| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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some nights i am so sick of the day that i take the ambien at 8pm. i always wait until 8pm, but only because i am afraid of what time i might wake up if i go to sleep any earlier. if it wasn't light yet i'd be at a loss of what to do. i have painted my bedroom. this is the 40' long room in the downstairs of my house. it took me many weeks to paint, though only about 6 days of total effort. i have been avoiding work. i have been avoiding life. but i've finally finished my bedroom. tonight B and i will measure for molding. tomorrow N and i will go to home depot and buy molding and drywall. we will then paint the molding, hang the drywall, mud the drywall, hang the molding. i hope all that gets done tomorrow. hanging drywall and molding is not a one person job, and i am a one person most of the time. i found a place to live in santa cruz. it is a block from the ocean. it is a tiny one bedroom apartment. $900. i applied for it. i am waiting on a call. i have no job, no income. this may be an issue. if it is, i may be fucked. i applied for a job with the advanced research division of a well known maker of audio cards and related software, etc. it is a lead engineer job and i am perfectly qualified for it. it would be a great job, a short commute. it would be long hours and not what i intended to do with my summer. when the house sells i will buy a laptop. if it sells anywhere near what i am asking for it i will net $100K. i will be able to afford a laptop. i want a long battery life. i want to be able to write my novel from a variety of locations. this is assuming i do not get a job. this is assuming i have a novel in me. there are positive developments with my beautiful ex-fiancee. N, the more recent one. they are both beautiful. we spent a solid 24 hours together this week. we ate at our chinese joint, we drank wine out of a paper bag in under the night sky on our beach. the beach where she realized she was in love with me. she is still in love with me. but we are not together in any official sense. and the wedding remains off. i have panic attacks on a daily basis. mild ones. nothing near the one that prompted the (near) end of alcohol. this morning i spilled paint on the plastic dropcloth, a non-issue, and started crying. i'd like to be an adult again, please. i recall a time when i could hold myself together. at least, i think i can recall such a time. was it the job? i think the stresses of the job were hard on me but i kept myself from being completely flipped out. did i? i don't trust my memory. is it the uncertainty? not knowing where i am going to live next? not knowing if the money will last until the house sells? is it the loneliness? not talking to anyone face to face all day long? not having seen another person in 24 hours? don't i like to be alone? don't i? i thought getting the STD results would lighten my load. maybe it did for a day. i thought getting laid again would loosen my shoulders. again, maybe for a day. will finding a place to live do it? will selling the house do it? what if i get to the end of this tunnel and find a cliff? i used to have this perfect philosophy where i trusted the Universe and the Universe took care of me. i don't think the Universe has stopped taking care of me, but where the fuck is my trust? am i being Job'ed (long O) and failing? am i failing? |
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see, for you it's all, "yikes, life hurts all of a sudden!" for me, it's sublimated into everyday life. it's the baseline. don't let it become your baseline. rock out with your cock out, nate. |
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i wait til 9 to take my ambien. i take only a half too, that's all you need. those itty bitty white pills are potent. "what if i get to the end of this tunnel and find a cliff?" get a harness and start climbing. |
This is important knowledge. We can't change others. But we can change how we let them effect us. Put on your captains hat, and take charge of your ship. Now. |
thanks guys, for some reason words like yours, which in the past i would harumph, are quite motivational. i've had a very humbling time lately. i'm going to come out of this a very different person. "rock out with your cock out, nate." yesterday i was painting my bedroom, with the paint cans out on the back deck. i was going commando in a pair of pants that already have paint on them, and a wife beater. i'm in an odd place right now where 34" pants are slipping down on my ass. so, i'm popping a paint lid, filling a paint tray or something, bent over sporting crevasse to the world. i look up behind me and there is this 19 year old neighbor girl staring at me from the deck above mine. she'd been filling the squirrel feeder and was obviously mesmerized by the crack of my ass. she looks startled but doesn't look away. i look down and these pants have done what they've done for as long as i've worn them: the zipper mysteriously descended and the business end of my snotrifle was exploring the outside air. rock out. |
Don't sweat it, things are going to be fine. Give it some time (this advice is to both you and me). Keep moving in the direction you are, and if there is a cliff, repel down it or build a bridge. |
