some post about sex and relationships

I'm unsure what I want to say, or if it will have a nice flow and structure. More than likely, this will be a stream of consciousness.... just trying to push the gnawing concerns in my mind out into the open.

part of my mind is picking up on interest. maybe it's reading too much into the hugs, the conversations. so, I'm beginning to ask, "how should i proceed?" i recall similar situations in my past, ending poorly, because... my intensity... my mania... maybe my co-dependency tendencies - too much, too fast can be scary

yet, i've been getting plagued by inner dialogues, and left paralyzed, second guessing what's appropriate and if i have unchecked baggage?
what i'd like most is to make the time and space for honest dialogues. yet, i recall my first girlfriend contacting me 15 years later - having a night of dialogue - then being told that she didn't want to see me any more. also, being ghosted in a couple of other relationships (too much, too fast)

i wonder if my current perceptions of being isolated and abandoned stem from sharing too openly. coming off as untrustworthy, because I talk about some taboo topics. I don't get that, though, because I don't think I talk about other people. well, not specifically calling out names? then there's "why am i posting on Facebook - do i not have a close friend that I can confide in?" (note the irony of saying that, in this note)
I tried calling people today, reaching out in this and that way. Pretty much got delayed. No, I did not call everyone. No, I don't know if I'm ready yet to "confront my flirts" or try to force a conversation. They've got their busy lives, I've got busy life - I do not want them to feel pressured or threatened (recall how that blew up in my face, in the past)...

I've been told that I come off as very patient.

Yet, I see hints of my mortality encroaching upon me.

I see myself getting passed over, turned invisible, because I'm not trying to assert myself. I see flippant replies to my cries for help (one messenger exchange stands out in my mind), and I wonder how sincere people really are, in their offers to listen?

There's a whole other boiling kettle in the background around the areas of dating, flirting, and sexual harassment - especially if we look at verbage instead of body language. Also... there's talk in society about sexual harassment in the workplace, but it's also on the streets, and in various social organizations. I think it could best be summed up that people get uncomfortable when somebody sexualizes a situation and the first person did not intend to draw sexual attention. Part of this is why I'm real hesitant to comment on physically stunning profile pictures, here in Facebook. That mind set that people are much more than their physical appearance, so we should stop trying to prop up and focus on those appearances...

Yeah, a whole other boiling kettle... another thread... yet, underneath, a reason why I try not to act on purely physical attractions. But suppressing those feelings can be so hard...

My isolation is my own fault, to some degree. I'm modelling the behaviors that I'm receiving. If I don't call people or talk to people, then why should I expect them to do the same. If my life is built around group activities, like AA meetings and board game meetups, why should I expect to be invited to dinners or live shows - it's not like recruiting people to go to dinner with me, when I go out, which is quite often (alone). Hell, I live in a house with 5-8 guys at any time, but we do not seem to interact, outside of our bi-weekly house meeting. (I've told people how I thought I was getting into another co-op situation, but that's not how it's turned out.)

So, I'm left, lying in bed at night, ruminating over if there's anything out there, and afraid to test the waters because of past relationships gone south. Yet, I've written a bit here. I hope it fished some of the resentments out of my mind. ...and I have an early day today, so I should attempt some sleep....

the words are jumbled in my brain,
crumpled up like old newspapers
in and among the cobwebs
that physically house my mind....?
seeking. ever seeking.
hungry. ever hungry.
a thirst for life, for the other,
for hot blood...!
...and the anger seethes,
the desire pushes judgement into back alleys,
the sorrow crushes tranquility...?
hungry ghosts wander this half-life,
decaying, as the minute and seconds fall away....
what do i want? you?
to travel the world,
to be entertained,
to escape pain?
"...and now for something completely different..."
"for in the very whirlwind...."
- fuck. a forgotten line -
"....you must acquire and beget a temperance,
that may give it smoothness..."
and all the thoughts crowd around my mouth,
begging to be let out,
hoping (beyond hope)
that someone might understand,
a desperation to be loved,
to be remembered,
to be saved from this devouring mortalitiy
to be "heard",
...and yet, also, to be here...

