Dead Men Tell No Tales

I cannot conceive of people committing suicide.

I am completely and utterly unable to understand WHY someone would take their own life.

It does not compute.

I will give you my very unpopular opinion on suicide, then I will explore it with this blog to try & understand….

1) Suicide is the most selfish act a human can commit.

2) There is NO REASON to kill oneself

3) A person is always in control of themselves. They can change things at any time.

OK, that’s pretty much my opinion on suicide.

Do you know why people hang themselves, shoot themselves, cut their wrist, suck car exhaust or other ways?

To be found, discovered that way.

To hurt, shock, punish; to lash out one last time. A final “Look what you made me do” or “Fuck you”

See me…

See me…

I have no concept of suicide.

Admittedly, I do not refrain from killing myself because it is a sin, as much as I was raised to believe, I do not kill myself because I know….have known….all of my life that it is not an option.

I know that it is the cowards way out.

There is no excuse other than painful terminal illness and I’m gray on that.

There is always the next moment. There is always tomorrow. There is always rock bottom.

There is always hope.

Meaning, it can only get so bad. You can sink no lower than rock bottom. If you get any lower, it’s because you dug the hole yourself but, Dammit, there’s still a bottom

You can change things in an instant.

This is a fact.

There are too many avenues these days to get help for suicidal thoughts or intentions.

There is absolutely NO REASON TO KILL ONESELF.

I don’t care how bad your life feels like it’s spiraling out of control and the world would be a better place for it, if you would just hurry up and blow your fucking brains out all over the nice bathroom mirror.

I guarantee the fact that there are millions of other people on this planet that have it much worse; that would kill you to have your life, that would love to have your problems instead of theirs. Would call you blessed…. If even for a moment…they could be you.

There are people that fight for their life every day.

They fight through agonizing pain and the knowledge of unavoidable, inevitable, early death.

They fight until they quit breathing.

And some people kill themselves because life is too hard….?

They can’t see a way out.

There is no hope, they think.

There is no other way, they think.

It’s all about…..Them.

They’re positive.

Oh. My. God.

Fuck your family.

Fuck your friends.

Fuck your co-workers.

Fuck, the world.

My life is too painful.

Everyone will be better off when I’m gone.

I cannot understand this.

It’s stupid.

It’s illogical.

It goes against human nature.

Humans are the only species that commit suicide while every other species on this planet; plant or animal, fight for survival; actual survival, every moment of everyday.

But, your life is too painful to go on living?

Mental illness, you say?

My opinion is that suicide has nothing to do with mental illness.

I’m mentally ill….according to my doctors.

I have been diagnosed with depression, as anti-social and with borderline personality disorder.

Evidently, I am 2 clicks from being a sociopath.

I have the papers to prove it.

I have lived in the gutter.

I was a stereotypical trench coat wearing, brown bag guzzling, sidewalk stumbling drunk.

I was homeless.

I dug thru trash bins behind food joints looking for something to eat.

For a long time, the only money I had was from donating plasma.

I rode city buses for hours; riding for days on end because I felt I had nothing else to do or anywhere to go.

I felt useless. I felt worthless.

I wanted to kill myself.

But, I didn’t.

……I wouldn’t.

It wasn’t an option.

I’m not going to do it.

Anthony Bourdain, did.

I am/was/are a huge fan.

As long as I have his audiobooks, which he narrated himself, his series’ on Netflix, videos on YouTube and many other outlets of which I haven’t discovered yet, I will always be a fan.

He chose to end his life.

From my eyes, A man beloved by millions, a man with a cult following, an excellent TV gig, an employer, a recovered addict, a chef, a father….

Hangs himself in a French hotel room.


I cannot understand this.

“I am alone in a room full of people.”

There is only one way out.

It breaks my heart about Anthony.

Here was a guy I actually looked forward to watching his stuff on TV; reading his books, following him on social media.

I have (had) 2 TV heroes that I wholeheartedly believed in 100%; in their honesty, their quirkiness, their irreverence towards “The Man” and no BS attitude.

One is Mike Rowe, the other is/was Anthony Bourdain.

When I saw anything they were involved with, everything they said or posted, I believed. I knew it would be honest and real.

But, I am also a realist.

I do believe that you can never know what’s in someone else’s mind.

You cannot see the monsters.

You cannot hear the voices.

You cannot feel their pain.

