a warrant for sister

i get home from work at 730pm to find a message from mom on my voicemail. she is crying. she says to call her. she ends the message saying, "i love you." i know what the phone call is about. it has to be about my sister. i call mom. as i dial the number i'm preparing myself for the news of my sister's death...suicide...something. mom admits she is drunk. her voice is shaky. to myself i say, "here we go again." i eventually find out that my sister has stolen jewelry from the roommate that kicked her out last week. she pawns the jewelry to a pawn shop. a warrant has been issued for my sister's arrest. my mom begins to break down, bawl, she says she doesn't know what to do...dad doesn't even know about all of this. i say that i'm not going to go through this shit again...mom asks what do i do? i tell her the truth. it doens't matter what you do...it doesn't matter what you say...nothing can help a junkie but the fix for their disease. i try to tell her that her actions are futile when dealing with my sister...once again i say, "it doesn't matter what you do!" mom hangs up. mom was drunk so i let it slide. i know how this will end. is it how i want it to end? of course not. but what some people, including mom, cannot understand is that the lives of other human beings are not tangible...our actions, while they might affect someone in the short term, ultimately have no affect on others. we can't even determine what happens in our own lives. monkeys will do what they do. humans will do what they do. a junkie is a robot that no one else can program. you will put yourself through hell trying to flash a signal, a sign, anything to get their attention but nothing will work. nothing. so why punish yourself while attempting to make contact? LET GO....RELEASE....UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE AT THE MERCY OF THE COSMOS....THE CAUSE...AND THE EFFECT.........THIS IS LIFE.

mc

Katrina's Force Could Be Felt Acro$$ the Nation

Hurricane Katrina is set to smash into Louisiana in about 12 hours but her effects are already being felt at the New York Mercantile Exchange. Trading resumed Sunday night as crude oil futures spiked $4.50 per barrel.
The housing bubble is about to burst...gasoline is nearly $3 a gallon...China and Russia are having joint military exercises...our politicians are silent (and doing nothing) on the Mexican border issue......what interesting times we live in, my friends...interesting times indeed.

mc
 

ANOTHER COSTANZA-ISM - "I'm a great quitter. It's one of the few things I do well. I come from a long line of quitters. My father was a quitter, my grandfather was a quitter... I was raised to give up." 

