THIS Rhett Butler Will Never Die

 My marriage ended irreparably in 1989. Part of the reason I think that I got married (to this woman) at all, was for the sake of bearing the brilliant son that we parented. And even though he was raised in a broken home, he turned out to be a spectacular and magnificent man. There were so many reasons why our marriage broke, faulty communication being primary and finances being the other. That intro is the launching off point for what I'll talk about next.  In 1990 I had pretty much what was considered a "rebound fling"... Fresh on the streets and looking for action I met a woman at a holotropic breathwork group in Berkeley. She invited me home where I met her roommate, both of which were in massage school (the aforementioned National Holistic Institute) in Emeryville. They convinced me to join the school, invited me to live in their house, I ended up sleeping with this lady and felt like the proper thing to do was suggest we get married. But we didn't... I kinda car...

 Sitting in a library, something I don't do often enough, partly because the closest library to where I live is small, claustrophobic, yet has big windows that sit on a busy noisy street (which also let in TOO much light)... all these aspects make me uncomfortable... but here I am inside a library 10 miles away from home, and it's cavernous in comparison to my city library... i can find corners to hide in where no light of day reminds me of how hot it is outside...  So I came in here just to kill an hour of time... and what do I do but browse the New Book section, not really intending to find anything of much interest... I pick up a novel by Christopher Golden (a prolific YA author in his early days - I first read a bit of Buffy-fiction that he wrote over a decade ago...) with a blurb on the cover by Stephen King, saying "...this story will take you on a trip that will scare the hell out of you... I LOVED IT...", so I picked it up and just 5 pages into it, I'm hoo...

Can’t Stop Running Time marches on I learn to crawl, I learn to walk You couldn’t stop me from running Stop me from running Before I heard my name Before I learned to talk I knew I was running to something Running to something Into the arms of my god Time marches on And I awaken to the world And I’m still running to something Running to something far away Unseen by the others in the herd I’m only running to something Running to something Into the arms of my dream I can’t stop running I can’t stop running I have a vision of myself breaking the finish line string I still can hear it This dream is calling So I’ll keep running Time marches on I start to trip, I start to fall And now I’m running from something Running from something on my tail Can’t turn to look, can’t hear the call I’m only running from something Running from something Running in fear I will fail Meanwhile Time marches on and on And the strength to run may soon be gone Now I watch the young ones coming And it’s on their le...

I don't know why I feel it is important to keep rehashing this one topic; the facts of my being a single man - the reality, the hardship, the contentment... Last night I pondered this matter once again, while I sat in the hot tub at my health club, alone. I decided to scan my memory to determine exactly how many different times I have actually had sexual contact with other people. I came up with three different people; my first girl friend when I was around 19 years old, touching genitals was involved. The woman I was married to. Enough contact was experienced on at least one occasion to cause the birth of a child. She and I never "made out", even once, (by that I mean we never kissed passionately nor was I allowed to touch her breasts or anything else) and I don't recall ever being allowed to see her naked body. After I broke up with her an older woman (no more than 4 or 5 years older than me) took me into her bedroom out of pity after hearing my story of desperation...

i've been working harder the past month than i have in a very long time. i'm not asking for credit or a payoff (liar, yes i am !) - damn! ok, so i wrote a review for a concert i went to last Tuesday night - submitted it in 2 days (not expected to be turned in for 4 days). then i go to another concert Friday night. i photograph 3 bands and write a review. turned it all in in 2 days. i have not received any acknowledgment from the magazine yet. maybe because it is the weekend. what i am suspecting is that maybe i'm blowing their minds a bit in that i am turning my work in so fast. another thing bothering/worrying me is that my partner at the zine, "M", has not returned my calls or emails since I last saw him on Tuesday night after the show that night. I was so tired that I did not offer him a drive home. i mean, i don't think he ever gets rides home but from me, and it's not like he is not used to taking the bus - it wasn't raining. so i am thinking he ...

i don't even know how to start to venture into contemplating these questions right now without admitting to you that i am sitting here crying while listening to music. what is that all about? why do i cry? because love has hurt me. it is pain that is released when i hear beautiful music, not joy. or is it joy? a bittersweet joy? i have so much love inside of me yet i get to share it with no one. i get to dote on no one. i get to kiss no one. i get to hug no one, well, or so few... i want to hold someone, i want to ravish someone, i want someone to look forward to seeing me... actually, these are not all truths. not right now. there is someone new in my life that hugs me. i haven't kissed her though. and she does look forward to seeing me. the thing though is that she cannot take me fully into her life right now. so again, i feel denied the fulfillment of these experiences. it hurts though being here in my room, my bed, still alone. is it the wanting that makes not having hurt? ...

I had one of the most incredible dreams I've ever had this morning. It was with Bob Dylan and the young person that led me to understand his genius. The dream took place in a small town where Dylan was going to perform. He sent me a text message on my cell phone and told me to bring my friend, that he wanted to meet us and that he had something to give us. I found my friend and she was so excited. "What could he possibly have to give to us, he has given us so much already?", she said over and over. We met him in an empty parking lot in the dark of street lights. Now this is almost hilarious but he smiled so big and said "I've wanted to meet you so badly!" and was actually giggling! Then he handed us a golden ticket (I thought it was a credit card) and he said "Use this. It will take you anywhere. Just remember though that I will always be there with you. All you need to do is remember my songs." God. Now I'm crying. Life without Dylan. How have...