The Shaking Fears are bad company. I feel for you, Nate. |
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no sarcasm taken, spidey. |
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she's turned angry sams life around. paraphrasing him "when you see this kid cling to mommies teat, and smile when she farts, you realize how cruel the world is, how pure we once were before we became a terrorist, a Donald Rumsfeld, a suicide bomber, a christian conservative, an environmentalist, all soldiers for their 'just' armies. there is no fight in her, and im hoping to steer the rest of my life back into that direction" |
i think they're pretty solid. a big chunk of their profit comes from the pc entertainment sector. games. games never go out of style, even through this recession the video games industry has done well. |
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and i have to see that kid. |
Trust in the higher power is one of the most difficult things to acquire, I think. I have a lot of difficulty in this area, too. This is much easier said than done, but I think the trick is to act as though you trust, and the trust will come. (Much like faith.) Last year, when I was preparing to move out into my own apartment, I was having daily panic attacks and crying spells, and I spent a lot of time in church praying for help -- praying that my application for the apartment would be accepted, and that I'd be able to fit all my stuff in the Uhaul, and that I'd get everything coordinated and moved out and in at the right times (and that I would be able to live on my own without going crazy). My anxiety levels were sky high, and I prayed the same prayers over and over. Then I stopped, and thought about the situation from God's perspective. He knew, for example, that in a week, my application would be accepted. So to him, I must have seemed like a kid pestering her father for something and not listening to his answer -- "Dad, can I please go out and play?" "Okay, sure." "Dad, really, could I please go out and play?" "I said yes, go ahead." "Dad, PLEASE, I'm begging you, could I go out and play?" "YES, dammit, I said yes!" I slowed down and looked at what I was asking for -- I was asking for a safe, affordable place to live. There's nothing unreasonable about that request. Nothing extravagant or exotic or difficult. Why *wouldn't* God want me to live somewhere safe and affordable? Of *course* he would help me. He's a reasonable being. What are you asking for, Nate? A place to live and a means to support yourself and companionship. There's nothing extravagant or ridiculous about that request. There's no reason you won't be taken care of. Have faith. :) |
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Of course this hasn't worked for me. My world is still a mess. I'm sure though one of these days we'll both get it right. Hopefully, it will be before we're ninety. |
when the engagement started, two weeks ago, it was to last a year or two. but my mother and her questions about logistics made me cry every day, then I decided better to cry every day for two and a half months than for one and a half years. I have somehow found rings, a date, a place, an officiant, a caterer, and a photographer, hanson photography dot com. I have a lead on a cake. tomorrow I hope to find a dress. I really just want to get it over with, but I keep remembering something I read in a little house book long ago. marry in haste, repent in leisure. |
? god, it sounds so torturous. if that's even a word. doesn't look like a word. just fuckin hook up and get on with it. c'mon, you know better than that. |
all you married suckahs. |
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Go see my good friend Jen at Cicada, and tell her that Kelsey sent you. First Avenue, right near the Harbor Steps. |
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wow, I didn't know I had a cicada connection. one of my fancy friends told me, "there's only three places in seattle to get a dress: cicada, blah blah, and blah blah." too late, though! I got my dress in portland yesterday. the only place I went, the first dress I tried on, no alterations needed, $600. I bought it from my favorite local designer's frill line on her last day before she took her maternity leave. another local designer (both mentioned in this article http://www.wweek.com/flatfiles/allstories.lasso?xxin=3791) is making the veil for $95. it sounds like so much money, but dresses are really supposed to cost $1,000 (before the hundreds of dollars in alterations) and veils are supposed to cost $150. I have no idea why they are supposed to cost that much. while I was at the dress boutique I also tried on a little cardigan twin set from patrick's wife's line. (sleeves too short, damn.) two cute german flight attendants are doing the catering for my wedding. the officiant is going to be one of the three other people who were there the night that we met. the wedding is going to take place in his folks' waterfront backyard on a nearby island. the tide will be rising. that's supposed to be good luck. we might go on a canoe ride. how goddamn fucking cute is that? |