what matters most is how well you walk through the fire

something has been on my mind lately. it starts with a family reunion that i did not attend on the weekend of july 4th, 2005. sometime in early may my mom called me with some peculiar news. my grandad and grandmom were going to remarry. i've never been close to my grandparents but this news was a little odd considering they had been divorced for many, many years. my mom, as well as myself, thought this was laughable, strange, bizarre. there is so much back-story to my mom and her parents that reciting it all would be quite a chore...and something that i don't feel like going into but i will relate this. my mom was raised in a fire-and-brimstone pentecostal household. mom wasn't allowed to wear make-up, listen to popular music, watch tv...she wore long skirts that had to cover everything, including the ankles...she, and her brothers and sister, went to bed everynight in fear of the rapture...they might awake to find mom and dad gone...gone to heaven and the sinners left on earth to suffer (or something like this)...she vowed to raise her children with something she did not have...the freedom to, or not, worship a god, go to church, etc. the affect all of this had on her is nothing short of child-abuse, in my opinion.....the fear.....the fear....the fire and brimstone.....to raise children in this atmosphere in hard to comprehend. anyway, the remarriage of her mom and dad seemed to be some last ditch effort to "make right with god"....cross your fingers...knock on wood...hope the pearly gates will open. the remarriage also seemed to frame the forthcoming family reunion. frame the gathering with more denial. a denial of the past, a denial of the present, a hope for the afterlife, whatever. most of her siblings (only 2 of the 6 are active in "the church," one is an atheist) thought the remarriage was a joke as well. a month after hearing the remarriage news, and a month before the reunion in reno, my mom calls me again to inform me that we would not be attending the gathering. this was a difficult phone call....she told me that "something happened" when she was a child and after all of these years she was going to take a stand, of sorts. she told me she wanted to tell me what happened...she wanted to tell me in person, not over the phone.......i've visited her a couple times since then but the topic never comes up and i dont want to bring it up....she was, i dont know if she still is, seeing a psychiatrist about the incident(s)....i remember her saying she had "buried the incident" so deep that she had nearly forgotten anything happened.....the D word again - denial. i try not to dwell on whatever happened to mom decades ago....i'm not sure if i want to know...there are so many things that i don't know.........you know, i grew up in an upper class neighborhood in the suburbs and i really thought everything was perfect....i remember (at least i think i do) mom and dad saying they would never divorce (WRONG)....i remember dad accidentally running over the family cat....i remember glancing out of the back window and seeing the neighbor shoot the cat to "put it out of it's misery"...all i remember is seeing a blurry figure raising a rifle...once my mind comprehended what was about to happen i buried my head and heard a POP.....i remember sitting in the moving truck on our final day in that neighborhood (the divorce was finalized) and hearing a horrible cry from inside the empty house...my mom crying, wondering if this, the divorce, the moving, the proof of existence, was indeed the right thing to do...the denial coming home to roost.....i remember moving into a new house, a much smaller house, and mom remarrying too soon....a stranger in the house telling me what to do, expecting respect (everything is cool now, i would like to add).....and i remember, he still does from time to time, dad, his voice cracking from emotion, telling me he never wanted the divorce....tears blur my eyes typing this because in my mind i hear him and his voice, breaking, cracking, he did all he could, he did his best, but sometimes a man's best isnt enough........i remember my mom calling me telling me my sister was in jail...prescription drugs, minus the prescription, passed out in her car at some vacant gas station....i remember my mom calling me the next day, after she bailed her out, "your sister is missing...no one knows where she is, god, is this happening????" months later mom calls again....sister is in jail again........sister is a junkie....."chris (that's me, by the way), i hid a camera and caught your sister stealing pills from my purse...." she's stealing prescription pads from doctors writing bogus prescriptions...[sister is doing much, much better now] i remember being the anchor for my mom during this sister-junkie period....everytime the phone would ring my heart would begin beating a terrible race-car beat, 500 mph, the world would stop, the sound of the television would turn into the color white-invisible-silence...."HELLO?" "oh, i'm sorry, i have the wrong number." "TH-THAT'S O-OKAY." c l i c k.............................. what the fuck happened? me, 9, 10 years old thinking that i was blessed with this perfect life.....nice house, suburbs, teacher's pet, A-B honor roll every grading period, "perfect" family.....chip, chip, chip away at the facade and years later i'm a 27 year-old man feeling like some estranged survivor.....the wreckage no longer smolders. it's still there. like a crucifix on a highway shoulder. it's a reminder.

...and i wouldnt change a thing

mc

YOU BETTER RECOGNIZE - this is Richard Pryor. if you've never seen/heard this legendary comedic genius do yourself a favor and check out his official site. before you exit the planet earth make sure you see "Richard Pryor: Live and Smokin'."

"my whole life is a lie," george costanza

.....FUNNY BUT TRUE

an invitation

on thursday i received an invite from this girl i "know" for a party saturday nite. it's 1146pm and i'm back home so needless to say the whole thing was disappointing....actually depressing. when she asked me to come to the party i was dumbfounded. i thought she might have some interest in me, but of course no. the invitation girl was already three sheets to the wind when i showed up a 9 o'clock. i then knew that i had fooled myself once again. most of the people there were burnouts....the others were future burnouts. a 14 year old girl (yes, she was actually 14) and her friend were waiting for this 30 year-old to go on an alcohol run....this huge pig-of-a-man (with shirt unbuttoned and 200 hairy pounds exposed to the elements) was waiting for some pills......an hour earlier a man (whom i would not want to meet in a darkened alley) showed up with some pharmaceuticals for eager, shaky hands (their eyes were XXs like unconscious cartoon characters)......i tried to be friendly, talkative and i think i succeeded in this, but after two and a half hours of the act i became sad and looked for an out. i left without saying goodbye to anyone (a habit of mine, i hate the process of saying them). the drive home was this:

a man shaking his head.....he doesnt understand why these kinds of things happen to him...cursing the cosmos for setting the mouse-trap once again...cursing himself for thinking a girl would have a valid interest in him.

