Until death

He thought. The slime will never pay for what he had done. He thought, I will never be whole again. I will die this way.

Alone at home, her thoughts sometimes turned. And it was why? Why from a friend?

He sat on the other side of the world. It was not why? It was a deep craving. A craving to hear him beg for the pain to stop. To put down the hammer, covered with the blood and flesh from broken fingers. To stop the shocks of electricity burning his skin and sending numbness through him

Into battle

She used words as weapons and her head was full of blunt instruments.

Aw crap, what's the point...

Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell said “The single most important thing we want to achieve is for President Obama to be a one-term president.” He didn't say improve the healthcare system, create jobs, reduce the deficit, repair our crumbling infrastructure, manage the permanent war (let's be realistic) on terror, increase support for education and research (while not just throwing money at them) or anything remotely statesmanlike. Electing a Congress of nothing but Democrats would be a disaster, but Republicans, and their retarded cousins, the Tea Party, truly trigger my gag reflex. Quit whining, America. Quit complaining in broad meaningless terms. You're starting to sound like those bobbleheads on Fox. Go to your congressperson's website. Find out what they are doing. Tell them what you like and what you don't like. Be specific. It'll take you twenty minutes.

Snippet

"You know what I think?"
"What? You mean that this last half hour has been someone else's opinion?"

Thought for the day

Capitalism does not have a conscience.

Life

Perhaps it is all fiction, but alas, I am a reader.

Recurring

Always, always thrust into the room. Day after day with the lights blazing. Always the scene replaying with photorealistic intensity. And still the bills must be paid. And always the job must be done. Everything else a joke of importance. And never an end in sight.

Curioser and curioser

Why do I receive all of these cryptic comments from China? I do not understand any of them. They should spend their time doing something productive, like watching episodes of "House".

Hey Shorty

Shorts below, often well below the knees, are a sadistic joke that tall men have conspired to perpetrate against short men. I look in the mirror and think "People won't believe that I really have any legs. Just a couple of inches of ankle."

Free time

The job was okay, but he hated the unfocused minutes in the car. His thoughts, left undirected, headed back to November. His heart would beat in uneven rhythms. His breathing became chaotic. Hell came to his doorstep again.

The absence of light

There is so much darkness, he thought. Darkness that extended beyond a normal frame of reference. He had to protect her. The darkness was not for her. The darkness was for him. The darkness was where it would end. The darkness was where the world would be made right. And time did not matter.

Games

So Congress is considering passing some sort of bill that will provide appropriate regulation over the financial industry. The problem will continue to be that the regulators are playing checkers and the financial industry is playing chess.

On the bright side

He looked around at his life and thought, "This is what the surface of Venus must be like. In the daytime."

Tit for Tat

There should be more to a relationship than trying to make sure that the balance of emotional pain is doled out in equal amounts.

Purgatorio

He found himself thinking, I am in the room with them. I am always in the room with them. I can never leave the room.

Dialing down

"Please don't need me too much. Please don't need me too much." The sentence spoken at least a half dozen times. Rapidly. In an anxiety stricken voice. Face buried. Body folded. And he thought, what does it mean? And what could possibly be the yardstick?

Westward ha

I'm flying to Arizona this weekend. Later in the week, I'm flying to Burbank. Then I'm flying back to Arizona. On the weekend, I fly home. I hate to fly. Every noise is a harbinger of disaster. I can vividly imagine the wings shearing off, the cabin coming apart, me being flung about the plane while uselessly buckled into my seat. I hear the screams and I see the ground spinning impossibly fast toward me.
If I was allowed to fly the plane, I know that I would feel much safer. Especially after a pitcher of bloody Marys, extra spicy.

Pyrrhic victory

She had a talent for emotional cruelty. He apparently had a talent for enduring it. Now she was contemplating leaving. The coup de grace.

And through the wire

He couldn't imagine what it must be like to hear that voice. The voice that said those things. The voice that pretends that nothing happened. And to see inside her head the face that was speaking. To see the smirk of complete possession and conquest. And he couldn't imagine what it was like to live in abject silence.

Another goal missed

I regret that at this late stage, I never managed to master the wry grin.

Merry-go-round

She's exploring the relationship in her head. She thought that he was a flirtatious friend on the computer that really liked her. Then she met him. Then he used her. And now her mind struggles with the mental construct of who she believed him to be and what he was that night. And what is he now? She cannot resolve the conflict, but continues to try.
He understands in the abstract sense, but avoids that hallway.