You may think you’re fine, but people around you are losing their minds. Unfortunately, some of them will lash out at others with guns and knives and cars... whatever they can weaponize...

don’t know if there’s a cure-all that can calm everyone back down, as I don’t know if we can share a common vision.

I do suspect a good first step is to stop looking at our things, and start talking WITH each other. Text streams do a poor job of consolation... dollar bills, even less so...

...and yet, we insulate ourselves from foreign views to our own. Remember: “Don’t talk to strangers!”

Observations on Humanity

Earlier today (around 3:30 p.m.), a woman got on the #3 SB bus, at the Sunrise Community Church stop, growling like a tiger. The bus driver asked her to quiet down, at which point she claimed to be possessed by the devil. So, the driver firmly but calmly told her to exit the bus, which she did so with a little grumbling.
I glanced at another passenger, and we exchanged expressions. Some passengers at the front commented how “She forgot it’s no longer Halloween.
However, I have to remember, “I could have easily been that person” and I recall the fall of ‘98 to spring of ‘99...

Defining Success?

So, there’s this picture of success we’re fed:
I graduate high school, go on to college, and earn one or more degrees in field(s) I’m relatively interested in. Upon graduating college, I move on to a career in those field(s) that I can work in until retirement, with a hefty retirement package waiting in my golden years.
Along the way, I met a partner, who is The One for me. We settle down and raise a functional family together, in a loving and supportive community.
We have a nice house, nice cars, nice kids, nice neighbors...
———-
So vanilla it makes me want to puke, and it does not, at all, compare to the lives of struggling people that I see in myself, and around me...
why is it being promoted, then?

Job failure: Randall's

My mind is a mess, and I don’t know if I’d make much sense...
but I would really like to talk with somebody else right now. Almost willing to say anybody else...
My predictor is thinking some of you will say, “Go to a meeting!” Thinking about that, this evening (most likely Refuge Recovery)
There’s a thought, “Go to confession!” Not sure on that one, as I’ve been away from Church so long...
(Maybe I could use a birthday coupon? Is there free time in our schedules - part of my consternation...)
———————-
Either I quit, or I got fired... still, I’m no longer at Randall’s. I’m really beating up on myself for adding to the chain of lost jobs, lost due to my absenteeism...
My depression’s been flaring up - parts situational, seasonal, and clinical. I saw my psychiatrist on Monday to get my meds. I still don’t have a good therapy solution.
The low security resulting from my poor life choices is creating great anxiety in my mind. It would be nice if I could “chin up” and “pull myself up by my bootstraps” to power forward and succeed; I just don’t think I have the stamina and perseverance for that, any more. (The suicidal ideations keep circling around me like buzzards, whispering, “you are a failure and you need to quit being a burden”)
As the setbacks pile up, I feel I’m drowning in a turbulent stormy sea, and I want the current to drag me under, Thinking tranquility lies in the deep abyss. “Become a rebel, an outlaw...” “run away to a monastery” “overdose, again?” “Jump in front of that bus” “stop trying to fit in to corporate America...”
A maelstrom circling around, a hopelessness that cards are getting stacked against me ready to slice me to ribbons as they get dealt out in an oubliette tableau (?)... a hopelessness that I have been pushed into the working poor and there’s nothing I can do to change that for myself or millions of others... a hopelessness.
I sit here, at a buffet, thinking that will keep me fed and nourished for 24 hours - and halfway through the meal, I started writing this, hoping beyond hope that I am not as alone as I think I am.
I lost another job today,
But it wasn’t keeping me afloat, anyway...
Living life - there’s got be a better way;
Yet, beat down again,
My energy’s long faded away.
I still want to talk with somebody else.

"Combo Dinner" (P.o.t.D. 8/15/15, no rev)

Barbacoa, guisada, and avocado -
A trifecta to spawn many tacos -
Is complemented by rice and refried beans
To create a tasty dinner
Settling well within my gut...
"Ah! Arrandas! Awesome as always!"

