THIS Rhett Butler Will Never Die

i gá a thaifeadadh an dáta seo do na glúine ar mhaithe toisc go bhfuil crosbhóthar mór bainte amach. Is é mo cairdeas le óg Miss Scarlett i mbaol de dar críoch. agus díreach mar a thosaigh mé a scríobh seo amach le hintinn go hiomlán chun dul i domhain le léargais agus na mínithe ar cad a tharla dúinn a thabhairt chuig an bpointe seo (a bhí i réidh le dul isteach i doimhneacht an oiread sin go raibh mé ag dul a aistriú an téacs seo go Fraincis ionas go mba aon duine a stumble ar seo bheadh ​​siad ag dul trí roinnt iarracht chun a fháil amach cad a bhí scríofa i - ach amháin ar ndóigh, bhí siad ina labhraítear Fraincis). Ach anois go bhfuil mé ag scríobh nach bhfuil mé gur mhaith leat cuma a insint duit cad a tharla. Ní gá dom a aer mo cheann amach. Ní gá dom gearán a dhéanamh. Ní gá dom a mhíniú mo thaobh den scéal. Cad é is cóir agus beidh mé ag déileáil leis. Beidh mé a rá go bhfuil mé wounded mór ag an méid a tharla. Go mothaíonn gach lá ar an scaradh óna cosúil le bás. Gur thug ...

you know why i like the dark seasons (autumn & winter)? because they give me permission to be a depressive. at least that is what i've exemplified for myself as a cry of victory over the majority of my lifetime.  its more okay to be depressed during these months than it is when the sun is constantly shining. i'm not going to say any of what's on my mind or in my heart properly or succinctly enough in this entry because i'm very out of practice with writing. i'm out of practice with communicating outwardly and publicly. i have been living in secrecy for a very long time now and mete out what i want to be known in teaspoon fulls, but not to anyone in particular. i am becoming obscure and reclusive. it's been roughly a year since i left facebook and my goal of making stronger, real seeming relationships with people not  using that platform of communication has floundered. the majority of the members of the modern world that have been swept up into the easines...

i hope i will never fully understand why this song moves me so much. Pretty bird with feathers falling Pretty as a lady calling For her pink and midnight lover As she stares into the water And a yellow moon is rising And there can`t be no disguising That the pretty bird is dying With a silver arrow lying at its side Rivers of blood, oceans of tears, life without death, and death without reason To the whole United Nations, To your greatest expectations To the moment that you realize As a dark figure slips from out of the shadow Pretty bird closes its eyes, pretty bird dies Another pretty thing dead on the end of the shaft Of the Zen Archer A man in parts forgotten With an outlook that is rotten And an attitude to match it Finds relief inside a hatchet And he halved someone in Boulder Justifiability is in the hands of the beholder And you just don`t know what people will do next Mountains of pain, valleys of love, death without life, and life withou...

she's the love of my life, pure and simple. by that i mean she is the most ultimate match of my soul that iv'e ever come across yet and she fills up my life now . our lives are an enigma that neither of us can decipher the mystery of, and we love it. yet we are not boy and girl friend, we are not lovers. we are soul mates, of a sort. there are so many similarities that we share in our interests and in our life goals, but it goes deeper because we have become joined somehow inside, in a way that makes us aware of and concerned about the condition and needs of the other, more than anything or anyone else. i care more about her well being than my own. anyway, i could go on and on about this, and perhaps will one day to more explicitly pinpoint what this unique elemental structure is because it's so strong and it's making life partners out of us, we both know it. not life partners that will be completed as physical lovers are, but life partners because of all the other wa...

so the old "lotto fever" has crept back into my noggin. i've had the feeling since i first became responsible for the lives of others back when i was a young man, got married and started a family. there was an imbalance of some sort in my karmic/financial balance in this lifetime that's made me be unable to ever have enough finances to take care of all of the things i need to take care of. i've never been "dirt poor", but i've never been out of debt either. and were an emergency to arise, a true, life altering emergency of any magnitude; well there's never been any source of income to fall back upon to take care of such situations. blah blah blah... blah blah blah, stfu, okay?? well, to balance out all of that poverty mentality and poverty reality, i started to have imaginations (or inspirations) about being blessed by god with a gift of magnanimous wealth. thing is, it never happened. ever. not then when i was young. not in my 30s or 40s eithe...

