Monday, June 14, 2004

Rosebud Tattoo tickled on my ankle.. (ugly entry--read at risk of pending visual sty!!!)

Divine irony or knee-clattering embarrassment? I just found cute Jenny-from-down-the-hall's VICTORIA SECRET catalougue mis-placed in my mail slot this morning. So now, what do I do?

"Yes, this is yours, I haven't read it or drooled over it or anything (don't think about page 32! don't think about page 32!)." She already thinks I'm kinda weird always walkin' around with a heap of books and Uncle Mike. Now I suppose I've just graduated from Weirdo to Pervo.


Family rifts run blood deep. I really love my family and wish I could rectify many of the mistakes and foibles I have made in the past in regards to my siblings. It's kind of sad in a way. The last thing I asked my Father before he died was for $150 so I could pay off the laptop I bought on the black market which had over 500 pages of my book on it and I'm still pissed about that. My sister had their own pricy instruments to serve as creative mediums and I didn't need a token of love as much as I longed for a ring-manager. Someone to slap my ass occasionally on my way back to the dugout and say, "Good job" even when I just struck out. Even when I swung the bat as hard as I fucking could and just couldn't make contact with the curve ball life hurtled at me from the mound. Sometimes I think that the job of a parent (maybe even the job of a god) is just to show belief in the creature you created, regardless of the creatures innate flaws.

Not that I totally blame my parents as much as I blame coifed or "contemporary" Christianity where the yin/yang of our collective subconious is filtered from the authorative din of the pulpit to the naive earlobes of the pews as HEAVEN/HELL, RIGHTEOUSNESS/EVIL HOLY/SINNER. My parents were both heavily schooled in the nazi-conservative James Dobson Focus on the Family cadre and to this day, I wonder how many lives--how many families-- James Dobson himself has marred? I'd be willing to bet my lifeworks that its somewhere in the tens of thousands. If he likes Jesus so much he should nail his own askance belief-system on a few wooden-vertical helixed planks so he can see just how UNFOUNDED his purported scriptural based belief system is and the psychological havoc it has spawned on young kids. Brilliant and burgeoning Young Minds.

The problem being firsthand is that, when a parent neglects to feed the child, the child learns how to hunt for food himself and will sometimes put things inside of his body for imminent nourishment that are not healthy.

Example: the last four years I've been seeing alot of older women. The avg. age would be somewhere between 38-42. Some were classy scholars, some bar whores. Mostly I have learned that sadness and lonliness is pretty much universal and that if your looking for longterm contentment between the thighs of another its very doubtful that you'll ever find it (although, being a lover, you strive to find this union, and harbor some sentiment of optismism that it exists--its what fueled you into a life of the arts in the first place...)

Anyway, I realized that perhaps the reason I was indulged and fascinated with the older sex was because, perhaps, I was still looking for something that my own mom should've given me. Looking back now (hindsight is ALWAYS 20-20) there were voids that needed to be filled that my parents filled with two sentences.

MOM: You've made bad choices.

DAD (God rest his soul): Do what Jesus wants you to do.


Sorry. I wanted to write about my sister but the sting of sentimentality and family histrionics is brick heavy and still very palpable. It hurts, but let me just say this before I re-cycle (haha-arya and D, 'nother 'cycle' pun) this blog. We, everything we are as human beings, is a sum total of all of our collective experiences reflected from the interior screen marooned in the confines our own skull. Walt Whitman posits this in his hymn " i am part of all of those I meet" Likewise, I think Joseph campbell says it best:

"Life is pain and life is suffering and life is emotional poverty but--Damnit kid, you're alive!!!!"

No matter what season, how high the hill or how abysmally deep the valley we have that inside of us; beckoning us to LIVE THE LIVES WE FEEL LEAD TO LEAD (that's lead-2-leed, phonetically)... and shit, sisters and friends, what a wonderful life it is!!!!!


daku said...

Yo David brother, I am with you. I am just beginning to deal with my family stuff. I admire your courage to write about it in the blog. I can't quite do it publicly. I can discuss on e-mail, but not on the web (fear). I think anger is good, anger is a part of it, if you can get angry, you're on the way to healing, you just can't get stuck in anger. You have to move on. I think right now I am stuck somewhere pre-anger. You say older women... I had a very long relationship with an older man. Talk about absent father.

David Von Behren said...

Thanks D, if you don't pour yourself out every now or then I think your skin begins to fester....ahh, families. I figured out blog is really short for public Bitch Log.....

arya said...

that is strange that we both blogged about families at the same time. do i just wear really red glasses or was i damn lucky? i think i was damn lucky, i could go on and on about my dad and i haven't even started talking about my mom yet. she is a living angel. i guess i feel kind of guilty for getting such a great deal in life but hopefully i can use what they gave me for good. maybe i've got it coming to me in the next world since i lucked out in this one.

David Von Behren said...

Think we're all equally blessed...I know I bitch all the time in the morning entires (if I don't it'll come out in my novels)but sometimes I don't think it matters where we come from as long as we know where we are going. I think, for all three of us, we are going somewhere good.