All posts by scottobear

Blame Missile

Tonight I felt a screaming pang of guilt because I stood up for myself and did as I felt I needed to do. It was as though acting within reason is no longer tolerable, as though some kind of hidden schedule needs to be followed without any chance for preparation. It was also as though because I had previously made grievous errors in judgment, now in order to resolve those errors I was being required to make further errors, and I saw myself spinning endlessly if I followed that path, and so I put an end to it (again), and once again, a pang of guilt came screaming across me; as though someone else’s feelings could somehow be a missile of blame, as though I couldn’t or shouldn’t allow myself to do anything that left me feeling at the very least, comfortable. All I wanted to do was get some rest, but I ended up too angry to move, too furious to sleep; I am not yet in control of my programs, my emotions still yet rule me even if they never escape the four walls of my skin. My defenses are low, I feel physically exhausted and emotionally spent, and of course, the onslaught of reality never stops, really. I gotta figure this out, come to peace with myself, I gotta stop fighting fire with fire and blame with blame, and allow myself to take responsibility for feeling good; as the lyric goes, “I’m okay when everything is not okay.”

Tonight I came this close to severance. Some day I’ll have courage enough to try to make sense when I talk about my feelings. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a couple of minutes.


why does she clean herself
so frequently so thoroughly
working so intently, preening so carefully?
there’s little or no dirt there
her ministrations have little impact

why does he scratch himself
so roughly so fiercely
biting so hard, straining so long?
I looked and there wasn’t anything there
he was probably doing more harm than good

why do I reveal myself
so freely, so fully?
trusting so deeply, opening so wide?
was I vain enough to think it made a difference?
was I proud enough to think there was value in it?

Do I do this
because I am a creature of instinct,
or to prove that I am not?

And will I ever be clean?

the more things change…

Well, it looks like April will be moving out in about a week instead of yesterday, like I had hope/planned. Apparently, the folks at her old apartment don’t want her back, and I can’t kick her to the curb, as it were. So, She’s going to look for rooms for rent around where she’ll be going to school in october. A good idea, I think, better’n living at CSC, anyhow, and I would rather her live someplace comfortable then out and about. So, We’ll see. I’m hoping this won’t be too difficult, and that she doesn’t take advantage, and make a week turn into a month. (She gets a biggie paycheck this friday, so I think she’ll move easiyl next weekend.) I’m not going to take any $$$ from her, even if she does offer it, I’ll tell her to put it towards school or her apt.

In other news, we were doin glaundry together this morning, and we saw an ad for free black kittens. I think newton could use a little pal, and I’d enjoy another little fuzz-bucket kicking around the apartment. Any ideas on names? My trend has been to name for scientists & cool historical figures. Newton…. maybe another physics guy to go with? Schrodinger? Escher? I dunno.

quotes heard this week for folks.

Sealed with a curse as sharp as a knife… Doomed is your soul and damned is your life!
(Computer lab. Pal Bheesham getting irritated at the programming manager)

Sometimes I do what I want to do, The rest of the time, I do what I have to.
Quantis (From Gladiator)

Richard Nixon, rejected by the Coca-Cola company, went to work for Pepsi — on whose business he was in Dallas on November 22, 1963. JFK drank Coke. Cola Wars as Secret Struggles? Why did Lee Harvey Oswald drink a Dr. Pepper before making his getaway? (Ken Hite, babbling about conspiracy again… freaky thing is that it’s true!)

last one – on girl trouble.

Be flexible.
A kite flies on a string, not a stick.
-Tino’s mom.

Wow, I could see your lips moving, but it was like “blah-blah-blah-blah”, or something.


it wears cut-off jeans,
a twice-torn shirt,
and hiking boots

it’s callused like a woodcutter
and it’s as hard as the night is long

it’s a sawed-off shotgun world, friend
and you’re looking down the barrel

it doesn’t have any mercy,
it just keeps on turning,
and swooping around the sun,
and never does it stop
or pull a punch

when you fight your way up the stairs
every morning
and get on the treadmill
you start to wonder
if there’s anything to it
besides the fiction and the friction

sometimes you are lucky enough
to go too fast
or catch a new song
or do anything that
just for a moment
lets you forget the turning

when you are so blessed
thank the harmony
and the speed
and all the bottles of beer

there wasn’t much poetry in them
but at least they kept the shotgun
out of your face for a time


A candle
has burned black
down to a nub
and vomited wax
all over my desk.

I look at the placental remains
and I wonder

If I had enough warmth
in my breath
If I had enough skill
in my hands
If I had a new wick
in my pocket

Could I pry up the wax
and mold and roll
and repair the path of flame?

Funny, it’s always the easier
the unopposed choice
to buy a new candle
to burn down again.


Well, April and I have broken up, amicably. I was feeling used and she says she was feeling like she was obliged to me. I don’t think we’ll continue to room together, as I don’t feel I could handle it, and I think she only wants to room with me for the cable, smaller rent bill, internet and access to Newton. Heck with that. Even though I would enjoy having the cost break in rent and food, I don’t think I would deal well with a friend I used to have sex with living under my roof and sharing my bed (just to sleep in). Man. Sakes.