I love shopping for wedding stuff and planning weddings. It's fun. Expensive, but fun. |
i never played with dolls or anything so i don't really relate to realizing that dollhouse fantasy roleplaying thing. seems goofy and unnecessary but if it contributes to happiness in some way . . . why not? |
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cyst, please tell us about your fiance. how did you meet? what's he like? what's his gig? etc. |
chicks enjoy this shit....and when they enjoy themselves, you enjoy yourself, eventually. we're you at tumbleweed cyst? |
i wasn't trying to be an ass. i guess it's becoming a bit too effortless. now, where'd i put that hairshirt? |
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agatha, david called and left a message, saying you two ran into each other. neato! |
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Hope your marrage lasts as long as mine has so far; 28 years and still going. How many morrors did I break anyway? |
I was being set up with someone, a fact was beknownst to all but me. we went out in a group of five, and I fell for the wrong one. we drank a lot, and when he was in the bathroom, I confessed to the others that I thought he was cute, and I was told he was married, separated for all of two weeks. I almost wrote him off, but instead I thought we could just keep it casual, which we did for several months. it got less and less casual. he quit his job. now he's a student. and he plays in a rock band. he's smart and good-looking and kind and sort of funny. |
hey, patrick, last week I met kiefer sutherland at that italian place in silverlake. the one that's down a block from spaceland. |
I liked him in Phone Booth. |
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about a month or two ago, sitting curbside at a french cafe in los feliz. so, what, you were here for a few hours then gone? |
I ordered the pizza at michelangelo. I was by myself and not hungry, but I wanted to have a meal I could linger over. that's when kiefer sutherland, whom I had already decided not to acknowledge unless he started talking to me, started talking to me. he and his companion were sitting at the sidewalk table next to mine, and he said the pizza looked good. I asked him if he wanted any and he said no. he said he always gets the chicken marsala and his companion (a skinny blonde, of course) always gets the sole. we talked about the club and my fiance's band and blah blah. he was very nice. I was glad I'd changed into a slutty tank top and put some lip color on. then during another three-hours-of-awake-time stop in los angeles, we went to the electric lotus, which had great fattening indian food. is that the los feliz area? then when I returned to LA at 11 p.m. one night, after a day of not buying the overpriced food at hearst castle, I had a magnificent double decker taco supreme and beautiful burrito near melrose. |
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my friend mishie dated william hearst III for about a year. when she and i returned to maui after a week on the big island, he picked us up at the airport in a bentley stretch limo. it was ridiculous. |
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she leaves me because she can't see around small problems that most people would try to work through. it is her baggage, her goddamn deadbeat father. her distrust of men and relationships. i am so afraid that if she wants me back i will go back. i hurt physically. i want her so badly. the night she left me i wished to be taken in my sleep. what did maya angelou say about not being able to control what happens to you, but being able to control how you react? i'd like to be done, either way. i have no internet for a week at least. |
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I feel for you, man. |
at some point i have to protect myself from this? so i can't take her back even if she wants me back? i have to rip out everything inside me that is our shared future, our little rituals that i look forward to, my love that is no longer appropriate in the love of friends. friends? can i even do this? can i see her with another man, as i surely will have to? can i face this future? i don't want to. i want to stop existing silently and painlessly. retroactively dissolve back to my first point so that no lives have ever met my touch and no hearts will miss my passing. i see so little worth in my future. i see so little need for continuing this. i've lost trust in people. i've realized my years of self-centered existance have brought me to a point where i know no one. i am alone. i don't want to meet anyone new. i don't want to go through the process of discovering new people. i fear my disappointment in the human race. i fear my involuntary smug looks that reveal my thoughts of superiority. i hate my thoughts of superiority. they are a gut feeling that is clearly wrong to the rational mind but squeezes the adrenal gland regardless. i've been humbled like never before these past few months. i could grow into a better person. i could die young. at this point i don't care which, and i have no desire to work towards either. so, whatever. my old house is completely cleaned out, and all my stuff from the yard will be gone by the end of monday. i want to get up monday morning and take care of those last details and then come home and fall into the ocean. the ocean my mother the ocean my priest the ocean will rock me and cleanse me and renew my spirit. i hope. if not, i will repeat every day until it does. or until it takes me. |
