I deleted my dad's e-mail from my contacts list. Ironically Lucinda Williams' song "Out of Touch" was playing as I did this. My dad's been dead for two years now. Sometimes I still daydream he's alive and he's won the national championship (my dad was a football coach for those who don't know or remember). That's how I related to him pretty much, as a coach. He wasn't a really great father, and I'm sad to say this. But I learned some great values from him, mostly watching him coach. He had an unfailing belief in victory. He always believed in me, when mostly I didn't believe in myself. In that respect he was a terrific father. He could be very, VERY funny. He had a mean temper. He sacrificed his family for his career, and, to some degree, regretted this. I miss him... I miss him VERY much. I'm still angry with him (I'm often angry anyway). My eyes are tearing up as I write this with a lump in my throat. I cried pretty hard at his funeral. So much pain. I miss him so VERY much. How do you fucking deal with loss? You live with it. You carry on. It's fucked up, you know? I tried to talk to him, wrote him letters, he tried to understand me when often I didn't understand myself. I deal with this the best I can, but it's fucked up. But then life isn't pretty or easy. It's a bitch sometimes. My dad had great taste in music- he influenced me a lot in this area. He was VERY opinionated (and usually pretty conservative) to which I rebelled and LOUDLY stated MY goddamn opinions. I'm still doing this lol!
Oh well... let go. Let go. I took out his name, address, & phone number from my address book a long time ago, but never could get myself to delete his e-mail address. I just couldn't let go. Couldn't. fuck this hurts. death sucks, period. i hate this. it just hurts sooooo much. but i'll carry on. if you've lost someone then maybe you know how I feel. it sucks, it's shitty. i'm gonna go listen to some more Lucinda Williams & cry. Peace out.....
Saturday, November 10, 2007
A MISSION STATEMENT FOR THIS BLOG.
A Mission Statement: Why I'm publishing this blog.
In 2003 I actively protested the coming war in Iraq. At a rally here in Dallas, as I marched & chanted, I saw a woman holding a sign that read "what you're doing doesn't matter" (or to that effect). I dismissed such thoughts. Turns out she was correct, it didn't matter. President Bush had clearly made up his mind to attack Iraq and nothing would thwart his plans. Over the last four years watching this debacle unfold just as I knew it would, I've become more depressed and angry. I began to think about HOW change could come in my country, and if it was even worth the attempt to try. What was MY role in change?
In 2005 I viewed the movie "Downfall"- a harrowing, sad account of Hitler's final days in his bunker beneath Berlin. The film deeply disturbed me and I became more despondent. I began to research the Nazi reign of terror and found intelligent men and women dedicated to a debased ideology, thoroughly dedicated I might add. The first concentration camp the Nazis opened was Dachau, northwest of Munich, in 1933. The first prisoners of this hell on earth were political opponents of the Nazis, and then later Jews, homosexuals, Jehovah's Witnesses, and dissenting clergy. Basically if you publicly asked the above question in regards to the Nazis, "what is my role in change?" you signed away your life to imprisonment. If you questioned the regime but would recant or just shut your mouth, you might simply lose your job and interred to house imprisonment or just live in complete fear of everyone and everything. What a life to live! Knowing myself today, in the years preceding the Nazi takeover, I probably would have written letters to editors, participated in protests, and loudly told my family and friends exactly what I thought of these lowlifes. Then, once the lowlifes took power? What? Would I have had the courage to face torture, imprisonment, and probable death? I would like to think I would, but maybe I would have just crawled back into a hole & lived in fear, telling myself "I tried, it's not worth it, it doesn't matter, and I'm alive." Lots of people did exactly this. But that's not a way to live life.
Lastly I've been a music critic for the Dallas Music Guide. I didn't get paid for it, but got to review concerts & records. I enjoyed it, but it was difficult. I struggled with my reviews- were they "good"? People kept telling me I was a good writer, but I doubted & struggled, so much that sometimes I sunk to despair and simply wouldn't write. I screwed up a good thing. I love to write. I can carefully craft my opinions, ideas, and observations. I'm not the best public speaker, nor am the most outgoing of people (well I can be pretty cute & goofy, but it might be due to alcohol ha ha!) I wanted to GET PAID for writing, but didn't take the chances (mostly). I did some non-music journalism for a local paper & received payment, but didn't pursue it with much gusto.
So what does the preceding mean? It means: 1. Ask the questions, think the thoughts, contemplate your role in change.