"Bug-brain" (P.o.t.D. 8/8/13, no rev)

engage archie mode
working title unknown at this beginning

although i play at being a cockroach
i am but a human
it could be possible that
for some incarnation
in the distant past
i was walking on this earth
with six legs
and no brain

who am i to say
that bugs have no brains

for a spider can weave wild webs
with interesting defects
when under the influence of this or that

an ant may be part of a larger colony
whose individual actions seem random
and yet the collective actions of the colony
benefit most of the ants

hyper intelligent cockroaches
take over the world
in the far future
for the earth is so scorched
by us meager men now

so we are but humans
imperfect and flawed
and not always looking out
for the welfare of all
especially when chasing
our wanton wants

could the problem be
that god gave us brains
but he left us to learn foresight

"Listen..." (P.o.t.D. 8/4/15, no rev)

Everyone speaks,
Yet no one listens to them.
Attention trumps talk?

"To Be..." (P.o.t.D. 8/3/15, no rev)

Be open.
Be kind.
Be loving.

Be free...

From suffering,
From "blinds",
From attachments...

Be at One,
With All around.

Be at peace -
With mind sans sound.

Breathe.

Be.

"The Game of Life" (P.o.t.D. 8/1/17, no rev)

Multiball pinballs
Colliding, getting sidetracked
Into the gutters...

"Is not..." (P.o.t.D. 8/1/15, no rev)

This...
Is not.
A poem seen
By all I know,
Gathering comments,
So few and far between -
Which begs the question,
"If it is not,
Then why write,
When naught
Read?"

------------- divider (add poems above) --------------------

"Cooking Chocolate Oatmeal" (P.o.t.D. 7/31/15, rev ???)

Just toss them off my brain,
Like so many fractured fragments from
The simmering coffee pot shattered...

Strange ideas percolate,
But now lay splattered
Across some cheap tile knock-off.

How does one arrange the ideas,
When the yarn is unravelling
And all the tender nerves are frayed
By long days at work, slaving away?

Am I in the quaint kitchen,
Cooking up ideas and schemes,
"Mincing words", if you will?

Stirring the sauce,
Sprinkling spices in,
I try to concoct a good story...

...but it feels like a recipe for disaster,
Like the wrong memories
Are getting jammed together,
Leaving me with a pickle of a poem -
Overcooked by leaning too heavily
On an extended meal metaphor.

"Oh! The Travesty!" (P.o.t.D. 7/30/15, no rev)

With much iced tea imbibed,
And a plate of fried foods devoured,
I leave Buffet Palace,
Not suspecting my walk will sour.

A block away, I fart,
And some liquid makes its way out -
Oh, how ashamed I feel
As I now walk soiled and pout!

It could just be old age,
Even just eating the wrong stuff;
Yet it darkens my day,
And makes my five block trek so rough.

Now, sitting at my home,
After quite the cleansing shower;
I wash more of my clothes,
This won't ruin tonight's game hour!

"Sharing Seems Futile" (P.o.t.D. 7/29/15)

Feeling exhaustion -
Like, "Why even try? This crowd..?
They're wrapped up in self."

"Wore Out" (P.o.t.D. 7/29/17, no rev)

Once again, my shoes
Have been trampled to tatters
By all that walking...

"Six by six" (P.o.t.D. 7/28/15, no rev)

Why am I still awake?
'Cause I procrastinate...
I don't feel inspired,
Or have a writer's fire...
I often think in scenes,
Instead of wordy things...
So, this is what I write,
Before I snuff bed light...
Hope for a vivid dream,
Brought by coffee and cream...
Yet, I feel I'll soon sleep,
No memories, I'll keep.

"Job Worries" (P.o.t.D. 7/27/15, no rev)

Stayed in bed today...
Afraid to face unknown Ways
Of earning good pay?

"Unfriended" (P.o.t.D. 7/26/15, no rev)

She lingers in my thoughts, a resentment
That subtly preys upon my peace of mind.
I am perplexed why she left no mention
When she cut off contact in ways unkind.

"Give Us Room" (P.o.t.D. 7/25/15, rev 8/13/17)

We do not wish to be cast as unique,
Separated by perceived difference.
We do not like being afraid to speak,
Set off by those who think we make no sense.