Her preferred scenario

What happened to her?
I don't know, he replied.
Who did this to her?
I don't know, he replied.
When did it happen?
I don't know, he replied.
Where did it happen?
I don't know, he replied.
Why did it happen?
I don't know, he replied.
Who is she talking to about this?
I don't know, he replied.
What did she tell you?
Nothing.

Autism

He feels everything slipping away. The isolation grows and grows. He influences little. More and more strangers reach into their life and affect how their life together will, or will not, continue. There is nothing that he does that does not seem to cause damage. He has become the source of comforting hugs and not much more. Not even a human being, just a large warm pillow.

Another visit to yet another planet

"Why did he punish me? I behaved." I behaved? Does that mean that she was a good girl because she didn't say "no"? Because she didn't protest? Because she did exactly what she was told to do; she performed as she was told? Because she reassured him that size didn't matter? She spoke as if submissively behaving was worthy of something. A reward? He had never even believed that it was a conscious choice. Christ, he thought, where had reality gone? Why couldn't she understand that it had nothing to do with punishing her and everything to do with the fact that he enjoyed humiliating a woman? That he was a sick, sick son of a bitch? And dear god, why had she said that to him?

No respite

Again, the degree of control declines. It is dressed in the finery of "for his own good". He thinks of the picture and knows "Yes, he saw this too. And obviously, he enjoyed it because he returns again and again to the scene of his pleasure. To the spasm of physical delight". But it's for his own good, right? Everyone else knows what he needs, but few care about he wants.

Still not good enough

He was chagrined to offer what he knew to be platitudes and creaking support that could bear little weight. He tried to be a rock, but was little more than sand. And always there was the conflict, the tearing of his mind, the gap between her and him, but not him. Contact was searing. He thought of retribution, of payment to be extracted, of a lifelong price. He thought that she thought of contradictions. He couldn't understand what had been scum-like behavior in another, was now, misunderstanding.

Time passages

What was the meaning of forgetting? No, forgetting is the wrong word. What would it mean when he thought less and less often of the events? Would this diminish their significance? Either way, what would this say about him? Where would the events fit (a truly repellent thought) into his life? And why, why, why did it happen?

Illusion

He thinks that he's doing all right. He thinks that the worst has passed. Then there is the explosion of reality in his head of exactly what happened. And all the "I'm sorry's" in the world can dance on the head of a pin for what they are worth. And he cannot drink fast enough. Unconsciousness cannot come soon enough. And there is no price for the pain.

The chili was in the slow cooker. It was marginally based on a recipe; the taste was palatable. He began to cry. It was daily event. The alcohol was an enabler, but not a requirement.

Just my luck

Life swung an aluminum baseball bat at the back of my head. If there were really a just god, or any god at all, I wouldn't have regained consciousness.

Depravity

She was there at ground zero. Blinded by an enveloping flash of malevolence. Stunned by an obscene shockwave. So she didn't see. She couldn't know. The scope of the blast radius.

Consequences

Life is short. So if you really f**k up, it lasts till you die.

You have to ask

She does not call. She appears. She has come home. She does not immediately hug. She does not immediately kiss. She does not recognize these things as part of the natural order. They are not a part of her needs. They haven't been so for many years. They must be requested if they are to occur.

Why

Just because there are no answers, that does no stop one from screaming out the questions to a silent, indifferent world.

Some peace

He thought why won't they let me just grieve the loss? Why did they expect so much from him?

Telling you was the worst mistake I ever made

"Telling you was the worst mistake I ever made." The words were drenched in resentment and bitterness.
"My life has gotten worse because of you. It's worse than what happened because you won't let me get past it. You stick in my face everyday. Everyday I have to look at the expression on your face as if you're the victim. I dread when you show up to pick me up. I told you that I felt relief when you knew. I don't feel that way anymore. This is not about sharing the burden. This is about you. But not everything is about you. It didn't happen to you."
Was it possible to be tasered by words? The worst mistake? They had crossed over into that alternative world that only they could sometimes inhabit, where the conventions and logic always escaped him.
She later said that it was frustration, not anger. But that was not true. When he became frustated, his voice rose a little. He became animated. There was an expression of incredulousness in the sound. But hers was not frustration. There was acid in her voice. There were three years of resentment festering, burrowed deep inside her. She was disgusted by the way that he was behaving and wanted to escape him.