As much as I cannot fathom the prospect of killing myself or why anyone would do that to themselves and put their friends, family and colleagues through so much anguish, I understand that I am not that person.

I know that these individuals leave behind people close to them, that love them asking “Why?”

“Why didn’t he call me?”

“Why didn’t he tell me what he was feeling?”

“I would’ve been there in a flash, if I’d ONLY KNOWN

Anthony Bourdain was not alone in France.

His best friend was nearby.

A hotel full of people, were there.

As far as I know, he still has relatives in France.

All he had to do was say “Help me”


It makes me sad for his daughter, whom he claimed to love and cherish.

It makes me sad for his friend Eric; the best friend that found him dead.

It makes me sad for his friends and family that Anthony believed that he had no alternative but to kill himself.

“Why didn’t he just call me?”

It makes me angry that he was so selfish.

He only cared about himself.

No regard or thoughts of what he would leave behind.

No qualms of guilt in how his death would affect others.

No concern on leaving an 11 year old girl to face this cruel world without her dad.

How can I say these mean things about Anthony Bourdain?

I do not, did not, could not know the man or his problems.

What I do know is that he killed himself.

Which means, he did not give a FUCK about anyone else but Anthony Bourdain.

Suicide is real.

Suicide is terrible.

Suicide is selfish.

Suicide is the cowards way out.

There is always hope.

There is always tomorrow.

There is ALWAYS help….

Don’t be an asshole.

Stay alive.

Anthony Bourdain


You cheated us out of you…

Get Help

Yesterday, When I Was Young

Who am I to judge,  now that I’m a crotchety old bastard with years of experience in treacherous human existence to apply toward the categorization, comparison and evaluation of my fellow man?


Why do I make assumptions, when my opinion doesn’t really mean anything, except to me and the emission of CO2 into the atmosphere, thus further damaging the ozone and the feelings of polite society?

Why am I brainwashed by the brainwashed, why must I reap what others have sown; am I a knowing, paying, thankful consumer of obviously, historical tainted goods?

I am a sheep and I give thanks…

Why am I a flawed man that must reap those poisoned fields of the earlier stewards of land, language and lies?

I don’t understand said the led, restrained horse that wouldn’t, couldn’t drink the water…right up to the point he almost died of thirst….

But, he did drink.

Why couldn’t I just be 8 years old for the rest of my life?

I didn’t know about hate, except in the form of tomatoes and buttermilk.

I didn’t know about fashion, except that I never wore shoes that much anyways.

I didn’t know about politics except that George Washington was first and Lincoln was second.

I didn’t know about mistrust except if it had to do with Yankees and niggers…

I didn’t even know that the sun could give you cancer but, I did know that girls had cooties.

All us boys knew that!

When I was 8, I knew my
Granny loved me and my mom was on dope.


When I was 8, I always wanted someone to play with so bad that I kept playing with the 13 year old boy that kept raping me.

When I was 8, I knew not to make my daddy mad.
He would hit me….a lot.

When I was 8, I believed in Santa Claus and Christmas magic.
I didn’t care about Jesus that much, only a bb gun I wanted.

Besides, I knew Jesus loved me; the Bible told me so, this I know….

When I was 8, I knew the Easter bunny and Tooth fairy weren’t real but, I always kept hoping for Peeps and shiny dollars.

I caught frogs, blew up ant beds, picked plums and blackberries, walked barefoot thru mud and briars…


I read about Uncle Remus and Brer Rabbit, Jack London and Buck. I read and dreamed about “My Side Of The Mountain…”

I dreamed about a home where your parents didn’t count the slices of lunch meat and mark the level in the milk jug….so they’d know if you’re a thief.

I dreamed about being Superman and a Johnny Reb.

I protected my home from  northern aggression for years but, they never came.

I dreamed about no more yelling and slapping.

I hoped Granny still had biscuits left over from breakfast.

I hoped I didn’t have to fill the water for the hogs that much today.

I hoped I could steal some change and ride my bike to the store and get a moon pie and a Coke.

I hoped mama wouldn’t notice the milk was a little weak…

Daddy didn’t worry about counting his Baloney slices. He knew I knew better.

When I was 8, I chased lightning bugs and slaughtered them by the thousands…

When I was 8, I could bait my own hook and lie about how big the fish was that got away.

When I was 8, I could lie about anything.
Telling the truth did not go rewarded.

Lying saved me lots of pain.
If it’s done right and points to other people…

Hey, I was 8.
I didn’t like bleeding.