And, you don't need to die. But you know that part of you does, or at least that part of you needs to change beyond all recognition. (And, isn't that what death is, really?) You just said it. It's the part that's gotten you where you are now. Take this opportunity life has given you, not to end it, but to start again. I had to face something like this a couple of years ago. I realized that the women I accepted into my life were bad for me. They turned me on, they excited me, but they were the kind of women who would manipulate me. (Or, I would let myself be manipulated by them.) So I let into my life someone who didn't excite me to the core, but whom I figured wouldn't rip my heart out when given the chance. I had to start again from scratch, and that involved doubting my very drive to love, the kind of women I was driven to love, and my ability to judge other people. I'm still doing that, and it's hard, but not impossible. But, don't worry about that now. Now, just live. |
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Go play in the sand like a child, and start fresh. The past is done, nothing can change any of that now, but letting it beat you is the wrong choice |
from my journal: --- I said goodbye to N tonight. We slept together Sunday night and were feeling like friends+ for a few days. I went to see counselor on Tuesday and she brought up the flip side of abandonment baggage: while I was going on the assumption that N was leaving me before I could leave her, there is also the possibility that she is extending herself beyond what she is comfortable will because she is afraid of losing my love (as a friend, as another human.) That night I called N and told her that I would love her as a friend even without the romantic side. I told her that there is nothing dark inside her that I could discover that would subdue the light I find in her; nothing would take away my love for her. She appreciated that and, I think, has been clearer with me about how she is feeling. Or perhaps the counselor helped bring me to a place where I could better hear N's words. Tonight N and I ran West Cliff. I asked her to come back to my place after the run and she was hesitant. I wanted some kind of closure and persisted. I told her I wanted to say goodbye to who we were so that I could move more easily into friendship. I think she was dubious but relented. We sat on the couch. Kissed softly, innocently. We talked for a long time. I told her I was going to cry, that she could leave if she couldn't handle it. If she didn't want to handle it. She stayed. I cried weakly, softly. She held me against her chest. She said she had to go. I kissed her softly, innocently. I told her I was going to kiss her goodbye. I told her that this would be my closure. I started crying heavily, earnestly. Heaving, tears falling from my cheeks into her breasts. She pulled me into her. I cried. I lifted my head to kiss her. She kissed me passionately, our lips and noses slick with tears. I couldn't stop crying. Into her chest I cried. I cried and cried and then my chest heaved and my breath left me and my body went limp. I rose to kiss her and kissed her and kissed her with so much passion. Kissed her goodbye. Now she's gone. I can't see her for awhile. I don't want to do this. I really, really don't want to do this. But I know I can do this. And I know I haven't lost the friend. --- but for god, i fear nothing. i am sad but no longer depressed. i am calm. i love her, and the bulk of my future remains intact. we can still hike big basin, run west cliff, swim out past the wharf, kayak elkhorn slough. the marriage, the children, the grandchildren are gone, but those dreams were premature. she fell prey to my ability to construct fantastic worlds, as did i. she woke up, and soon i am convinced i will wake up too. in time. i am playing bass in my friend's band. i told him i wanted to play bass on my heels, let someone else write the songs. he writes good songs. soul. i have an outline of a book. i am going to write it. i am calm. |
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Will we get to sample your music and your book? |
I'm still working on that myself. |
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someone else who accidentally has sex! |
hell no, maybe, i guess- is the answer that i give when you ask me to come over hell no, maybe, i guess. once again i'm in your arms beguiled by your charm i wonder if i'm doing harm hell no, maybe, i guess. my voice has deluxe twang. i need me a telecaster, a bottle of knob creek, and a bar with peanut shells on the floor and good ol' boys playing dominio in their shitkickers. |
can you play twleve string nate? have you tried? man, id love to be able to play one of those. maybe you could find work in a bar nate? i washed dishes for sometime and it kinda sucked after a while. drive a bus, or work in a bar. hell....open your own bar someday. and play twelve string on saturday nights. sorry...im fantasizing vicariously i know. |
