Log in

No account? Create an account
20 most recent entries

Date:2015-11-16 07:28
Subject:Your boy turned pro last night

post a comment

Date:2013-09-05 23:51
Subject:dreams from memories

Last weekend I went to my second SIA meeting. I just got my 2nd CP case.

Last night I had a very bizarre but amazingly surreal dream that started in the upstairs bathroom of our house in reche canyon. I had pulled the drain stop out of the tub and the water started draining, but then the water level would rise again despite the spigot being off. I turned to the sink and the same thing was happening there.

I wrote notes about it, which I never really do with my dreams, even though I say I will. I never want to wake up fully to do it, but this time it seemed important to remember details, but the pen's ink was bad and my handwriting is illegible.

The dream ended in a kind of apocalyptical scene of a wide river water rushing down an old, formerly dried out flood control...but there were sub stories within, involving a kid I know from M's treatment alumni, and another young kid, presumably newly sober. Something had just happened between the two of them. The younger kid begging for some kind of approval or validation, suggesting that the older guy go on ratemyboyfriend.com, suggesting something sexual in nature had occurred, and that lines had been blurred. I knew right away as i came into normal consciousness, that this related to recovery and consent. It took me a couple of minutes, but I realized it was the same bathroom where I wept and washed myself one fateful day. And the river was like the opening of the floodgate, and there was no rain to blame, it was all like an upswell, or a dam breaking. To state the obvious, things coming up.

At the second SIA meeting, I remembered the things that had come up between us after you had been sober the last time, the memories, both yours and mine, the way you felt I had treated you, how oblivious I had been, and how horrible I felt...we have this unfinished business you and I. And I would like to "finish" it in some incarnation, and all I know is that I have not yet attained the wisdom to face it. Perhaps I will in this lifetime, and can face you once again.

Maybe that's why I write this; to open up the possibility of reaching some understanding and wisdom. We were never even close to talking it out, but we admitted things, didn't we? We started...we opened Pandora's box then quickly push the lid back down, or not...I don't know.

There was so much that you and I could not face, but there was willingness there...I know that we were so dysfunctional. So apparently so on face, but we were the meeting of our shadows, in a way. You and I never had a relationship that looked good on the outside, but I know on the inside, we were reaching towards each other for an almost noble purpose. Noble is the wrong word. I will go back to the world and try to find the right word.

i wish we could talk about this. I say my side here, but I wish you could tell me a little bit more about your side of the story.

Thank you for meeting me where you did though. It was important.

post a comment

Date:2012-10-06 10:31
Subject:this was in my acct unposted on 3/26/12 so I'm just guess the date when I wrote it

So Steve Jobs died of pancreatic cancer and it hit me weirdly because he was so young. He had just officially retired from Apple and I was vaguely worried that the progress and innovation would get sluggish again like it did when he left Apple last time, but now that he's gone, like dead and not just in another room, I remember again that we are mortal and I hate it because there is so much to see and do and look forward to in the coming years.
I would love to imagine that you can now meet him. As if the afterlife is a small town where each new visitor can be greeted readily by the long term residents, but its a comfort to imagine you and him talking. I still have the apple clone we bought. I could power it up and look at your files and art work.
Today my therapist and I talked about my hoarding and radical acceptance and all that and how we can't hold on to things that are already gone. For instance, keeping a book I've already read won't mean that I can ever conjure up the feeling of first discovering a characater and watching his or her story unfold.
I miss you. I wish I could meet you again.

post a comment

Date:2012-07-04 20:44
Subject:listening to X and re-reading my villa elaine entry

It being the 4th of July and my having dropped Mia off at a meeting at the Villa Elaine today. Wow it just occurred to me that maybe you went to that meeting too and that's why I'd been picking you up from there?!
didn't know Gregory Slay had cystic fibrosis...

I spotted a new biograpy about John Kennedy Toole at the bookstore.
I miss you so much.

post a comment

Date:2012-05-23 00:33
Subject:so Ms M hit her 2yr mark on Monday

and tonight she took a cake at her alumni mtg. she and this other guy who hit 1 yr on Sunday. It was sweet...and its good to just sort of look back and acknowledge how far we've come. so much of what I walked through with you helped me get through this with her and I know that I was meant to learn these things. And what I "know" from these experiences is far more than anything I know from books and school, and yet...the knowing seems so unscientific and subjective. I guess the spiritual experience is so extremely personal. If its meant to move beyond that, it will in its own time, I guess.

