Dear Roger: Death Dreams,Strap Ons and a 6 Toed Cat

Well as you can see by the picture, I finally just went a bought me a damned guitar. Couldn't really afford it, but couldn't really afford not to because I was getting a bit buggy without something to pluck around with. Chance and I have been taking turns with it and so far it seems to be working out okay. I am still writing like crazy, in fact, I am just taking a bit of a break from the story to reconsider a part of it and to allow my brain to just rest a bit. Its hard to rehash so much of the things that went down, though Chance claims that I have been in a much better mood since I started writing about it. I told it it feels like finally throwing up after being sick for a really long time. You fight that queasy feeling because you know its going to be bad, you change positions, maybe even eat some bland crackers to try and make it pass, but until you finally give in and just throw up, you dont feel right, and writing this story out is my way of throwing up. I guess I am finally starting to feel better.

Chance and I even joked quite a bit about the guitar and he was even enjoying listening to me trying to start playing again. I am so far out of practice its not even funny, but I plan on spending as much time as I can when I am not writing, getting back into it, because I have 6 songs that I need to set to a tune. I started plucking out the one that really keeps speaking to me, "Over-Privileged ,Dirty White Boy Blues" and the glass slide really made sis freak out. She insisted I was hurting the guitar or doing something wrong, but I guess she just doesn't get the whole Blues style.

Chance and I had quite a debate over putting the strap on the guitar. He is fixing to be 15 years old, so you would think I would know better, but NOOOO, silly me, I tossed the strap at him and said," Son, I need you to put the strap on." The little snot just started giggling and before I could even say anything he said," Thats what she said." Rog! I could not believe it! My 15 year old son made a "strap on" joke to me! Oh my God! I was flat speechless for a minute or two just kinda blinking at him and then all I could say was,"Duuuude, thats just WRONG on soo many levels." He turned red then and said,"Yeah, I know, im sorry, but you gotta admit, its funny." And yeah, it was funny, but maybe if he was 25 and not 15!

Ive been having the weirdest damn dream lately. I dont usually dream very vividly or remember them, but I have had this one fairly frequently and it has occurred several times over the past week or two and to the point that its got me a bit bugged trying to figure out just what the hell it means. I keep dreaming about death, as in mine.

I have never expected to go out all quiet and peaceful like in my own bed or in my sleep, I tend to dance a little to closely on the edge of things for that to happen, but this is so damn clear that got me to actually doing some thinking. In my dream, I am walking up Eastman with my earbuds in and even the song is clear, "Long road Home" and I am wearing my favorite jeans and my fire dept sweatshirt,(which I hardly ever wear because its getting fragile),my leather jacket and my oldest boots, and my favorite black hat, and I have my new Washburn in the gigbag on my back headed back from somewhere downtown when a grey truck jumps the curb at the corner and hits me from behind as I am walking up the hill and spot G standing under a tree at the top of the hill. It was so damn vivid last night that I woke up this morning with my back hurting, seeing his face in my mind again. Its a bit disconcerting to be dreaming of getting smacked by a damn truck when I walk past that very spot today and there is evidence of previous accidents in that very spot. I am not one to go hedging my bets, so perhaps I will avoid that part of the road for a bit,though both of us know if its time for me to come a calling, I wouldn't be sorry to see you.

Ended up with another stray for the time being, someone dumped an odd little 6 toed cat on our front door step so we have taken her in until we either find her a new home or her owners or things settle down. Right now, her and our other cat arent getting along and its wearing us all down.

Dear Roger:The Names Have Changed To Protect The Guilty

Well Rog, I would apologize for it being a long time since I have written, but I know you would understand my reason, I am in the midst of a jag and its been damn hard to walk away from it. I finally started writing and it has just been pouring out of me. I found a way of distancing myself from the pain by changing the characters into men, and I am actually writing the 1st person view from his perspective, (hows that for fucked up?)I dont know if it will help me to understand his motivations any better, but I do know it keeps it all just far enough away that I dont fall apart writing it. I uploaded and published a teaser for it and the reviews and interest have been fantastic. In just 24 hours I have had over 200 hits and the reviews have been very, very positive which I find odd considering the teaser I threw up felt truncated and rushed to me. I have over 20k words done in the past 24 hours and I would have more done, but my eyes keep getting tired and I have to take a break. I was a damn song that finally got me to do it. I have been walking around with all that hurt and pain in me for so long, no way to get rid of all the shame and feeling of rejection and then I was just listening to my music at work, and I was sharing it with this chick who had never heard of my favorite band the 100 Monkeys. I played her my favorite song,"LDF" . I told her the story behind it and she said,"Wow, how brave of him to put that out kind of hurt out there." and I realized she was right, that kid is brave enough to show the entire world his and get rid of it, and it seems to be working for him, so dammit its time for me to show mine. I sat down and thought about the best way of doing things and it just started rolling. Chance realized something was up when he saw me typing constantly instead of just reading, and he asked me what was going on. I told him I was finally getting rid of some things and talking about it and he told me some things that surprised me.