When I was 8, I thought my name was “Stupid” or “Son of a bitch”

Granny called me “Punkin” or “Sugar”

When I was 8, I believed in Jesus but, I still flinched when someone moved too fast.

When I was 8, I believed in Jesus but, he never really saved me in this really, real world.

I hope his promise comes true when I’m dead because if it ain’t, I just went thru all that shit for nothing.

” But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.”

When I was 8 years old, that verse was pretty.


Now that I’m almost 51, I’m freaking counting on it.

Over-all and roundabout I’d say I had a typical childhood.

I guess that’s pretty sad, if you can describe your childhood as typical…

I didn’t know I had it better off than millions of others, I was 8!

I didn’t know what guilt was, except when dad said it was all our fault that he was poor.

One good thing though…
Jesus taught me about forgiveness.

It works….if you believe in that kind of thing.

I Want To Die

Like, in 50 more years….

Blogger disclaimer:

No, I’m not gonna kill myself.

Just heard about another lost soul…. I guess it was dark where they lived.

Yes, I think suicide is the ultimate selfish act.

I pity the family of the quitter.

It kills more than one person….

Trust me when I say this; maybe you can relate more than I know.

There is always a way out of the abyss…

It has happened to my family.

It’s always the one person you never would have guessed….

Yes, I realize that some people are lost and see no other way out; no other way to stop the pain.

Yes, I pity them but, not the way you’d think.

I’ll keep that thought private for now.

No, I do not agree with them.

Yes, dead is dead.

Here is a fictional suicide note.


Read it carefully and tell me what you see.

“To whom it doesn’t concern”

I can’t take it anymore, lmfao…..

Everything is going crazy and it’s just more than I can stand, more than I want to stand.

I don’t have any energy. My life is draining away by the day. I don’t want to get out of the bed most days. It takes a mental Olympic feat to even eat anything.

No one understands what I’m going thru or seems to even care. Everything that goes wrong in my family always gets blamed on me. I can’t do anything right.

No matter how hard I try, nothing is good enough.

I get so sick and tired of never being good enough for anybody, no matter how hard I try, how much I sacrifice, no matter how much it takes out of me, no matter how much I have to give up; no matter what I try to do, no one gives a crap how all this affects me or what I go thru in order to meet their lofty, impossibly high expectations of me.

I don’t get it….

I don’t think anyone gives a shit about me or what I care about.

Yeah, I’ve had my struggles and issues lately but, nobody’s perfect, nobody has the right to point fingers at me without walking in my shoes and knowing what I have to sacrifice or what I go thru everyday to be “good” enough to be in this family!

I wish they’d try to understand my pain and cut me a break. I can only do so much.

But, I’m not even gonna try anymore. I am so tired and exhausted of constant, never ending bullshit.

This fucking world is a bunch of bullshit. People always fucking with you and cutting your balls off. Never giving a guy a chance to better himself and fix his problems. Always, ALWAYS! Fucking with me! It never fucking stops!

None of these fuckers in my, so called, “family” give a shit about me. They don’t care what I go thru or what I want or how hard I try to do better.

I’m sick of their shit, I’m sick of my wife, I’m sick of my fucking ungrateful kids, I’m sick of my fuck stick, boss….

Fucking niggers and Mexicans are getting all my jobs. Mother fuckers are everywhere, like fucking roaches!

Fuck God, fuck Jesus, fuck the mother fucking Holy Ghost!

Who believes in that shit anymore, anyways!? Mother fuckers ain’t never done shit for me! Fuck’em all!

Nobody cares what I put up with or what I go thru. Fuck them, too!

So tired of all this shit and not getting a break. So fucking tired…

G*damn bill collecting vultures! They don’t give a shit if you’re out of work or what…

I can’t help my boss was a prick and fired me for missing a couple of hours and coming in late. I know I smelled like beer but that was from the night before.


I was perfectly sober that morning, he don’t care that sometimes a few beers takes my mind off things. It helps me forget about my problems and how everybody is fucking me! It was on my own time….

Well, whoever finds me and this note, tell everyone in my family to kiss my fucking ass! How do you like this shit!?

I can’t believe I let them push me this far… 

I should kill them mother fuckers….thatd solve a lot of shit!


Goodbye, Mom… I’m sorry.

[Trigger Clicks!]

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!

I swear to God!!

I can’t catch a fucking break!!