i've played a twelve string. strumming is just like playing a six string. a twelve is a six with each string paired with an octave higher string EADGBE becomes EEAADDGGBBEE. you finger two strings at a time. it's been at least five years since i've had one in my hands. my friend who has one strings it like a six now. i should get him to lend it to me. he has my five string bass and my banjo. |
after all, its all about location. i don't know what the Santa Cruz commericial scene is like but i have no doubt that once you had a great location, all the city/country ordinance crap taken care and suppliers established that you could make a fantastic bar. |
sorry, mom mode kicking in. i'll go away now. a restaurant, however... that, i could see. |
i think the problem with restaurants (and probably bars) is how risky an investment they are. it's a crap shoot. |
ain no dry restaurant makin money further, ive never seen anything to indicate nate couldnt handle his liquor. it IS a crap shot nate, but you have better odds in a college town...i would think. |
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and of course the whole liquor license matter. oh well. maybe you could sell incense? |
Today's his 23rd birthday. |
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*Spider is uptight because doesn't want to make the brownies *Spider is uptight, period. *Spider is NOT uptight, brother has a skewed perspective, seeing as he is the polar opposite of uptight and is in fact irresponsible. *Brother also holds band practices and shows in basement with average audience of 50 without notifying dad in advance, let alone asking dad for permission. Inconsiderate. At that point, we declared "whatever" and watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. |
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basement nor would he mooch |
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im just talking the idea of rockin out in his parents basement, perhaps when their out of town, and cooking pot pasta. ok. maybe not 23, but 17. oh wait. not nate. that was me. and it was acid...AND pot. not 50 people. just 10 of us, on many hits of acid. spider , your pop is a grown man, let him sort it out if he chooses to. |
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My brother has always done as he pleased and doesn't respond to punishment. Fortunately, holding shows in the basement and making "special" brownies are probably the worst things he does -- he's not a bad kid. |
I'm not saying that your judgement of your father is wrong, just that you are contradicting yourself left and right. Look into yourself to find the reasons for those contradictions before you judge others. |
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I know the guy. I'm generalizing based on his own behavior. You're generalizing based on others' behavior. You cannot compare him to others, because for the most part, he doesn't work like other people work. I mean, he's human and he's sane, so there are some basic generalizations you can make, but he's not motivated by the same things others are, or at least, not in the same form others' motivations take. So, he's motivated by a desire for comfort, security, etc. but his comfort doesn't take the form yours does. I mean, within reason -- he likes a comfy chair and a cold beer as much as the next guy. But he's not somebody who looks at a carefree youth and thinks, "Man, that looks nice." It doesn't look nice to him. What the hell, you've inspired me to ask him directly if he gets anything out of letting my brother do whatever he wants. I'll post his response. |
"You're generalizing based on others' behavior." Not really. There's a difference between saying "maybe he's thinking X" and "he's not thinking Y." Do you see it? |
You know what I predict will happen? *************** Me: I was thinking about you and [brother] and the way you let him have shows in the basement and don't do anything to stop him...and I was wondering (now don't laugh, I'm being serious) if you let him do it because you like letting him do things you weren't able to do? [or something similar] Him: [laughing]...[more laughing] Me: No, really. Him: [Italian for "oh, go on"] Me: I'm serious! Is it because you like the company, or you like the fact that these kids feel welcome in your home? Are you just getting old? Are you too tired to be strict? Him: [laughing] Me: Come on! What is it?? Him: [dismissing the question or changing the subject] ********************** We'll see. :) I'll call him tonight. |
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The example question, "if you let him do it because you like letting him do things you weren't able to do?" is not just a question. It's also an answer. Just ask the question. And be specific. "Dad...why do you let [brother] have 50 people over without asking?" Maybe he's laughing because you're asking a question like you already "know" the answer. If I was him, and you were my daughter, I'd probably react in exactly the same way. |
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Then again, I enjoy prefer living in uncertainty. :P |
