

In my dream I was incredibly talented. First of all, I was an assassin. A very good one. A very highly paid one. But I dressed like a hippie. Long skirts. Ratty hair. All that. It was glorious.

A bit later in my dream I also learned that I was a prostitute. A very good one. A very highly paid one. Still dressed like a hippie.

There was a family in distress. They looked like they needed help, so I jumped in. They had a landlord who was threatening to kick them out if they didn't pay him more money than was necessary. I decided to dispatch him for them. However...

Before I left one of the teen aged girls asked me how she could get into the business.

"Assassin?" I asked.

But she wanted in the other business. I told her; safety first. I directed her to the home of a wizard who could help her as he had helped me. My secret talent to protect myself...the wizard gave me power to change myself into a Pit bull. Any customers get rough, I turn into a Pit bull and tear out their throats.

Ice cream induced? Certainly.

Revealing of inner parts of me? Most probably.

Do I want to know what it reveals? No...my subconscious is hiding it for a reason.

Whatever you do, don't tell Freud.

My Own Bed

This is why I must sleep in my own bed. This is actually what it looked like when I got up this morning. Pillows sliding down between the bed and the wall. Eddie-Phil perched atop a pillow. The blanket that was ON TOP is now a blue and purple blob in the upper corner. The blanket (sheet in there somewhere) that was over me now in a bundle on the side.

Eddie-Phil is lucky to have survived.