(Throws gun against the wall. It discharges and hits him in the arm)

“Hellpppp MEEEEE!!”

Just Biding My Time

“Life is something to do while I’m waiting to die…”
– Treyzguy 2015

The day I was born I thought, “So what do I do now?”

I knew before I got here that my time down here on this terrestrial plane was going to be limited.

I accepted that fact, believing in my pre-mortal ignorance “How hard could it be?”

I mean, I’d been here forever.

I’d survived creation, Lucifers little rebellion, y’alls creation, what you guys call “the Flood”…

All kinds of stuff, I’ve seen; both here and there; stuff y’all haven’t done, what “HE” hasn’t done, what we’ve all done….

Yes, I include myself, I’m not placing all the blame on y’all; because I’ve been a man down here amongst y’all myself for the past 50 years, and like y’all I’ve  had my share of failures and triumphs also, as hollow and trivial as it all seems, now that I look back on it.


I can’t really say that I’ve enjoyed my time while I’ve been here.

In all honesty, if I’d known what it was actually gonna be like when I got here, I’d have never come.

I’d be like “Uh, kiss my angelic ass, I ain’t goin’ down there with all that crazy shit”

I’d much rather go back to the olden days and fight Lucifer and his bunch armed with swords and ending it once and for all than coming down here and having to deal with him every fucking minute, armed only with my free will and my conscience?

That’s just crazy talk!

Ha… Free will…
Ain’t nothin’ free people.
Y’all taught me that.

I’m not gonna drag out this tirade of mine too long today because I get tired of listening to myself bitch and knowing that no one is listening and no one gives a shit anyway…

It’s pointless to bitch….

Oh, it makes me feel better I guess but that’s not the intent, is it?

Bitchings’ main purpose in life is to be heard and appreciated, ain’t it?

There is absolutely nothing you, me, we, can do about it.

Praying is talking to yourself….

Humility is embarrassing and overrated…and makes people want to beat your ass….

Charity is weakness, and the death of humility, since when a person does something nice they want to be, or like to be, acknowledged as selfless, caring and a good person…

Nothing wrong with that…
Don’t lie… It’s a human thing.

But, charity availeth no man…

Doesn’t it seem like humility is the ultimate singular oxymoron and a mind boggling, non-sensical analogy for praise?

Plus, it’s one of the few words I know of, maybe the only word, that has a meaning, a description, examples…..and it doesn’t exist…can’t exist….not down here.

How can you say you’re humble without not being humble…?

See that’s the kinda conundrum bullshit I agreed to deal with when I “volunteered” to come down here and be all…….human.

If I’d only known….


But, I know now, don’t I?

I swear to God that’s why God made suicide and murder a sin.

We’d all be killing ourselves and others as a kindness to get the hell outta here!


I know… I’m sorry…

Not really.

Most of this world and the people in it have driven me to this despair.

Life is what you make it…

Kiss my ass…

My mortal dad always said “There’s only one ass that the undertaker stuffs with cotton when you die and that’s the only one you should worry about”

We never had a chance coming down here….

There’s too many of us with too much free will, too little patience, virtually no guidance and way too little culpability.

It’s a tragedy, ain’t it?

We come into this world all pink and shiny but go out of it grey and cold.

Life is something we do while we’re waiting to die…

My death is the only thing in my life I can count on that is real and will last forever.

No, I don’t wanna die yet. I’m too scared and I can’t remember what it was like there, before.

My faith died the first time God didn’t punish the boy that raped me….

I prayed for it, but…..

No justice for the scared little mortal boy that had once been a great warrior in the Battle of Heaven.

I could fight off the ranks of Lucifers host but not a 13 year old pervert….

Ironic….aint it?

I’m wondering, now, if we all came down here because it was bad there….


War in heaven, War here….

Life has been a waste of my time and energy.

I should have kept my mouth shut and my wings spread…


If I ever get back to heaven I will NEVER EVER volunteer for anything again! I SWEAR TO GOD AND ALL THAT’S HOLY!!

Life is what you make it.

True….but the deck was stacked against us, right from the get go.

Unfortunately, there were other people here, too.

And you can’t count on any of them.

There is such things as self interest, self preservation…. Self.

I never had a chance….

One against billions with the same idea….

To, survive.

But, that’s just me.

Maybe y’all can do better.

I hope so.

Maybe we’ll run into each other on the other side.

I hope so.


I am tired of accepting my life, as it is.20131012_150012-picsay

I have little to complain about.