i dont know....no actually i do know, sort of......how i have become this broken, despondent man. maybe this is how it is supposed to be.....this IS how it is supposed to be, otherwise it would be different. the one thing i want so much is that other body, that other presence, that touch of the fingertips on my arm. i honestly dont think that presence will pair with mine. ive told my mom, sister, friends this and they all respond with the obligatory "oh stop it, you're a nice guy and you will eventually find her blah blah blah." this came up in a recent conversation with my mom and she asked me if i was happy being single and i gave an honest response of yes, i am happy. if my life was a movie im sure the audience would feel sorry for me. the bus driver and his nights spent alone in his apartment with the internet, video games, television, music, books. but this is me. i am satisfied as much as one can be satisfied. this satisfaction comes with accepting certain things. ive found a common theme through my blog entries. it revolves around KNOWING WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT YOU ARE. we are deluged with images of surplus perfection....becoming more by refuting the pieces of our identities that dont match a hollywood sitcom glossy magazine cover reality. i NEVER had the desire to go to college even though all sorts of people were pressuring me from elementary school through high school. occasionally i will bump into friends from high school and they ask, "so what are you doing these days?" "i work for bloomington transit driving a bus." "oh (an irritating pause and then) how is that working out for you?" and so on and so on.......shouldnt the real question be, ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOUR LIFE? yes, i am happy with my life. are there certain things i wish i could change? of course, who doesnt?

okay.....while this entry began on a sour note i am now feeling okay about things...its so easy for me, and i think everyone, to forget about the core pieces of our identities......the very act of BEING is remarkable.....its so remarkable that most of us forget that the face that reflects in the mirror is our own.....and we are real.

mc

Ian Curtis (1956-1980) - the voice of Joy Division 

"Insight" by Joy Division

"guess your dreams always end - they dont rise up just descend - but i dont care anymore - ive lost the will to want more - im not afraid not at all - i watch them all as they fall - but i remember when we were young - those with habits of waste - their sense of style and good taste - of making sure you were right - dont you know you were right? - im not afraid anymore - i keep my eyes on the door - but i remember..........
tears of sadness for you - more upheaval for you - reflects a moment in time - a special moment in time - yeah we wasted our time - we didnt really have time - but we remember when we were young - and all god's angels beware - and all you judges beware - sons of chance, take good care - for all the people not there - im not afraid anymore - im not afraid anymore - oh, im not afraid anymore"

JOY DIVISION "insight"

a mistake?

ive decided to share my blog (the address, anyway) with some friends. a little hesitant to do this because the words and thoughts in my blog are very personal but i dont care. we are who we are. most of us hide parts of our personalities in the dark, shaded areas of our subconscious so why not expose everything. nothing is sacred and i suppose nothing should be.

mc

a voice and the process of things

sunday morning and i just woke up...i dont like sundays, never have. anyway, things have been getting out of control this weekend. behavior bordering dangerous but i dont seem to care. the "not caring" part is a double edged sword because on one hand i feel very free. i dont care about the opinions of others and i can "be myself" (whatever that means). but not caring can also be dangerous, reckless. a rash, heedless man can cause much damage to others....and himself. i am still mindful of the wall that separates most of us from self-preservation and collapse but i wonder about my future. what kind of man will i be 5, 10 years from now? can anything be done about the natural process of things? what kind of control do we have over our future? i laugh at those who protest our involvement in iraq....do they think anyone is truly listening to them? i believe that their signs, their chants, their protests are advertisements. advertisements for themselves. they are saying, "look at me. i exist. this is my voice." ultimately, it does not matter what any of us are saying. we simply want to hear our voices echoing through some part of the cosmos. bathroom graffiti - LM WAS HERE.........lovers etch their presence on a tree in lover's lane - FW + MB 4-EVER. these very blogs represent sand on a beach somewhere in the world. but the sand is alive....and the sand is shouting. this blog is a grain of sand. your blog is a grain of sand. step back and listen to the chaos of a million voices shouting, screaming. it's all nonsense in the end. it is the chatter of a stadium filled with thousands. it is the cracking of leaves under your feet in october. we are a collection of noise.

mc