2. The bastards will get you in the end anyway, so you might as well speak your mind. 3. Life is delicate, you might die tomorrow, so if you say outrageous things, do outrageous things, then you're just living your life. So live it.
Thus this blog is born. I will say what I want to say. I may say TOO much. I may reveal TOO much. I may aggravate people. It is NOT my intent to hurt anyone with my ideas, but some will be offended. To those, in advance, I say "I'm sorry." I can only hope people will read this, comment, discuss, pass these contemplations on to their friends & family. If a discussion can be gained from my ramblings, then I've done my job. Hopefully I'll make some new friends & strengthen the friendships I do have. Lastly I do hope I can convince editors to realize I DO have talent in writing and WILL take the chance and give me paid work. But if that doesn't happen, well I got my day job!
What to expect: record & concert reviews, rants & raves, interviews, stories, contemplations, diary entries, possible fiction and who knows what else. It's open...
In 2003 I actively protested the coming war in Iraq. At a rally here in Dallas, as I marched & chanted, I saw a woman holding a sign that read "what you're doing doesn't matter" (or to that effect). I dismissed such thoughts. Turns out she was correct, it didn't matter. President Bush had clearly made up his mind to attack Iraq and nothing would thwart his plans. Over the last four years watching this debacle unfold just as I knew it would, I've become more depressed and angry. I began to think about HOW change could come in my country, and if it was even worth the attempt to try. What was MY role in change?
In 2005 I viewed the movie "Downfall"- a harrowing, sad account of Hitler's final days in his bunker beneath Berlin. The film deeply disturbed me and I became more despondent. I began to research the Nazi reign of terror and found intelligent men and women dedicated to a debased ideology, thoroughly dedicated I might add. The first concentration camp the Nazis opened was Dachau, northwest of Munich, in 1933. The first prisoners of this hell on earth were political opponents of the Nazis, and then later Jews, homosexuals, Jehovah's Witnesses, and dissenting clergy. Basically if you publicly asked the above question in regards to the Nazis, "what is my role in change?" you signed away your life to imprisonment. If you questioned the regime but would recant or just shut your mouth, you might simply lose your job and interred to house imprisonment or just live in complete fear of everyone and everything. What a life to live! Knowing myself today, in the years preceding the Nazi takeover, I probably would have written letters to editors, participated in protests, and loudly told my family and friends exactly what I thought of these lowlifes. Then, once the lowlifes took power? What? Would I have had the courage to face torture, imprisonment, and probable death? I would like to think I would, but maybe I would have just crawled back into a hole & lived in fear, telling myself "I tried, it's not worth it, it doesn't matter, and I'm alive." Lots of people did exactly this. But that's not a way to live life.
Lastly I've been a music critic for the Dallas Music Guide. I didn't get paid for it, but got to review concerts & records. I enjoyed it, but it was difficult. I struggled with my reviews- were they "good"? People kept telling me I was a good writer, but I doubted & struggled, so much that sometimes I sunk to despair and simply wouldn't write. I screwed up a good thing. I love to write. I can carefully craft my opinions, ideas, and observations. I'm not the best public speaker, nor am the most outgoing of people (well I can be pretty cute & goofy, but it might be due to alcohol ha ha!) I wanted to GET PAID for writing, but didn't take the chances (mostly). I did some non-music journalism for a local paper & received payment, but didn't pursue it with much gusto.
So what does the preceding mean? It means: 1. Ask the questions, think the thoughts, contemplate your role in change.
2. The bastards will get you in the end anyway, so you might as well speak your mind. 3. Life is delicate, you might die tomorrow, so if you say outrageous things, do outrageous things, then you're just living your life. So live it.
Thus this blog is born. I will say what I want to say. I may say TOO much. I may reveal TOO much. I may aggravate people. It is NOT my intent to hurt anyone with my ideas, but some will be offended. To those, in advance, I say "I'm sorry." I can only hope people will read this, comment, discuss, pass these contemplations on to their friends & family. If a discussion can be gained from my ramblings, then I've done my job. Hopefully I'll make some new friends & strengthen the friendships I do have. Lastly I do hope I can convince editors to realize I DO have talent in writing and WILL take the chance and give me paid work. But if that doesn't happen, well I got my day job!
What to expect: record & concert reviews, rants & raves, interviews, stories, contemplations, diary entries, possible fiction and who knows what else. It's open...
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