I am like most people, I guess.

The only thing is… that I’m not happy.

I’m not satisfied.

I am unfulfilled.

It’s not about my marriage or anything like that….

It’s just……


I don’t care about being rich.

I’ve had a taste of wealth and yes, it was fleeting and terrible.

You know something; and I haven’t told anyone this until now but, I actually called a monastery a short while back and inquired on the possibility of me volunteering for a year, to live there, meditate, rest, be away from the world….

And I’m married!!! And have a job! I was just gonna go, disappear for a year, run off to a monk retreat….even thought about hiking the Appalachian Trail, for hells sake!

The only catch to living with the friars was that I had to be a Catholic.

I don’t have a problem with Catholics but, that was kind of impossible.

downloadwbnfowugYou see…I’m a Mormon.

I’m a terrible Mormon but, there ya go.

Did you know that my dream job is to be the director of a homeless shelter or a soup kitchen?

I coulda been uh contenduh….

Ever since I joined the LDS Church at 19 years old, on August 11, 1984; it has been a disaster.

All. My. Fault.

Nothing to do with the church, mind you.

They’ve kept me alive……

I bloomed from a fledgling alcoholic to a full grown lush.

I went from a dabbler of mind altering substances to the most dedicated of researchers and travelers.

I went from being a married man, a police officer, a college student, a father…….to…..


I lost it all.

I was lost.

I was homelesss.

I slept in shelters, trash bins, deserted boats, abandoned cars, baseball dugouts….and I’ve dug thru dumpsters behind Pizza Hut and Subway…

I donated plasma for money.

$25 a pop, twice a week.

I walked and walked and walked and walked around the city of Salt Lake City because I had no where else to go.

I walked around the LDS Church head quarters.

images (19)I stood by the grave of Brigham Young.

I sat in the LDS Geneology Library for hours and hours; because I had no where else to go.

I walked and walked and walked and walked thru the LDS Historical Museum for hours, days, weeks, months….

….because I had no where else to go.

I walked thru the Temple grounds.temple

I walked up to the LDS Temple and put my hand on the cold, strong, hand-cut granite stones.

….trying to feel……..something………….anything.

I have stood there by the mirror pool and cried like a baby because I had no where else to go.

I sat watching movies in the Temple visitors theatre and cried in the dark because I had no where else to go.

So lost…..

….right there, next to the Temple of the Lord………no one heard the wailing man.

No one that walked by me knew what was going on in my mind and heart.

No one that saw me sitting by a tree next to that pioneer hand-made, beautiful Temple that I was in my own self-made torment.

I was living in a personal hell on consecrated ground.

No one knew.10592739_309434649228541_4702930826788118450_n

I didn’t even know what was happening to me….it was just a spiral…..down, down….down…..

Tomorrow….I have decided that I will be a different man.

I keep thinking that something is wrong with me…in my head, I mean.

I don’t know if it’s an insecurity thing, a child abuse thing, a learned trait, or an honest character flaw.

I’m wishy washy, I have a small attention span unless it’s writing or drawing.

I lose interest in things quickly, unless it’s writing or drawing.

I do have a conscience.

I do follow rules and respect the law.

I hold open doors for old ladies and I am kind of a racist.

I have taken crazy medicine.

They did not work; matter of fact, they made me worse.

I tried to kill myself 3 times… a month.20131105_214200b-picsay

I remember one time I was still popping pills in the emergency room when the nurse went out to get something. There I was getting my stomach pumped, lips black with charcoal stuff they make you swallow when you OD, and I’m still swallowing pills…..

It scares me when I think about it too much, now.

I can tell you this.

I wasn’t thinking about nobody else but me.


I can also say this….

If suicide wasn’t a sin…….I’d be pushing up daisies and clover at this very minute.

I didn’t think about my kids, my mom, my dad, my family….nobody…….just me.

I wanted out, I HAD to get out…

Not one person or their feelings popped into my head at that moment.

….only panic.

The ER people were trying to stop me….

They did.

I didn’t see a light.wpid-20140923_204744-picsay.jpg

I didn’t feel the love of Jesus.

I didn’t feel the Holy Ghost.

All I felt was urine…..charcoal……vomit……nothing.

…..I wanted to die that night because I had no where else to go.

My church is why I’m alive.

For some reason, in the last week, something has changed in my head.

I feel….quieter.

I feel….something.

I was trying to think of a word to describe it but…..I can’t.