T has a mowhawk. however that's spelled. i've been frustrated with a ticket and an accident he was in and the money involved in dealing with it. trying to stay cool about it though and deal with it the best way i can.

post a comment

Date:2012-03-25 11:02

When I had my astroposophic reading done by Willam Bento a few years ago, he told me that I would experience true love (or something like that, I can't remember what words he used) in 2012. So I have not cared so much about finding this so called love anytime sooner, but now that it's 2012, I'm realizing that I don't want another "chance at love" nearly as badly as I want another chance with you, and you are not here. You used to always wonder out loud why "youth is wasted on the young" and here I am wishing that my wiser self, wiser than I once was, but wiser than I even am today, could fall in love with you. In some weird way, I want to be wiser, just the oldest soul ever, when in another life I fall in love with you and handle it better. And I don't even know whata that means.

Yes the children have had their first romantic entaglements and I am still not wise enough to offer any advice, or perhaps just wise enough not too, I'm not sure.

Anyway, just thinking of this spirit of mine, so unable to take direct advice, so rebellious in my quiet way, untrusting of this so called "common" sense. Perhaps I AM too willing to learn from my mistakes, to let the children learn from their mistakes, rather than be shielded from the harshness of life. I was watching an episode of a TV show and there was a side story of a child preparing for a preschool interview. It just made me remember that the other day out of nowhere I casually said to Mia that if there was one thing I would do differently if I could go back, it would be that I would have sent them to private school. And then I went on about how I thought Ren Arts had been a promising alternative, at the time, etc. etc. I suppose my so called "wiser" self would have to supplement a private school education with some kind of anti-snobbery experiences, because even as I now write, recall why the idea of private school over public school disturbs my sense of the way the world "ought" to work.

And that's really whats on my mind today. How do I navigate my ideology with the real thing. No matter what, one always has to hustle for resources. You need resources to built the dropbox, or to "get there" - its not a just a roof, or anything edible...provisions in their own way are life itself. Where I sit now as I write. What it took to feel safe and fed before I could sit down here now and indulge myself this way.

The places that you and I did this very thing. Woke up, ate, washed, watched a little TV, fed the cat, thought of where to go and what to wear. I miss you. What's new? I miss you having something new to tell me. The old stories are fading and twisting around each other. I need you to remind of Tony as a toddler. What really happened? I'm not even sure anymore, although I never was. And not only what I want to ask you of what I can't remember anymore, but what do you think of this newfangled thing. This new technology, but this new band, and this new movie, and the election...

You would not like me like this, so isolated. You would want me to be out and about, I think. So I will go to a meeting today. And see if Tony will sit down for a meal. And I will work for our provisions, and wish that you were here.

post a comment

Date:2011-10-06 15:24

So Steve Jobs died of pancreatic cancer and it hit me weirdly because he was so young. He had just officially retired from Apple and I was vaguely worried that the progress and innovation would get sluggish again like it did when he left Apple last time, but now that he's gone, like dead and not just in another room, I remember again that we are mortal and I hate it because there is so much to see and do and look forward to in the coming years.

I would love to imagine that you can now meet him. As if the afterlife is a small town where each new visitor can be greeted readily by the long term residents, but its a comfort to imagine you and him talking. I still have the apple clone we bought. I could power it up and look at your files and art work.

Today my therapist and I talked about my hoarding and radical acceptance and all that and how we can't hold on to things that are already gone. For instance, keeping a book I've already read won't mean that I can ever conjure up the feeling of first discovering a characater and watching his or her story unfold.

I miss you. I wish I could meet you again.

post a comment

Date:2011-10-01 22:22
Subject:loss's inexplicability

I went down to long beach last weekend to try and spot tony and his roommates some money to pay a vet bill for their suffering dog. They didn't know what was wrong with her, but she had been throwing up and there was blood in her feces and she was getting dehydrated and sad.
They couldn't test her, but they thought she had an autoimmune disease called Parvo, and they taught the kids to give her an IV and otherwise treat her at home because they knew they could barely afford anything.