when you plant seeds of desire deeply enough into your heart and water them with strong enough wishes for them to grow, and come true... as corny as this sounds, be prepared for eventual fulfillment of those wishes. i think that a combination of clarity of desire, intensity of focus when installing the desired vision, and continual care... not just casting a wish to the wind once and saying, "if it comes true, great. if it does not, no loss to me." how badly one needs their wish to come true will be illustrated by their determination to burn the image into reality through obsessive dedication. want that thing like you've wanted nothing else before. about 6 years ago a heartfelt need arose in my life to just have a simple friend to spend time with. i wished hard for this need to come true. read back through the archives of this blog and you'll see pages and pages of these yearnings. and i got little bits of answers to this need/desire/wish for short bits of time, her...

we receive so many great gifts over the course of our lifetimes so it's hard to say that one is ultimately the greatest; especially when you have lived a long life where many, many great things have been received (or achieved). the point is to be conscious of what is great now, today, and to be appreciative of it, to revel in it, to make it stay important and great so that it won't die and go away; not today or ever. this is what my current best-friendship is like. it truly is the greatest gift in my life because it is what is making me feel joyous about living right now and gives me light in my eyes about wanting to go on living. not gonna go overboard on being gushy about this because i want to jump down a couple of levels into another greatest gift of my life that has arisen out of this great gift. for the sake of privacy of my friend and i, i'm not going to go into elaborate detail (if i were writing this in my private blog i could/would) about how i/we got to this ...

and has given me a challenge to blog along with her on a daily basis. i've been such a sloppy and lazy blogger for months now, so i've told her that i'd accept her challenge. well, it's not THAT sort of dare. we're not going to fight if i said no, or if i miss a day writing, but we are good encouragers for each other in many other aspects of our lives, this is a good one to bring into the mix. i need to be writing now anyway to get my fire started up for Nanowrimo. need to get a day countdown app running on my phone as a reminder of how little time there is left to prepare. oh there is so much that i could say about this matter right now, but even as i sit here writing these few words for you, blind reader (yes, i call you blind because i know that no one reads this blog anymore - which suits me fine...) i can already feel the mountains of misery amassing before me of the difficulties i will have to climb to discipline myself to get ready for this task. writing is...

i was able to obtain Joanna's mother's mailing address and sent the letter there. about 10 or so days later i was driving around town listening to her sing in my car and i got this wave of intuition washing over my face and heart and i KNEW she had read the letter and she was smiling appreciation back at me. true story <3

first an update. the kick from being in the same room with Joanna and Philip got to me within a few days of the show. i WAS glad that i went. their beingnesses sank into me and i started to feel their individual life forces flow through me. it was important that i was there and here is at least part of the symbolic essence i'm grasping. Joanna was a brand new musical discovery to me, yet her sounds echo the wisdom of an age old crone and she is disguised in the body of a whippoorwill of feminine mystique. and across the stage was an age old man who i've listened to the music of for nigh on three decades, yet he has the spirit of a little boy inside of him, eager to play in the dirt and mud of the fields of ecstatic sexual energetic sounds that carry the soul to higher states of consciousness. both of these people are tapped into wavelengths of knowledge and understanding that surpass normal human understanding and they do not let the slights and misdeeds of human frailty draw t...

i bought a ticket to this concert about two weeks ago on a whim. i had just stumbled upon the music of Joanna Newsom and after watching a few youtubes of her fell head over heels in love with her. when i got to SF last night, due to a swing in moods due to my meds, i was in a depressive slump and was on the verge of not even attending. i actually texted 3 people i know who live in the city offering my ticket to whoever could show up in time at the Warfield to claim it before the show began. one person responded and arrived in time! turns out that seeing her boosted my spirits and she talked me into seeing the show myself, which i went ahead and did. (weird side note: i asked the ticket-takers if it would be okay to switch my ticket with someone; literally, let her walk in and i would walk out the door. they said NO, but in this instance because of the story i told them (i had a bad day, as did my friend - she attended a funeral in the morning), they'd allow it - but NOT to tell...

