Monthly Archives: July 2006


I am so sorry, that I did not want to see your face,

I was in such a good place,

And I will not let you take me back there,

To that bad place,

So many things to face,

From you,

So allow me to refrain, from being there,

I am aware,

You do not care,

If I am there, or not there,

I can see that,

I can accept that,

I am just fine.

Did I tell you I laughed tonight?

Did I tell you why?


Then I will not tell you,

But when I finally saw, I laughed so loud.

Call me shallow, call me superficial,

Call me what you will,

It still made me laugh,

Does that bother you?

You have no idea how much it used to bother me,

But no more, why is that?

Tell me why that is.

Because, I know,

Deep down, far down,

You still yearn for a feeling,

That cannot be found in that place,

So I laugh,

And there is little humor in it,

Because I am sorry for me,

And I am sorry for you.




An Ode

I had a lot to think about this weekend.

I thought about people that I admire, and I surprised myself, by the realization that I admire someone very much that I never thought about so much.

This woman was a champ, a hero, someone who took vows and understood exactly what she said.  Oh, I have no doubt that she could have run away at the first sign of adversity, or years later when things got really heavy, and really taxing, and really difficult.

A woman who kept her promise until the very end, the bitter end. 

I have so much respect for this woman, I am actually going to call her and tell her so as soon as I can.  She will no doubt be surprised, at least I think she will, it’s just that I never understood anything like I do now.  What a strong and honest woman.  It is so easy to just give up and stop working at something, I am sure she could have countless times, I am sure she had many options, many men waiting to flatter her, and tell her that her promises stopped the minute things got too difficult to handle.  Whatever the case was, she did not fall victim to lies and wrongness, she stayed true.  I can only wish that I had someone like that to stand by my side.

You never knew it, but secretly, I held you in the highest esteem, I say secretly only because I never spoke of this to her while we interacted, and perhaps I never will.

Any man would be lucky to have had a woman like you, and any woman who ever wishes to enter into the state of matrimony would do well to study your life, for you are a shining example of what it means to enter into a lifelong partnership, you are perserverance beyond reckoning, you have the right to spit in the face of every woman who has ever had a petty complaint, who has ever decided that pride was a valid reason to divide a union of souls.  Every woman who has thought she had more than she could bear can only stare in silence at you, awed, and unable to even find a reason for their lack of commitment.

You, Jean Fischer, stand above and beyond all of that.

They do not make wives like that anymore, they do not make women like that anymore.  I think about your life, and especially now, I am floored, how much therapy did you need?  How much doubt did you have?  These days, with this generation, I am sure the answer would have been many, but you quietly lived with dignity, and did what you said you were going to do.

My respect for that woman knows no bounds. 

Jean Fischer, your dedication did not go un-noticed.  If I should ever meet someone who I knew was just like that, I would waste no time and marry her immediately, for that is a woman easily worth spending the rest of your days with.  This is how I want to be, this is the ideal I will hold myself to.  Your life meant something to me, I just never knew how much until now.

I will give no details, except to say that any other person would have run for their wretched lives faced with such adversity.

You taught me a lesson that will stay with me as long as I live.

Thank you Jean.

Phillips head.

Here is something that perhaps many of you will find useful.  I somehow feel as if I am putting a glock in the hands of all of my readers, but I am feeling reckless tonight, so pay attention.

For those who do not subscribe to things that seem superstitious in nature, know that I am a skeptic, sans par.  But I think we can all agree on a few basic tenets.  One, words have power, words can move nations, destroy, create, make love, hate, war, and peace.  Words are power.

Emotions are power as well, when a person is filled with emotion, they project this, you can feel anger, you can feel hatred, just as you can feel love, and empathy.  Now, here is the trick my friends, combine the two, and see what you get. 

Remember, there are small instruments, large instruments, useful instruments, and useless ones as well.  Words are no different, a master scribe can weave words, that one with skill and emotional content can use for many things.  Call it your subconcious, call it your god, call it your ancestors, if you cook with fire, you will be fed.

So, here is a loaded weapon, use it for good, use it for evil, do what you wish, but do it the right way, or else you will waste your breath.