"Aunt Trina hates him worse than any of the other men that you have ever dated,worse than Ed,worse than my father, she fucking HATES him, so does memaw and papa, I hate him too." I was shocked to hear that, My family never met him, my sister maybe met him once and my son was too young to remember him, but he got up and started pacing back and forth in that tense and trying not to cry way he has when hes really worked up, " Aunt Trina says he killed the best part of you, that when he got done playing with you, you didnt believe in yourself anymore. You stopped smiling and that you used to have this light in your eyes that told people you were going to set the world on fire,she says he is the one who put it out." She told me you disappeared for a while after you left Yuma and they thought you had killed yourself or just died of sadness, and when you finally resurfaced with Ed, they figured you had found someone to do the favor for you. He has been this cancer in you for most of my life, giving you just enough to give you hope, but never enough to make you healthy and happy. He killed the best part of you and he is why your eyes quit smiling. I dont blame Ed for the things he did so much, he was just dealing with a situation that was so fucked up that it would make any man crazy, I blame that son of a bitch for not making a clean break so you never wanted to see him again and could get on with your life."

When he first realized what I was writing, my son was upset, but then he saw how I was writing it, and what it was doing for me,and he has become supportive, even asking if he can read it,(NO, its very much a mature story) , but what gets me is how vividly the memories come flowing back and how easily I am able to twist them just enough to make it not hurt when I throw them out into the world. I threw up a couple of times after I published the first chapter. I am just not one for sharing my work, so its kinda a weird feeling putting it out where its meant to be seen and read and commented on and watching the comments and reviews come in. Its also very, very addicting, kinda like the few times I performed my poetry and did my motivational speaking on a large public sale and folks liked it, the feeling of standing up there on stage with people clapping and laughing when they were supposed to laugh was a powerful and wonderfully seductive thing, but that was when I was still able to do those things.

I am planning on posting a chapter a week, and writing it all out well in advance so that I dont leave my readers hanging, but the story really has no end and I am not sure how I am going to address that one.

Thanksgiving was an interesting affair. We ended up eating with my friends family and some of her friends in a kind of odd ,"Orphans" type of meal. I made mashed potatoes and rolls and deviled eggs, but due to my wisdom teeth blowing up on me I was doped up on Vicodin and beer trying to keep the pain to a dull roar, and I dont know if you remember, but Vicodin gives me the giggles and beer makes me talkative, add in an old man with a jar of pickles, my smart assed son, a pervy little rock star and his weird song called,"Jonesing for Pickels" and you have me getting a fit of the giggles so bad that I snorted potatoes through my nose, and fell out of my damn chair. They had to put that plate of pickles in front of me,Chance just had to raise his eyebrows and grin, and that was all she wrote. I ended up getting sent home early after I could not get it under control, because when that old man said,"Son, if you want a pickle I will give you one." well...you know, spitting soda across a table is just kinda frowned upon.

Christmas is going to be spent up here. We are starting are own little traditions as well as maintaining some of our old ones and the kids seem happy so far. We got our traditional Charlie Brown tree, and its a sorry looking little thing, but daughter had a good time decorating it. Our topper is new to us, and we decided in honor of our motivation for moving to Portland and for bringing the happy to us in our new lives, we have a monkey as our angel. Daughter calls it,"Kink Kong" and that never fails to crack me the hell up. Im ordering her presents today, shes getting some of her favorite bands stuff and the DVD of their tour. Its soo funny, I can remember when she loved blocks and baby dolls, but now she wants posters of her favorite little actor/singer and to wear his t-shirts and stuff, its a bit disturbing but I guess it could be worse.

My guitar will be here today!!!! yeah! If it survives shipping that is, I will be playing again tonight and picking out chords for one of the songs I wrote called,"Over-privileged,Dirty, White Boy Blues."

Dear Roger:Blushing at my Age and it Wasn't a Hot Flash.