i did not attend Coach Marshall's memorial service. not in person, at least. i genuinely sense that my presence was preferred to be absent by at least one person there, Son Halliday. why he would have any sort of long running resentment against me for nigh on 40 years is something that exists only in his mind. a little recent back-story that i can share; about 2 or 3 years ago a woman that attended Monte Vista at the time we were all there, a close friend of the Halliday girls, a woman who's name escapes me right now - found and contacted me through Facebook. she struck up a very personal conversation asking about how my life had been and told me very personal facts about her life, including the harsh reality that she had lost the life of a young daughter. after introductory niceties were over she got to the point of why she was really contacting me. Coach Marshall had been put into a nursing home up in Sacramento and was lonely. the kids were all too busy to both, take car...

i wrote something, probably too personal - as usual, for Coach Marshall's online guest book and the moderator, one of the Marshall kids seems to have chosen not to display it. i submitted it on Friday and i thought that maybe it was because of the long weekend. they were just not paying attention to submissions... and that may still be the case. i dunno. thing is, now it's got me in a tailspin about attending the memorial on Friday. if they dissed me over what i wrote, maybe that means they don't want to see me there, and i don't have enough power of personality on my own behalf to go there alone. i don't know anyone that will be there, except maybe Linda Silva, but i haven't heard from her in ages. i guess i could call her. anytime i've called her in the past it usually takes her about 3 weeks to respond. i'll probably still go anyway but just slip in and sit in the back row so i can leave as quickly afterwards as possible. if anyone had cared to contac...

we were just hanging out for the afternoon and i decided to take her by my cemetery in Danville, you know, the one where I hang out all the time alone. i've never taken anyone there, as a friend, to just hang out with. (of course i had my camera with me...) but while we walked around i observed the way she acted and what interested her, and before i knew it she was acting out in manners very similar to ways that the young woman in my novel acts. the photos in this set were unplanned and unprompted. since she is my writing partner, i'm sure she'll want to revisit the cemetery and explore the place more to help motivate me to finish writing my story. that this strong of an experience occurred and i did not rush home and start working on the novel just shows how deeply receded it has fallen into my subconscious, yet again. i believe that my meeting her, and am now focusing on only wanting to photograph her (and not any more new models) is a mechanism for me to get back on tr...

Obituary ANDREW MARSHALL    |    Visit Guest Book "Coach Marshall" Andrew Stephen (Steve) Marshall May 16, 1930 - May 14, 2012 Resident of Danville Beloved Father and Husband, longtime resident of Danville, and retired school  teacher  at Monte Vista High, Steve passed away peacefully at the age of 81, with his family by his side. Steve as a young man, served in the Merchant Marines, and started out "as low as you can" working his way up to a licensed Marine Engineer, from 1946-1951. When he came home from the sea he worked night jobs, so he could go to college to earn multiple degrees, a BA from Pomona College in 1964 and an MA from Claremont Graduate School in 1965. He went on to become a beloved teacher and coach at Monte Vista High School for 35 years. At the young age of 40, Steve became paralyzed from the waist down. When they told him he would never walk again, he simply told them that they were wrong. Through th...

nous avons ce test, nous faisons les uns aux autres en ce moment, une épreuve de force si vous voulez. et je ne sais pas pourquoi nous le faisons ou qui est le gagnant sera. Je lui demande de prendre des photos d'elle-même porter des articles que j'ai acheté pour elle. parfois elle le fait tout de suite, sans plaintes et d'autres fois, elle semble non plus oublier, ou tout simplement refuse plaine, parce qu'elle «peut». et j'ai l'impression d'avoir le droit d'être insistante qu'elle fais ce que je demande, si je continue à demander jusqu'à ce qu'elle se conforme. mais ensuite elle se plaint que je suis "guilting son" et ce n'est pas drôle, mais j'ai toujours la louer pour sa beauté ... c'est un jeu étrange. Je lui dis que je vais renoncer à demander. si elle ne me donne pas une photo après une demande, je ne veux plus poser une deuxième fois et qu'elle suffit de savoir que si je ne demande pas à nouveau, ce n'est...