I'm sorry

I'm sorry.
I didn't know.
I couldn't know.
I couldn't forsee.
My heart shredded.
Everything I knew torn apart as if made of paper.
A life burned beyond recognition.
And I don't have the ability to be what I need to be.
For myself and others.

And he smiles. And he laughs. And walks through a life untouched. He doesn't hold ashes in his hands. He takes the greatest intimacies and thrusts them into his pockets as if he now owns them. He laughs again and walks down the street while pictures of his control dance through his head.

Outrage

To put it softly, he was perplexed. He was the only one consumed. The only one burning with rage. It is as if he were the only one who knew what had happened. And justice was left to him, and him alone. But for now, he decided to watch an episode of Heroes and dream of power that he did not have. And he wondered if it were possible to be intoxicated every waking hour. That would be good. But he also thought that a lifetime was long time to pay for a sin that you didn't commit.

Imaginary Scenario No. 1

He stopped forcing the kiss upon her. He told what he wanted her to do.
She said, "No."
There was a quizzical look upon his face.
"No, I'm not going to do that. I'm married and my husband knows that I'm here."
That was lie, but she was fairly certain that the lie would work.
"I'm not going to do that. You can threaten me, but I'd rather be hit in the face than do that. And if you hit me, I will press charges. You are not my friend. You have lied and deceived me. I need to leave."
There was a look of disgust on his dark face as he said, "Get out."
She didn't care and left.

Another mistake

I have always been concerned that my stupidity knew no bounds. Perhaps it is more likely that my stupidity knows the bounds, but chooses to ignore them.

Facade

She regularly said that she shouldn't have told him. That she wished that she hadn't told him. In moments of clarity, she must have known that that was not possible. The burden for her would have been too great. There would have been too many times that it would have been impossible to explain her reactions or behavior. Perhaps it is more likely that she wished that it were only possible for her not to have told him. For him, it was a question of the nature of their relationship. Silence, then continued silence, would have created a facade. A relationship based upon deception.

Odyssey

His mind's eye. Creating images of the unknown and those things known so well. Combined in a perversion of reality. Were that his mind's eye were Polyphemus. And some mysterious, merciful Ulysses thrust the fire-hardened stick deep into him. And he were blind forever.

Conversation

In that moment how did she speak? How did she converse in what should be a living nightmare? Even one single response. What brain function allows speech but not flight? How did she respond while being pressed into the molten lava of hell? Soft words, but no screams?

Not here

Feeling invisible tonight
Or maybe just transparent
And hoping that no one walks thru me

Light cannot find me
Darkness isn't needed to hide me
And soon I'll cease to be

He got lost in the movies, in the fiction, in the make-believe worlds. It wasn't his best idea, but it kept the thoughts and visions on the fringe. They were poised like hyenas waiting to feast. He wandered temporarily healed.

Violence and facts

She spoke of his violence. Did she believe that he was violent? What was her purpose in bringing it up? Did she really believe that he was capable of hurting her? Was she comparing him to him? She said that she was just stating a fact, as if all facts needed to be stated. As if the pain caused by the voicing of a "fact" was inconsequential.

"You tell me what to do," she said. Another comparison. Another "fact".

Apologia

He knew that he had promised some people that he would stop drinking. He knew that he had to apologize. "Sorry, hell is bigger than me."

January 4

There are times now when I am more alive than I want to be.

Failure

Why didn't he slap god's face? Why didn't he move galaxies? Why didn't he rearrange the stars?
Why wasn't he there to protect her from the evil that men do? Why did he fail her?

Resolutions, i.e., things to resolve

• Hang on to the love of my life
• Find a job that won't slowly or quickly destroy me
• Go camping and forget the rest of the world
• Continue to write pithy, cogent observations that no one reads
• Learn to live with the depressing effects of greatly reduced expectations
• Conjure a cat that appears when I need the companionship
• Watch more movies that I want to, alone, if necessary
• Embrace hedonism, guilt-free
• Provide emotional support to family and make fewer mistakes in doing so
• Drink less, but more effectively
• Get my wedding ring resized or replaced
• Lose weight or become anorexic, whichever works
• Buy a guitar and learn to play the guitar solo from The Dream Syndicate's Merrittville
• Stop expecting the Bears and Bulls to win and just enjoy the game
• Visit my brother Tom, even if I have to use a Segway
• Publicly announce that no one knows what I'm feeling, so everyone should shut the hell up
• Get a new front loading washing machine
• Cry less, but more effectively