Tony called me a couple days later to say that Parvo was the wrong diagnose and they wanted to keep her overnight to do some more tests, but it was going to cost $750 a night. I told him I needed a couple of minutes to think and within a couple of minutes he called and said, "She just died....at least she's not in pain anymore...don't send the money anymore...I gotta go." And I guess it was all there on the surface from another recent conversation I had with Mia, but a flood of memory--the day after you died when he finally asked me, "What happened to my dad?" And it must have been the look on my face, because the way his face changed when he yelled at me, "So it's TRUE"...and then when he just wouldn't let them take your casket away. When the memory came to me a couple of weeks ago I wanted to punch you in the face. I wanted to hurt you for hurting him that way. And Mia feels it in a different way, not the punch to the get, but some other missing piece...I don't know what you and I did. You and I and God and whatever other forces there are at work.

I am always guilty and ashamed. I probably already was when I met you, but this story we told with our lives and our choices, this story, I realized this today...and I say realized, but perhaps admitted is the better word, because I've denied it so far..the story of what you became to me, and how the gravity of it became such a force in the direction of my life, really, the day you died changed so many things for me. At a subtle level, I would have to say, but so profoundly that whatever propensity I already had for isolation, well let's just say, I want to be real with people but I don't want them to ask because I cannot explain...

I have often thought that you became a touchstone for me. Or my heart in its utter and simple love for you. There is nothing truer for me, besides the children. When they use the term "rings true" - relating to you , its bells in crystal clear tones.

After seeing Tony, and remembering his broken little boy heart again, I've started to mull over how much it was about you simply being there father. I've not thought to give that much weight because it seems so beyond that. I didn't count on you. I've hated anyone who suggested that I had the children to hold on to you. I've imagined another story, one where you live but we don't end up together, and that one is still a million times better than you dying.

I don't know. I guess I'm stuck just missing you. Of still, after all these years, being stunned by it. Confused about what to do next. Feeling like its a bad dream that I just can't seem to wake up from. Being in some version of survival mode.

I think I need a shift. I hope these realizations will set me on my way.

post a comment

Date:2011-09-16 08:08
Subject:I think it would actually make you proud

to know that you have the kind of kid who would skate from La Guardia across Queens to Brooklyn at 11 o'clock at night after flying across the country. And you'd laugh that after 6 or so miles of skating, he took my advice and asked someone to direct him to the subway.

You would also laugh at the fact that I bought a 13 foot library ladder from a Border's fixture sale and when I found out I had to store it in my (new, well new to me car) overnight, I promptly cracked the windshield jamming it in so I could lock the back windwo from which it had been previously protruding.

And if you were here, we could sit this kid Eli down and interrogate him in lieu of killing him for all the time he spends with our daughter.

I realized last night that as much of a nightmare it was to live with your disease, its a whole other surreality, doing this with out you. I don't even know if you and I would have stayed together but I would have always loved you and you are the only one who could really truly watch with me as they grow. Maybe you do and I just don't know it. I just don't know it.

post a comment

Date:2011-05-22 20:25
Subject:one year

Mia had her first birthday in recovery yesterday. She posted it on her facebook status and your mom and sister "liked" it. I wish you could've seen facebook. T & M agreed that I should go ahead and make a profile for you, but its been weird. Tony had been trying to find your music on the web and thought we should at least make a myspace page for your album. I had to buy a scanner to work and have been scanning some old photos of you.

I'm so proud of Mia. Its been a tough year for both us, all of us, not in a bad way, just a lot of challenges.

I went to an AlAnon meeting yesterday and wanted to share but there too many people and I was afraid to raise my hand with "good" news after some of the particularly sad shares. So I didn't get to, but as I sat there, I was realizing that I am still holding my breath. Not so much in fear of a relapse, but too afraid to be happy. Last week at the Tuesday meeting, some new parents came and talked about how they had lost a three year old child ten years ago and after I left the meeting, and the conversation with the mother who approached me after the meeting, all I could think about was this kind of "survival guilt" that you had. How you talked about how devastated your family was at the loss of your brother and how you thought they wished it had been you instead, especially during the times that you felt they were disappointed in you.