(Hum, mouth open, breathing out first)

Hear my heart, as it is beating,

Hear my lungs as they are breathing,

Feel my life, as it is fleeting,

I am humble, I am small,

With your help I will stand tall,

Fill me up inside with power,

My thoughts are gardens that will flower.

Let me see what is inside,

Unleash my will, appear outside.

(Breathe out slow, and use that imagination).


Rinse, repeat, laugh loud and laugh last.

Wiccan rules are for pussies, Do what thou wilt.

Black and White.

So, for once in my life, I do not feel guilty.

Not anymore, I am pretty secure in the fact that at this point, I have done everything in my power to do the right thing.  I guess I just finally grew up in that respect.  I will be able to look my boys in the face, years down the road, and confidently tell them that I had done everything I could to try and be a father to them.  Lets face it, little boys need their daddies more than anything else.  I will be so sad, I am so sad.  But at least I can hold my head up high, and say that I put them first.

I really beat myself up for a long time, about this anyway.  I realize now, that it takes a big person to admit they were wrong about something so huge, and I realized shortly afterwards, it takes an even bigger person to understand that.

I know something about myself, I like when things are clear.  Black and white, but I can see the grey too.  It feels good to be the good guy.  It’s pretty clear.

Well, I’m still sad and disappointed, so in the end, I guess being the good guy isn’t all its cracked up to be.



Good day!

Imagine that, so happy to be rid of me that I get a good day, hooray!

Well, that makes me sure that I have made the right choice as well,

Ironic, isn’t it?

The only thing worse than not giving a shit, it pretending you give a shit when you really don’t.  If you don’t, then don’t, but acting like it is so important to have me around, and then happily dismissing me is a roundhouse sucker-punch.  It’s ok, though, it’s ok, see, I saw that one coming, which is why I stayed the course.  We all have choices to make in this life, whats for lunch, what to wear that day, things like that.  I was not aware, however, that who you love, was as easy as putting on a pair of pants, but isn’t that funny, you learn something new everyday.

See, apparently, you can say whatever you want to a person, deep, shallow, whatever, and then throw it out your window like a used condom. 

Tobas fun fact #5

People are disposable.  No matter how long, or how far, or what a person has endured for another, being fed up is perfectly acceptable criteria to watch them writhe in agony while standing there emotionless.  When someone, is too crazy, or too angry, or something about them does not suit you, it is perfect grounds to push them away without another thought.  Now, bear in mind good people, it does not matter who will suffer as a result, what is really important, is your own personal happiness.  I love to learn things.  Ah, as they say in bad old kung-fu pictures, ‘now student, become teacher’.  Now does anyone really have to wonder why it is so easy to lose the will to live?  This is a hopeless thing, if you can go that far, do that much, and make the deepest commitment to another person you can make, and then be told, ‘thanks, but that didn’t mean shit’, well, the future looks pretty damn grim after that.

All this fuss about not seeing the kids anymore, yes well, it all starts with having a place to put them.  Which brings me to todays math lesson.

If person A, makes a little more than four hundred dollars a week,

If person B, takes two hundred from person A every week,

How much does that leave person A with?

C’mon people, I know you can figure this one out,

Two hundred whole dollars!  Bingo! You get a free trip to the tent city I will call my home, with luxurious accomodations courtesy of big chief bill, who for the small price of a half pack of pall malls, will let you upgrade to the garbage bag suite, complete will urine jar and a pile of the softest leaves you ever did see!

Little more math for the remedial students,

two hundred, times four,

Ok, this is a toughy, so I’ll let you slide,

Eight hundred dollars!

Minus one sixty for car insurance,

Minus about one hundred in gas,

Leaves, drum roll please,

A whopping, five hundred and forty dollars!