i’m glad she wrote what she’s thinking in such/much clearer terms on her journal, but this is so crazy that we talk to each other through so many layers of subterfuge; via emails, text msgs, innuendos, and so few direct real time conversations... it’s the modern age where we have the quickest means of communication available to us in the history of the world, but the meanings of our hearts and minds are only becoming more confused because it’s so multi-leveled and tiered. why are we playing these games? here i am hyperbolizing and hypothesizing for the sake of hearing my own voice, but i’m not saying anything. i just want to hear her voice. even if there are gaps of silence while we struggle to find the courage to say what it is we really are feeling. the emotion in our voices when we are weak and struggling to bear the truth is what is real about life. words on a screen are flat and bloodless.

This is a video made from photographs I shot of Cam Damage , back in February. This is almost exactly the vision I had in mind, when I proposed this portion of our shoot to her. To embody the personality of a pagan, roughshod Joan of Arc , a young woman that might have battled with internal demons & angels before she battled with men in the fields and trenches of France. We did the shoot very early in the morning, it was quite chilly, and yes, she is wearing very little clothing. I only posted this video yesterday. Sometimes it takes awhile for an idea to coalesce for me.

Temple Tattoo, Oakland - April 24, 2012 This is Scarlett. We've known each other since last August. She's a young woman that lives nearby and I am extremely fond of her. If you are a long time reader of this blog, you'll recall that I've yearned for companionship with someone like this for quite awhile. There have been a couple of touch and go attempts with other local girls (Monica, Rachel, and Kacey, if you recall the stories) and other online friendships but none of them took root like this one has started to. My friendship with Scarlett is strictly platonic, professional, and ethereal. We have explored through discussions the depths of intimacy we are both safe and comfortable with so that we can keep our friendship intact and strong and have established parameters for behavior when we are out together. There are no imaginations going on of ever escalating our relationship to anything more intimate. Professionally we are very strongly affiliated with intere...

i’m trying to be mean. i’m trying to be obstinate. i’m trying to be opposite things of my nature, for a change, thinking with rotten logic that if maybe i act the right bastard and be a “bad boy”, maybe she’ll come running to me the way i always run to her, because she’s my maiden in distress and my princess...  and my nature is to always want to serve and please her. and i’m further sickened with myself than i was yesterday when it was just realizations about how false and conniving my tactics at achieving her friendship were. when i cast myself off into my dungeon of solitude yesterday, so that i could try this tactic of illogically displaying my worthlessness, but furthermore showing her that she has all she needs in the other people of her life... that i am nothing but a stone around her neck that will drag her to the bottom of the sea. she has a man that gives her emotional comfort and satisfies her sexual needs. she has reacquired the attention of her dream-soul mate. she ...

i made a decision a few days ago to self regulate my medications. my pdoc failed to cooperate with me and allow me to try out using Straterra to see if it would assist me achieve power of concentration to achieve goals. Simple goals of completing academic style tasks, like reading books, paying attention through a film from beginning to end, coming up with ideas for writing projects and being able to sit down and write out an outline without drifting off into daydreams after just 10 minutes and then not being able to remember at all what my original ideas were. Simple kinds of tasks that a normal majority of human beings on this planet are able to do. Not all humans are perfect and not all can do these things at all times, but I used to be able to do them much more aptly than I have been able to over the past 4-6 months. Yes, even just 8 months ago I was in much better mental dexterous condition than I am now. Well, better than I was up until a couple of days ago. Before I wre...

well, i did it! i let go of my angst and what i yearned for came to me. (it wasn't as easy as that sounds, but now that i am there, here , it feels like all the years of moaning and groaning i went through were birth pangs or death growls in comparison to the cloud of bliss i have ascended to am floating on now). "what the hell is he talking about?", are you screaming? I FOUND MY PERFECT FRIEND. and i've reopened my blog to the public. all in the same 24 hour period. two major manifestations in one day. i'm overjoyed by the one, but i'm a little out of practice about the other and i'm stumbling to find my old blogger voice. i've been blogging in private since i left here back in January and there i don't give a dang about syntax or spelling or telling a good story... so i have to get my mojo back a bit here... bear with me. the story of my new friendship is worth telling, and worth listening to. and it's going to take me time to bring it ...