It's just common ground, with you, that we seek;
'Fore we can shed our fears and our pretence.
'Tis fair treatment of the humble and meek
To be allowed room to "get off our fence"...?

"Do you...?" (P.o.t.D. 7/25, no rev)

Do you still love me,
Flaws and all - imperfect soul?
Speak true now - do you?

Is Silence Not Enough?

There are events and causes and politics and more that I closet-support.

Because I do not want to publicly broadcast my support, out of fear of being considered a member of the cause instead of an ally...

Because I do not want to post support without being able to defend my views to those who see the post - no desire for flame wars...

Because I do not want to get into long arguments, especially online, with people who have almost alien backgrounds, compared to my own.

Because I'm already stretched thin on time, and I do not want to get drawn in to lengthy research and subsequent documentation to solidify my position, when it may just be ignored by the "aliens"...

Because I do not fully trust the validity of the "news" that is already broadcast around the issue.

As I do not wish to get into lengthy debates, or spend much of my time sifting through news in fields outside of my studies; I opt to be a passive, silent information consumer. I now think before I share, most of the time, and I try to read with a critical eye.

I guess that it boils down to thinking I have no influence over things outside of my hula hoop. If I thought I could sway the masses to change their mind, I'd be more prone to get on the soapbox...

Yet, I feel I work better in the shadows, where I can break my silence, one-on-one with those who I trust and who have come to trust me.

Unfortunately, there's a power juggernaut in our society trying to wreak havoc on all the things I hold dear.

"Nothing Gained" (P.o.t.D. 7/24/15, no rev)

"Pick up the pebble, playing 'pon my palm."
Swish! Snatched at too slowly, securing zilch!
Even with nothing, you remain so calm -
A Zen master, not flustered by failed filch.

"Sad Short Stories" (P.o.t.D.7/23/17)

Write a sad story
Using three words! So, I wrote:
"Climate change denied..."

"Finding a Purpose"

Dear Human:

You’ve got it all wrong.
You didn’t come here to master unconditional love.
That is where you came from and where you’ll return.
You came here to learn personal love.
Universal love.
Messy love.
Sweaty love.
Crazy love.
Broken love.
Whole love.
Infused with divinity. Lived through the grace of stumbling.
Demonstrated through the beauty of… messing up. Often.
You didn’t come here to be perfect. You already are.
You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulous.
And then to rise again into remembering.
But unconditional love?
Stop telling that story.
Love, in truth, doesn’t need ANY other adjectives.
It doesn’t require modifiers.
It doesn’t require the condition of perfection.
It only asks that you show up. And do your best.
That you stay present and feel fully.
That you shine and fly and laugh and cry
and hurt and heal and fall and get back up
and play and work and live and die as YOU.
It’s enough. It’s Plenty.

~ Courtney Walsh

"Unfinished House" (P.o.t.D. 7/22/15, no rev)

Paint swathes cross the door
Telling tales about a home
Abandoned, it seems.

"Two Bits" (P.o.t.D. 7/21/15, no rev)

Some two-bit poem hack:
Tries to be writer, he acts,
Tortured by mind wracked.

"Seed Cycle" (P.o.t.D. 7/16/15, rev 7/25/17)

The flowers' petals have fallen away,
Leaving tiny green seed pods in bunches
That will grow into red berries one day
To become many hungry birds' lunches.
What will happen next, is Nature at play -
"New blooms, far away" - those are my hunches.

"Ode to Beginner's Mind" (P.o.t.D. 7/15/15, no rev)

Most days, my mind is like an empty vase,
Free from all sorts of bother and worry.
Without clutter, life is easy to face,
And I don't run amuck in a hurry.

"Grill" (P.o.t.D. 7/12/17, no rev)

Licking the charcoal
Like hungry lions, the flames
Cook our food, in heat...

"Organize!" (P.o.t.D. 7/11/15, no rev)

Organize chaos...
Random thoughts, upon the page,
Gathered as the mind does rage.
Anarchy "rules" within the brain,
Never making it easy to train
Intellect's galumphing, dumb
Zoo of wandering, random
Emotions and thoughts.