Kinda tough to go back to school, live in a hellish place, and keep every other weekend open on that, huh?  Not to mention the wonderful feeling one gets from working in an emotionally draining job, knowing that half of what you do, you do for free.  And the best part, going home to be told how terrible you are, and how you are lucky to have a place to sleep.  Ok, now, don’t get me wrong, I can take quite a bit, I have, but there gets a point where enough is enough.  So, there we are, the prospect of no future, being beholden to a person that hates my guts, knowing that because I suck at life, my progeny will more than likely hate my guts as well, at the same time, dealing with a severely alcoholic family member, trying very hard not to turn into a severe alcoholic, and then, and then….being told you HAVE to.  Not can you, or will you, no.  You HAVE to.  NO, I don’t.

Some fuckups are small, like picking the wrong color dress for an occasion, or wearing socks with sandals (which I do), and then some are huge, and life-encompassing. 

Mine was clearly of the latter type.

It’s ok, you don’t care?  Well neither do I.

Good day!

Ok, so I promised.

Yes, I am a complete fuckup.  In many instances, completely useless.

Oh, I am a father? No.

I suppose I am not.

I was, I used to be, but that came with something,

Does anyone understand what it means to give?

To completely give what you are, to say to another person that

This is it, that this is the rest of your life?

That kind of love is hard to find, I know this.

Let me be drunk and stupid,

Let me not feel it,

Let me not understand it,

There is no other way,

Oh, that is not good enough,’

I am sorry,

I am so sorry,

That I said those words,

And that I meant them.

Did you mean them?


Why should I care, why, why, why?

If it means nothing, then it means nothing to me.

Do you see?

Am I blind, to something, I should be?

I am not,

I cannot,

I tried, to be, that person I should never be,

Slowly, but surely,

Burn me,

It is so hot right now,

Do you think this is always me?

Kills me, it kills me,


I wish it was over,

There was an end to those words,

There was a way out,

I should have never said them,

But I meant them,

So now I look for the way out,

The only way,

I follow the rules, I am here,

But I follow the rules,

Soon, you will not worry,

Soon, I will not matter,

I meant what I said,

And I said what I meant,

A me,

A me,

One hundred,

One hundred percent,

Please let them forget me,

A distant memory, procreation,

That I wish was not me,

I wish I was there, I wish I was what I should be,

Fuck up, so fucked up,

Not you,

Do any of you see?

I did not mean it this way,

Deserved better, than me,

I was so sure, that I was the one,

What a fool, I was.

So now wither fool, in a pit of your own making,

I did not mean it,

Does it even matter anymore?


I will try,

To die.

very hard.

Nice to have the means,

So sorry, no contact with me,

Off, I am off,

Disconnect me.


(Please god let me be successful)

You have no fucking idea.

No waking.

Who is Who, Who are you?

(Going through my assignments when I found this little gem I wrote for my business class last year. I love little essays like this)

Who is Who, Who are you?

A Who’s Who scam is a fraudulent Who’s Who biographical directory. Who’s Who scams involve the selling of “memberships” in fraudulent directories that are created online or through instant publishing services. These fraudulent directories represent thinly veiled moneymaking scams.

A scam may begin with a telephone interview or online questionnaire to validate a potential target’s personal information. This information can be included in the fraudulent directory, sold to other marketing firms, or used in future attacks such as phishing emails. Once the personal information has been gathered, the target is congratulated as having passed the interview and is asked to provide a credit card number to finalize the process. Upon further inquiry, the target may be told that a credit card payment is required to receive a certificate and copy of the directory.

Recently incorporated companies are often behind these scams. The few individuals listed in such directories often have themselves included as a marketing tactic. The result is that these directories become a simple form of vanity publishing. One known problem is that people’s credentials sometimes list their online directory memberships long after such fraudulent directories disappear from the web.

There are numerous variations of these practices. In former European monarchies, publishers compile volumes listing “noblemen” (such as dukes, counts and barons) who are often little more than fantasists who paid large sums to have their names inscribed in these books. Even high school students are not immune to such ploys; for many years a now-defunct company based in Texas published a Who’s Who Among High School Students which justified its activities by offering (at random) a few scholarships, usually for $200.