Maybe…..”an even keel” is kinda close.

I want to feel God, if he is there.

I know he is, I’m just a terrible kid.

I don’t need miracles…

My being alive at 50 years old, married, having a job and writing is a miracle.

I know, all too well….

I coulda been dead. I shoulda been dead. I was almost dead…..

Well, I was walking dead anyway but, if those doctors and nurses hadn’t stopped me I would have been “really, real” dead.

I don’t know why my life has been how it’s

I don’t know why I had to go thru the things that I have gone thru.

I don’t know why I have done some of the things that I have done.

I’m starting to forget stuff…..

I mean, the scary kind of “forget stuff”.

I think I’m gonna change things.

I think I’m gonna put my interest and commitment into a more “profitable” line of pursuits.

I gotta get real.

I think I’m losing my mind.

I gotta get things in order before I go….out yonder.

I believe there is something wrong with my mind.

I think all of these prolific explosions of blogs and stories that I have cranked out in the past year and a half is like unto a dying star.

A flash…..then………………..nothing.angel6

I…..don’t know why I’m rambling so bad tonight.

I’m usually not this introspective.

I just like putting my feelings out there for strangers to read about.

I just felt like I had to tell people, probably kind of like a “stamp of approval” that I’m gonna change some intricate parts of myself.

I just like coming and writing on my blog.

It helps.

………………………………….because I had no where else to go.

Wow…..would you look at that…..

It’s raining………




















Reflections Of A Monster: In Shadow

My life with ruin that began in light…

I had an unobstructed view down the road.

No need for direction…

It’s  all so exciting when you know where you’re going.


There ARE monsters, that eat children.

If I had only known there were shadows…

I never would have stopped and looked back.

So, instead of moving on, straight and narrow….

I took the short, smooth road to hell…

It looked familiar; all pain and rage.


I don’t remember living there.

I can’t recall passing thru.

But…. I know I’ve been there.

This is where the monsters live.

Know what I mean?

This place in hell is where I learned that big people make you cry and run…

A tortured child has many shields.

If I had only known there were shadows…


The sun in my face, a shadow at my back…

My shadow is heavy and dark and it screams in the light.

“Turn around and face me” it says.

“No; I can’t… I mustn’t” I plead in a child’s voice; all terror and shrieks.

On my way to hell, I turned from the light and took my eyes off the road ahead; so wide and bright, straight as a horizon.


I am lost in my shadows.

I have gone back from whence I have come; retracing old steps and stumbles.

Stepping over nightmares, wallowing in misery.

Did you know the road to hell is not paved with good intentions, like they say?

It’s paved with woe

It’s paved with pain.

It’s paved with child rape.

It’s bathed in shadows that dance and tear….

Monsters live in me…

If only I had known there were shadows behind me, I never would have stopped and looked back….

My shadow is the reflection of me without light; only form and no substance.

Unless you count fear as something real.

It is cold inside a child’s scream.

A child screaming from hell; that sounds just like me.

A scream that echoes thru the years and drives me from the light; still to this hour.

Into the shadows…

If only I had known there were shadows behind me, I never would have stopped and looked back….

To see who was screaming….

Shadow spills heavy, from light; a dread chain of sorrow


If only I had known there were shadows…

I never would have stayed….

and became a monster, myself.

Afraid of the dark and shadows

…. smiling faces that lie and bite.

A Matter Of Fact

You look lost.


No, just looking around.

Not trying to be nosey but, you looking for anything particular?

No, not really… Well…

Well, what?

You’ll think I’m being stupid.

Hell, everyone is stupid now and again.

I make it an art form.


Tell me…

Don’t laugh….

I haven’t laughed in a long time. Well, I mean; at least not in a humorous way. I tend to find irony and ignorance  more fucking hilarious than anything!

I’m about as ignorant as they come.

I’m older than you thus, I have been ignorant longer and with greater zeal.

Well, I am newly ignorant, which is way worse. Even after all the old people made mistakes and we seen it happen, we still do the same damn things.
The only things that actually change is the levels of tolerance and consequences
Tolerance goes up, consequences go down. .

Good point; Now, tell me, what are you looking for?

[outstretched palms]

Why I’m here….
What is the point of life?
Why life is full of struggles and pain.
What life-long friends have I made?
Do I, will I or can I ever hope to make a difference in anything?
What happens after I die, will I go to heaven… Will I burn in hell?
Is there a heaven, is there a hell?
So many answers I’m looking for…

[chin rubbing]

What does it matter?