Thinking about my Higher Power(s)

I have my personal experience that I can relate to. I do not know what other life-forms experience, although people's attempts to communicate their lives can resonate with my own set of memories.

There are a lot of basic experiences that have been repeated over and over, throughout time, that have generated sets of both good and bad responses. Deciding what's good and bad tends to be built on emotional reactions. (I recall a book in the last 20 years that looked at studies of how lack of emotions impaired judgements)

One of the things I love about Buddhist meditation is that it challenges me to form first-hand insights behind my experiences. Similarly, AA's programs says, "Try these behaviors, see what happens, and use that to form your own experience with a God, as you understand him"

A lot of people wring their hands over what others tell them that God is, or, more often... over people telling them Godly behavior and then practicing the opposite.

I think religion does not create a good model of how the physical world works. However, it does do a good job of looking at social interactions, good and bad, through the ages... however, religion has given rise to philosophy, psychology, even history, and influenced other social sciences - and those fields are now coupling with science to give good insights into social behavior and also abnormalities and how they can "break social rules"

So, I claim to be agnostic. If there is a God, it's much more than my personal experience and understanding. Yet, to thrive in this world, it greatly helps to depend upon experiences beyond my own. I.e., I learn from my elders, sharing in their success and avoiding their mistakes...

"Bloom" (P.o.t.D. 7/8/15, no rev)

After rains, flowers
Bloom in pinks, purples, and orange -
Such lovely walks home!

"To Move Mountains?" (P.o.t.D. 7/8/16, no rev)

What words can I say,
Convince them to walk away
From valleys of death?

(Unfortunately,
I feel my words hold no weight,
and so, my heart breaks...)

"Ennio & Dario" (P.o.t.D. 7/7/15, no rev)

Terror hunts me now,
Hinted by my phone's music -
Do I like these songs?

"Trickle" (P.o.t.D. 7/5/15, no rev)

Does your money flow,
Throughout our society?
...Or congeal, like grease?

"Swimming With Sharks?" (P.o.t.D. 7/4/15, no rev)

Why do they hate so?
To survive vicious circles
Of intolerance...?

"Ten Word Autobiography" (P.o.t.D. 6/29/30, no rev)

Enjoys puzzles, games;
Bit cultured...
Many jobs held;
Suffering poverty.

"Haiku Hack" (P.o.t.D. 6/27/15, no rev)

I wrote a poem, see?!
With syllables all counted,
Yet no point was made.

"How We Roll.." (P.o.t.D. 6/25/15, no rev)

Sticky rice, rolled up tight
Upon a crispy, salty sheet of nori,
Snuggling with cucumbers, carrots,
Halibut perhaps - or other fish:
Ingested with the zesty tang of wasabi!

"Two minutes, Twice" (P.o.t.D. 6/23/15, no rev)

Two minutes: Go!
How fast can I type?
How fast can I think?

Of course, my critics
Will tear this idea apart -
Saying where's the flow of ideas..
Silly rule you're using..
and so on..

I do not know what
Will come from the race,
But an attempt to stream,
To bring the thoughts

Talking about what i want to talk about

...and timer rings.

So.. update my phone app,
For the next quest,
And I start the timer again.

Time is trickling past,
Sometimes roaring like rapids -
Eating away at the thread
Woven for my path
By the Three Fates

Time is one of my
Most valuable assets -
If I give you my time,
My attention,
my devotion..

then - damn. two minutes gone again.

"Cutting Cuts" (P.o.t.D. 6/22/15, no rev)

Cutting up in the kitchen
Cuts short my labored thoughts...

Cutting off his corn -
Cut to the chase -

Cutting hurts...
Cut deep,
Cuts.

"Bottom of the Can" (P.o.t.D. 6/21/15, no rev)

Disappointing grounds
Made coffee look, taste like tea -
Time to buy a can.

"Night Shift" (P.o.t.D. 6/20/15, no rev)

As rain trickled down,
Sleep swallowed the sunlight time -
Night finds me awake.