Well its been a long week. It finally decided to get serious about getting cold and I ended up swiping Chances 2nd favorite hoodie to wear under my coat, just so I have something that will cover my ass. Its soo weird having a kid that is so much bigger than me.He is such a freaking moose that I have to wonder where the hell it comes from. I sometimes feel like I am shrinking as I get older, I never did get over 5'1 even when I stretch, and I hover around 107lbs .Chance is rapidly closing in on 6ft tall and is 170lbs! Hes not fat at all, in fact he likes to show off his six pack and his biceps.I found the funniest picture of him posing for a picture for his girlfriend where hes kissing his bicep like some kind of muscle head. I saved that picture for when he is older and has kids of his own...perfect blackmail material. We have been having some fun as a family, working at getting along better and trying really hard to have good times and understand where each other is coming from. I do still enjoy teasing him and playing pranks on him and he gets soo flustered when I get the best of him that I laugh about it for days. I got him so good the other day that he about peed his pants.

I saw he was walking up the sidewalk towards the apartment, and I stood right beside the door, not really hiding, just being very, very, still (something I am really good at), and he came through with his ear buds in, not paying attention and just in his own world.I waited until he had slammed the door and was into the kitchen and then I slipped up behind him and grabbed him.

Did you know that a teen boy whose vocal range hovers around that of a baritone,can actually reach soprano when you scare the piss out of them? He turned around with his hand on his chest, as pale as a ghost and yelled,"OH! MY! GOD! I soo want to kick your ass mom!!" But he got his revenge, because with yelling,"Oh my God", he got the song,"Wings on Fire" by 100 Monkeys, stuck in my head. I swear to God that song is like the ultimate ear worm for me, it gets in my head and wont stop for days and he KNOWS that, so after he calmed down a bit he told me he was going to get me back beyond getting the song stuck in my head, and bless his heart he has tried. He has hidden around corners,tried jumping out of closets, all kinds of things, but he is about as subtle as a bull elephant. The one good thing to come out of all of this prank playing though is that he is finally paying more attention to his surroundings. It worries me how unobservant he was to the world around him, and he even used to call me paranoid, but I have always found paying attention is the best way to keep safe and alive and more often than not, he has found me to be correct.

Waiting on small daughter to get home off the bus was interesting yesterday. I was standing down on the sidewalk, watching the cars on the road speed by, listening to my ipod and jamming along with my favorites and in a pretty decent mood when I saw this guy walking up the sidewalk. Now, most of the time the guys walking up the sidewalk are transients headed to the church down on the corner of Powell where they give out free food and other things that transients need to get along up here. Half the time they are a little drunk and always kinda grubby, but this guy? this guy was a vision. I initially glanced up and then looked back down, but then realizing what I had seen, I pretty much had to fight hard not to stare. He was so damn cute! He was maybe late 20's early 30's, well dressed in black with BOOTS! and he had a short, blonde crew cut. He was wearing sunglasses as he approached, but he took them off as he got closer and he had those kinda eyes that crinkle up in the corners when he smiles, and Rog, holy freaking hell...He fucking smiled! He smiled at ME! and oh my GOD...he had dimples and straight white teeth and he was gorgeous! I was just flat assed twitterpatted and I know I smiled back, but you know what? I blushed! Me! blushed! He really screwed me up when he said "Hi" and I fumbled trying to get my ear buds out. But I know I said "Hi" back at him, with my face still in flames. He kept walking down the sidewalk as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere, but I couldn't help myself, I just stared at him as he walked away and I saw him glance over his shoulder with a grin still on his face as if he knew exactly what he did to me. Blondes dont usually do anything for me, but I was still out of sorts over 10 minutes later when Chance came walking up. He asked,"What the heck is up with you, you look like you saw a ghost." I asked him if he saw the guy and he said ," Yeah, he was headed to the Max station, why? did he do something to you?" I told him that yeah, he smiled at me. I dont think its really very nice that he simulated vomiting, but hes a teen, I dont think I should have expected anything different. He found it funny as hell that I was still sort of blushing and goofy even later that afternoon.

I dont know who that guy was, or if he will ever come back by my waiting spot again, but I sure could use a rush like that everyday. Its good to know that something can still get me to feel alive.

I'm getting drug into doing Thanksgiving with Sus and her family. We were just going to go out, but Sus invited us and we probably should try to maintain some kind of traditional thing going on for small daughters sake. Christmas is going to be difficult, but we will get it figured out somehow.