Who’s Who companies that adequately filter their entries and provide value to the people listed in them are hard to identify. A & C Black’s Who’s Who is the canonical example of a Who’s Who reference work, being the first to use the name and establish the approach in print. However, the longevity of the publication itself is not a guarantee. In 1999 Tucker Carlson alleged in Forbes magazine that the long-lived Marquis Who’s Who adopted practices of address harvesting as a revenue stream, undermining its claim to legitimacy as a reference work listing people of merit. However, Forbes currently bases 10 percent of the methodology for its America’s Best Colleges list on alumni listings in Who’s Who in America, the flagship title of Marquis Who’s Who.

(of course it got an A…)


Week after week, I see the nurse at my job, she is young, attractive, and desperate to be married.  She has her boyfriend of four years or so, who she is constantly henpecking to get engaged.  Now, once upon a time, marriage seemed a nightmare to me, not so anymore, but it did.  I see her, and I realize, this guy is never going to marry her, and if he does, he is going to be one miserable fuck.  Why?

Because when you do things under an ultimatum, you fucking chafe.

I don’t care who you are, no one likes to feel like they HAVE to do something, especially something like that.  I tried telling her, but she is dead set on her ideas, and its going to be hell for both of them eventually, I wonder why anyone would put themselves in that position.  See, I can relate very well to chafing, I wanted to do all the things I did, but at the same time, I was made to feel like I HAD to do all of that.  A healthy mind state that does not equal.

Boone was right, I was in a kids relationship that had adult problems.  I heard it and knew it to be truth.  Who said that you have to be mature when you become a parent?  Or when you get married?  Apparently that is not the case, and growing up is a bitch.  I never felt grown up, I always felt like a kid, and I still do.  There is something very different now though, something that feels more solid, and steady in me.  I can ignore things, distractions, I can focus much more, its now a matter of what to focus on.

How do you like that, you think you know who you are, what you are all about, and then life goes ahead and fucking smacks you in the face and screams in your ear.  It hasn’t been that long I suppose, not at all, wounds take so long to heal sometimes, before you can move the way you used to.  And there lies the irony, because as we all know, it is irony that makes a story poignant.  I have no desire to move how I used to.  Only on a dance floor perhaps.  I feel as normal as I have ever felt in my entire life, not to say that I do not have my moments, but overall, well, its just fucking brilliant.

Maybe a short parable is in order.


A young wandering monk traveled across mongolia, searching for a wise man who was known as, “Master Mistake”.  It was said that this master had made every mistake a human being could make, therefore making him a veritable expert on almost any matter involving human interaction.  The monk traveled for weeks, walking through scalding deserts, and treacherous terrain, finally reaching the base of a small cliffside temple cut into the rock somewhere outside the Gobi.

The monk had met a young woman from a nearby village, and he was desperate to know what he had to do in order to avoid saying or doing the wrong thing, thereby driving her away from him.  He found the wizened old master laying on the floor of the temple, arms splayed out, breathing shallow breaths.  The young monk rushed to his side, certain the old master was at deaths door.  He asked him what had happened.  The old man said nothing, and only looked at him briefly before returning his unblinking stare towards a bucket that lay next to the dusty altar covered in half melted candles.

The monk was even more desperate than before, and quickly told the master his story, explaining that he was in love, and he feared mistakes he might make.  The old master nodded slowly, and pointed to the bucket.  The monk was confused, and he felt foolish, thinking himself lacking for not understanding what was maybe a great and deep lesson.  The master looked at the monk and explained softly that he had mopped the floor, and fell on the wet ground earlier.  The young monk was confused again, wondering why he even bothered pointing to the bucket at all, why had he not just explained that before?

He asked again about the girl in the village, he explained again how he wished to avoid the typical mistakes a youth in love would make.  The old master looked at him again, and pointed at the bucket.  The young monk was growing frustrated now, and he finally asked what that had to do with his problem.  The master laughed softly to himself and spoke.

“You are the bucket.”

The monk thought about this for a moment, again trying to extract meaning, and again, finding none.  The master continued.

“Fill you up full of mistakes, and one day you still might spill out and break your ass on them.”

The master took his last breath, and the monk wrapped the body and buried him.  He sat and meditated for days following the old masters death.  On the fourth day, he arose, having made his choice.  He would stay there.

As he would later tell another young monk coming to seek wisdom,

“Empty buckets do not spill.”