"Message to 45" (P.o.t.D. 6/17/17)

Sir, an angry mob
Sits on the lawn, demanding
That you stop tweeting...

"Celebrating Rain" (P.o.t.D. 6/16/16, no rev)

Happy about rains,
Plants stretch sweet flowers to me
Along walks to work.

"Haikus cry, 'Help me!'" (P.o.t.D. 6/16/15, no rev)

Feeling frustration,
Order mixes with chaos,
And dime poems are born.

"Roadkill" (P.o.t.D. 6/16/16, no rev)

A twisted skeleton
Beside busy highway -
Umbrella abandoned
When fierce rains made it splay,
Upward, outward, useless?

A corpse lays in the street -
Server's black cash apron,
Tossed away in the heat
Of mad furies from work,
When she was called useless...

So much trash, scattered 'round;
Relics of our culture
That one day will be found
By descendents, for sure,
Who cast us as useless.

"Writer's Lament" (P.o.t.D. 6/14/15, no rev)

The desire is an ashen ember -
Dying bonfire in the summer night -
As painful weariness draws out the tears
Sacrificed upon losing writer's fight.

"Feeling Fetal" (P.o.t.D. 6/13/15, no revs)

Huddled in my bed,
Hiding from some simple jobs –
Hindered by my mood.

"Icarus" (P.o.t.D. 6/13/17)

Sol melts the wax glue;
My fine plumage peels off, fast...
This bird falls, stripped bare.

"Times Unjust" (P.o.t.D. 6/12/16, rev 6/12/17)

Life has lost its luster,
Dulled by bickering fights,
Choosing from a menu
Chock full of bad diets.

Love tries finding its roots,
Cracking my stone-dead heart...
Bile rises instead
Choking on rocks apart...

This is a feeble piece -
Written, mindless, above -
Attempting to capture:
'Despair!' 'Ennui!' '...enough...'

Please, forgive, if you will -
Revile, if you must -
Poems written in anger
In these sad times unjust.

"Four subject words" (P.o.t.D. 6/11/15, rev 6/11/17)

Pick four words from the environment around you,
And write four fairly simple sentences,
Using them as the subject...

First attempt, following?

"So, I'm in the kitchen,
Typing away at my laptop,
Perched upon the dining table;
And I wonder why I signed up
For a grammar group?"

None the less, I'll give it a whirl,
Using books, computers, television, and the couch:

"As the unread books gather dust,
The television blares in the background,
And the couch sags under his sleeping weight.
Meanwhile, the computers sit idle,
Frozen upon webpages visited hours ago."

Revision - turning this into 4 simple sentences:

"All of the books are covered in dust.
A television blasts the room with sounds and scenes.
The couch sags under his sleeping weight.
Meanwhile, the computer's screen locks."

"Kotter's Groan" (P.o.t.D. 6/10/15, no rev)

My brain is pudding,
My muscles twitch and ache so,
Gray hairs - all speak age.

"Freedom of Speech, or Peace of Mind?" (P.o.t.D. 6/8/15, no rev)

Remaining silent,
The anger simmers, unheard -
Leave the post to trolls.

"Noise Disruptions" (P.o.t.D. 6/7/15, no rev)

Came home to silence,
Set up to start my writing –
Now, noisy house mates.

"Oh, Thank Heaven!" (written for contest: "Sandwish") (P.o.t.D. 6/6/15, no rev)

Sandwiches at the 7-Eleven
Live for only two days, or perhaps three,
Before they're written off to some heaven -
At least, that's what the dumpster divers see...

I could say, "Oh, so much more...", but, "Alas!"
By working there, my words face an impasse.

"Navigating Highs and Lows" (contest entry) (P.o.t.D. 6/2/15, no rev)

The summer that I just turned twenty-four,
A bipolar episode crossed my door...

Now that I have somehow turned forty-two,
I have learned tricks to appear sane to you.

Eighteen years of suffering strange mood swings
Has led to much pained wisdom that each brings.

"Beauty at Dusk"‏ (P.o.t.D. 6/1/15, no rev)

Bright spot at sunset -
Venus undressing, perhaps
Through bedroom windows?