I have decided to go back into EMS. Ive been kicking it around for years and its finally reached the point that I just need to do it. Even if I end up working in an Emergency Room as a tech for a while, I need to get back into that world. I miss the rush. Im not going to go back to being a cop, that is just too much of a mindfuck for someone that has my issues, but in EMS its just limited contact, get it done and get gone. I had thought about trying to go into private security or even being a bodyguard , but travel would be too difficult, so I have to do something that will allow me to stay in the Portland area. Im still writing some, and hopefully my guitar will arrive up here soon.

Dear Roger; Your Birthday Is Coming Up Dec 21st,If I Throw A Party Will You Come?

Well Rog, I do have a really good excuse for not writing sooner, I have been writing other things for the first time in a long damn time. I have written 3 songs and my novel has finally shown some damn progress for the first time in a long time. I have been doing my best to keep myself up and motivated, but this time of year just sucks the damn life out of me. I try not to be to morose for the kids, but if it was up to me, I wouldn't get a tree or anything. I am such a god damned selfish person in my heart, but my kids force me to be a decent human being for their sakes. So in the next week or two, I will scramble about and find some lil miserable Charlie Brown looking tree and we will make our own decorations, though I am going to ask the ex to send me up my raggedy assed patch work angel that Chance and I have had for close to 15 years, that is unless he has tossed it, and we will decorate it up like polite society expects me to, so Stevie will be happy. I am going to do the best to make sure they have some good things to enjoy under the tree, but fucking hell, as usual money is tight. I will get what I normally get...nada, and I am okay with that. If I get some time to write or read or listen to my music without that crap son calls music overriding it, I will be tickled pink, but mainly I will be happy to see all this mess behind me again until next year.

It dawned on me the other day that what would have been your 65th birthday is coming up on Dec 21st! Holy Hell, Rog. I can imagine what you would be like at 65, still that presence that gets the attention of everybody in the room we would walk into, still as dynamic and charming as ever. Probably traveling all over the place and making fantastic art. You would have been such a fantastic role model for Chance, he really needs you. I know you would be proud of the two daughters you raised, even though they weren't yours by blood, they honor your name and memory, as do I. So many times people ask me that stupid assed question, "If you could have one more day with any person in your life, who would it be?" Its always you. I never got to tell you that you were my lifeline through the tough times. I would trade decades of my life for more time with you, for the opportunity to have had you guide my son and be involved in my kids lives. My son reminds me of you at times. He has that presence thing going on, people notice him and he has that moody artistic temperament that we were accused of having. He thinks he cant draw, but he is one of those annoyingly talented kids that excels at sports, and in fact he has been scouted and recruited by a high tone prep school that wants him to play for them. He can pick up damn near any musical instrument just by piddling around with it for a while, and he was a really good bag pipe player and violinist until he got bored with them and quit. He sings at the drop of the hat, and dances all over the damn place. I love that he is exuberant and feels free to express himself. His fashion sense gives me fits, and I have a bit of a hard time letting go of that sometimes,(a problem I know you would be sure to help me with, much like you did mom) but his isn't wanting mohawks and Doc Martens with chains like I did, he wants to dress in a way that sends off the wrong impression. I wish you were here to smack me upside the head and tell me to get over it. Im alone. I hate that because this solo parenting of a teen boy shit is complicated. When you were around I didn't feel like I was alone, even if you were across the world, you would always seem to know when I needed a call to save me from my own personal brand of misery.

I spend a lot of time walking around up here listening to music and thinking about things. My counselor back in Flag would have approved of the fact that I am actually going outside and sort of interacting with the world now. I do talk to people on occasion in real life, but actual human contact is still pretty limited. Did you know I have not had a non-family hug in so long that I am actually kinda a little afraid of how I would react. Physical contact with a man has been even more scarce though I long for it with the burning want of 10million white hot suns, its gotten so bad that I even flirt with my young, gay neighbor pretty shamelessly just to see him blush and half in the hopes I might turn him.

I think we will celebrate your birthday this year by going out for Japanese food. I will introduce Chance to sushi and saki and I will tell him stories about the time you got that pinto up to 85 on Old Spanish Trail with me giggling like a fiend in the passenger seat and swearing I wouldnt tell grandma. I hope you will join us. I miss you soo damn much.

Tom Waits - The long way home

Dear Roger:I Tend To Wander On The Low SIde Of The Road

Wow,its been awhile hasn't it?I guess I wish I could say there has been a lot going on, but there hasn't been. I have just been fucking depressed and haven't really felt like writing as much. I get that way sometimes and I wallow in my misery by sitting out under the trees off my back deck, staring at the cars driving by on the road,smoking cigarretts until one of the kids demands I come in and pay attention to them.