He didn't laugh, and he said, "No, not at all." He said, first of all, the music doesn't bother him, and after the second time, he knew what the drill was and knew that nothing dangerous or chaotic would happen. It's not that the 50 kids are there at once -- he says a few will show up to hear one band, and then they'll leave and others will show up to hear the next band, etc. The kids stay in the basement and on the first floor, and my dad stays upstairs and writes email and stuff. He's told my brother to make sure too many people aren't in the basement at one time, because of the fire hazard. My dad also said that he likes knowing that my brother is downstairs, so he doesn't have to worry about where he is and what trouble he's getting into. So there you go. Those sound like normal paternal motivations, don't they? |
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here you were worrying that your brother was walking all over your dad, "doormat"? as well as got into a scrap with your bro calling him inconsiderate when it sounds as if he and your dad had pow wow about it before. now don't you feel a little silly? |
My dad said last night that he has told my brother to cancel a few shows after he didn't find out enough in advance that they were happening. Apparently the audience is mostly made of members of a particular listserv, and the news of cancellation can travel quickly. I still love the kid....we get into scraps a lot, but our relationship is fine. |
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"Spider, and they said, 'maybe your dad lets him do that because he was never able to do things like that when he was younger, so he likes allowing his son to do things he couldn't.'" Which friend said that? Wasn't me... Reality is interesting all by itself. Just observe it. Try not to embellish it. Anyway, saying "A friend of mine thought you might be thinking X" is a cop out. You're still putting thoughts in his head, still embellishing reality with your own interpretation. Just observe. |
Back to Nate and his owning a bar: Doesn't anyone remember multiple posts where Nate was drunk and semi-suicidal? When I say he can't handle them alcohol, I guess what I mean is that it seems to do something funky in his body and makes his body chemistry all kinds of wacky. Just to clarify. My sister goes through severe bouts of depression, but is also a chronic pot smoker. I once suggested to her that, rather than continuing to take antidepressants, she try to cut out the pot, and she poopooed me. I'm still convinced that it's the pot that depresses her, but whatever. |
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and it makes people stupid [temporarily] despite what they think maybe she's self medicating for anxiety and then what is left is depression. how would i know, though. i just don't like pot in general. |
I think pot is kind of stupid, too, but I've known too many high functioning stoners to think that it makes people stupid. It makes some people frighteningly smart and productive, and others stupid. |
I don't like pot in general, either. It's probably the more benign than alcohol, but it stinks and it makes you act like an idiot. Reason enough to avoid it. |
And, I dig pot, but don't do it much. The last time was about six weeks ago, but before that it'd been about five years. I enjoy observing the effects it has on my perception. I'll bet that suprised the fuck outta ya'll. |
cloves would do except make me want to eat icecream. why should we be surprised? |
pot intensifies my anxiety. alcohol depresses me. i'm mostly avoiding both right now and am not sure that the posts refered to were posted drunk. i appreciate the concern, though. |
i dont smoke nearly as much pot as i used to. for obvious reasons and some not so obvious reasons. but more over, i just don't enjoy it like i used to. it makes me tired and uneasy. sometimes however, say when im outdoors, at night, i really enjoy it after a long stressful day. if anything, i get really innovative, and my mind races with ideas for projects and photos...it can be a catalyst for inspiration. sometimes, i'll sit out back and look around the yard and think of 20 different projects I could amuse myself with. but at other times, i smoke, only to regret smoking. its like i make countless efforts to attain the buzz that i think i remember from times gone by. |
Pipe smoke smells good. People should smoke more pipes. |
So since I can't remember a good buzz from it and can vividly remember the horrifying nightmares, I just don't bother. But to each his own. It's kinda like I did it socially when I was younger, and outgrew it with time and life. It's just not my thing. Give me a good bottle of wine instead, thank you. |
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Well, essentially, yeah, but I don't think it's intentional. And in this case it's a teeny white lie anyway. But the embellishing comes in, for instance, when I said your dad may have been living vicariously, you jumed to "they said, 'maybe your dad lets him do that because he was never able to do things like that when he was younger'." |
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The lime and tangerine go good with tequila, but the strawberry is better with rum. |
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