What? How do you mean?

All the questions that you have… What does it matter?

I don’t understand what you’re saying.

You see!? I find that hilarious!

I don’t see why it’s so funny! These are real questions I have! I freaking worry about it; if I’m a good man, a good husband or dad, if I’m making people’s lives better…stuff like that.

You’re doing it to yourself.

[kicking at the dirt]


You’re creating your own questions at triple the rate, NO! a hundred times the rate, that you can even hope or fantasize to find an answer! Why can’t such a prolific question maker, such as yourself, comprehend the fact that there is, has and NEVER WILL be an answer to or for anything…. Ever.


[serious, furrowed brow]

Those do not require answers. They and their like are certainties.

Isn’t a certainty an answer?

Nope. A certainty is known. An answer is fiction awaiting a cliff hanger ending.
…. You never really find out if it was the Butler or not but; no real evidence, only choice.
I mean…. think about it for a sec; Think of a question, here’s one; What is the capitol of Texas?

[glazed eyes]

Is Austin the answer or a certainty? Can an answer be a fact?

You’re losing me…

Why do you think there are phrases and words, such as; because… Whatever… In a minute…I don’t know or I give up?

I…. Don’t know…. I give up…

[shagrinning smart-ass]

“Because” there is no such thing as an answer…. TO ANYTHING.

I can’t….wont believe that. It’s impossible.

There is only certainty, unknown and ignorance…. The bastard child of the two.

Okay, great thinker, I see what you’re saying… Kinda.

There’s only one true certainty in this perceived reality that man can control to be painfully honest with you.

What’s that?

Free will….

Hmmm… Free will, you say.

Yep. Shakespeare had it right when he came up with “To be or not to be”. You notice that it is two questions and no answer. It is a choice, an unknown.

You’ve definitely given me food for thought. I’m not that deep of a thinker…

Your questions made me think as I was explaining them… Like you said earlier, does any of this really matter, I mean… anything?

I have to believe it does. It must.

Why? Why worry about it at all? How could any of this matter?!

Because, it matters to me that it matters to you.

To be or not to be….

That… Is the answer.

I’m certain of it….

A Step

I’m's fear


I’ve missed a step and lost my balance.

You have to look where you’re going a little better.

It’s dark here….hard to see very far.

Put your hands out in front of you and walk towards my voice.

What if I trip again?

I can see you just fine; now, walk….

I’m scared of the dark [nervous giggle]

I’m here, I can see you….almost there.

Where are you?

Just a little further…

I can’t! It’s too dark!

You let me worry about the dark; you just worry about not stumbling.

I think I’m getting used to the dark, I think I can see you.

No, dark is dark. You’re just getting braver.

Is that your hand?hands


Wow, I made it. I thought I was going to fall again.

You worried more about falling than seeing.

Like I said, it’s dark.

Then open your eyes.

Who are you?

I am you, in a better light.

I found you.images

Always been here….

I did it.

Yes, we did.

How much longer until there’s more light?

A step.

Drama King

Laying it on thick:

My wife does not love me


Sheila uses me…. Sexually…

She calls me names and spits in my food…

She hates me

She pushed me down the steps at church, once…

She makes me live alone in this lonely truck so I decided to kill myself in my loneliness for being so alone.

I am so lonely that I must look in my little mirror if I don’t want to be alone.

I was so handsome before the loneliness…

She drives by graveyards and says “That’s a nice cemetery”


So lonely…. So lonely….

Aloneness is so lonely, in this lonely truck.

She would know my aloneness if she didn’t leave me alone in my lonely truck with my little mirror.

She throws rocks at me sometimes.

But she don’t care….

She wants me to die all alone.

She hit me with a stick, once…

She said I couldn’t get any chickens.

Chickens get lonely too…


I saw her kick a child, once….And steal his lunch money…

Poor lonely chickens.

I am a lonely chicken.

She hates chickens.

My wife only likes pork chops.

I saw her trip an old man, once…

He was lonely too.

I don’t like pork chops because they aren’t lonely.
….. Like me.

I am a lonely pork chop that has no friends.

My wife won’t let me have any friends.

She says chickens can’t be friends

I saw her eat a chicken once…

imageChicken Killer

She says she’ll eat my chicken friends.

I don’t wanna be a friendly pork chop that’s lonely….

She is a mean wife.

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