I dont know why things started bugging me, perhaps it was all the horror movies,perhaps it was just too much time on my hands to think about all the things that I have done, the past and all the things that I have seen, but I started considering the fact that I have seen and handled horrors that most normal people cannot begin to comprehend. I am not normal, not by a long shot. I never have been. I have always been drawn to the dark and the grotesque, the freak shows and horror movies and things that would send normal people scurrying away in terror. I sought out and read dark things, hell, I have even written them.

I know things that most people do not know,like what a decomposed body really smells like, the sound a bloated body makes when it hits the ground after you cut it out of a tree, the feel of brains under your fingers, or how much pressure you have to use to puncture the vitreous humor of an eye to get the fluid.I have seen death in so many forms...accidental,planned,intentional,murder,natural and the looks on the faces of each and every one of the dead is still with me, especially the children. I cannot close my eyes at night without seeing each and every child I have ever picked up off the side of the road or out of their parents arms or off of some filthy floor. I can still feel the weight of their small bodies against me as I carried them to the body bags.

It bothers me that these memories stick with me clearer than some of my memories that I know would be happier. I have a hard time remembering many of the trips with my grandparents.Those were so long ago, but they were the bright spots of my youth. The one memory of a trip with them that does stand out is being in Whiteriver and seeing a native man fall out in front of a truck,that is very vivid in my mind.

I remember my father coming in and telling me that my very first crush had just been killed by a drunk driver.I even remember the smell on his clothes and how the house looked, where I was standing and how dark it was outside and that it rained for the entire next week. That memory is so strong it often haunts me at night, while the memory of his face and the times he spoke to me or I actually got to interact with him, are fading.

It seems that the memory of horror and fear has a very strong power to erase any of the happy memories that you might have. I know that I had some happy times with my eldest sons father, in fact the time we spent in L.A. was some of the happiest time in my life and I know that it must have been like a dream come true for me to have actually made it out there with a man who had actually been in movies and who knew his way around all the cool places I had only seen on tv,but almost all those memories were erased by the things he did to me later. All I remember when I see him in my memory is the shark like blank stare,the scalpel, the gun,his handcuffs, and that isolated little house he kept on the West Side with the deep hole in the back yard and the feel of his hands on my face. I still feel lucky to have escaped with my life and the scars and little glitches in my personality are a small price to pay.

The memories of my ex-husband are mostly of him with the straight razor to my throat and the look that was in his eyes...10 years and that is what I take away with me, the feel of a straight razor to my throat and the look of want in his eyes while my kids cried next to me on the bed. Fuuuck! is it any shock I have my days of down time?

I have been writing again, working on a novel for the Nainomo writing thingy and so far its progressing okay. I have also written a couple of songs, so I guess I am snapping out of it. A job change is in the works, the pet place is just not going to work out at all. Im tired of walking the 2.5 miles there only to be sent home because they cant find their asses with both hands and get me something to do.

You , Rog, are always strong in my memories...but the day you came to grandmas looking so tired and laid your head on her kitchen table and fell asleep is strongest in my memories because that is the day I knew our time was short. I miss you , I miss you soo much.

Fuzzy Monkeys

This is the biggest Jackson Rathbone fan alive. Dont let that cute lil smile fool you, touch the monkey or dis her monkey man and she will mess your butt up.

That monkey she has cuddled up to her?The monkey that I had to write a permission slip for so she could take it to school for picture day rather than deal with the trauma of a child that believed her monkey would be sad if he wasnt included? Thats her "Jackson" its been to 2 concerts and it goes to church with her,sleeps in her bed, and on all trips. There is a picture of her with the real deal and this goofy monkey. She loves them both. Family members have found out that its best not to ask if she loves Jackson more than them, she will answer honestly and they wont like her answer.

Small things work small miracles,shes a happy kid again. She smiles and laughs and demands to know when her 'Boy" is coming back for another show. I just smile and tell her that he is busy being working and she will see him when he gets back this way, but that she has to share him.Its not what she wants to hear,but she knows there are worse answers to things.

I will miss this age when she grows out of it, that sweet, innocent, first love when your hero is 10 ft tall and bullet -proof and can do no wrong, I wish she would remain this unjaded forever.I am doing my best to protect these fleeting days, I remember when I had a hero and I still cant stand to hear him spoken ill of, so I will give her this time to adore hers, its important.