Someone said at the AlAnon meeting yesterday that people meet AlAnon recovery in order to know how to live with a broken heart. I'd never heard that before. The woman who shared it was the leader who opened her share with a story about her 19 year old daughter who was graduating from High School with AP classes, director of the school play, etc. pulled up her sleeves to show her her track marks. The woman who was sitting next to me kept sobbing and at the end she shared that she was a newcomer at her first meeting and that she too had a daughter on methadone who she thought was also using on top of it. I can't help but be a million times grateful that it didn't get that far with Mia. I want to hug everybody. Mia wrote on her friends facebook wall, the one who died of a heroin overdose, that it was her birthday and "Wish you were here" and of course the tears just came down when I saw that.

There is no happiness that isn't bittersweet because I will always WISH YOU WERE HERE.

post a comment

Date:2011-05-22 20:03
Subject:lost entry from a couple of months ago

Dynette stayed with Mia the last three nights.

I interviewed a guy named Carl whose best friend committed suicide when they were 19 years old. A month earlier they had taken acid at a house party and then answered a call to go down to help a friend who was getting in a fight. When they got there, the other people fired a gun and one of their friends was shot and killed instantly.

The friend who committed suicide locked himself in a bedroom and shot himself in the head. When Carl got in through the window, everything above his friends head was missing and there was blood and brains everywhere. He got to where he just didn't care and went to prison for armed robbery. He was sentenced to 112 moonths but was paroled after 10 years.

He works at a thad a certain old soul insight

post a comment

Date:2011-01-05 22:39
Subject:lost a friend overnight
Mood: sad

Mia lost a friend to a heroin overdose sometime in the last 24 hours. He was a really sweet guy. I remember Mia was really worried about him when she heard he first relapsed many months ago, but then he moved in a sober living house and seemed to be doing really well.

I cannot try to console her.

They had a beautiful meeting where everyone shared about him and how his death affected them and we all went to a diner afterwards. I saw his girlfriend who is this amazing vivacious girl who was on a panel at the alumni meeting the night before. I saw the couple together so happy in each others company. She was always smiling and welcoming and outgoing, and tonight I caught her staring into nowhere at moments and it was such a weird thing to see on her because she is usually so light...but I know that blank grief, that timestopping disbelief.

I wish I could say that feeling eventually goes away but it doesn't. I tried to tell Mia that grief is like that skin that forms on the top of soup. That you can't make it go away, you can try to spoon it out but it will form again; you can only stir it back into your soup and let the soup be your life that contains the grief but is still so much more. And then you just have to keep gently stirring your soup. I don't know where that came from, but its true for me.

I wish that heroin wasn't so much like gravity. So scientifically undefeatable.

We invited Dynette to meet us at Heb & Flora's for Christmas Eve. It was good to see her.

Bonnie posted that your Dad's brother is dying.

post a comment

Date:2010-07-14 03:25
Mood: pensive

so when m was supposed to be discharged on tuesday but they/we decided to move it back to monday, I wasn't sure if I could handle the irony/juxtaposition/emotional rollercoaster that would present for me, but I ended up taking her to a mtg in noho where the main speaker talked about how his relationship to pleasure and pain has changed...that when he feels pleasure he doesn't try to hold on to it forever or chase it down, and when he feels pain, he knows that it will pass...and i guess for a moment i could grasp that i don't need to build a monument to either one to make them more or less real or meaningful or true.

i still think about you all the time. a dozen summers.

the boy turned 18.

post a comment

Date:2009-12-29 01:09

back to square one
after listening to podcasts of Marsha Linehan and Jeffrey Young
and the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder
which I'm learning, gratefully, is posited to be recategorized as axis I and renamed something like Dyslimbia


Marsha Linehan
Jeffrey Young
Valerie Porr
Kathi Stringer
Roger Peele




post a comment

Date:2009-12-26 00:02

Had dinner with H&F after visiting M at her residential treatment (aka Rehab), and spoke with your mom on the phone.

It has been a tough holiday with M away. Zapped all desire for me to spend time with my side of the family as most of that time is for M's sake anyway. And what we're going through right now is so far removed from their experience and yet such a crucial time in my path. I want this time for myself, not to have to drive the distance and behave festively when I don't feel that way at all. I cannot reconcile these two parts of me...what I was born into, and what I have chosen.


That's what I chose. And everything that falls from it, good and bad, I embrace as my path.

post a comment

Date:2009-12-12 19:56
Subject:Recovery part deux

I visited your daughter in rehab today.

This year the sea rose and quickly fell and rose again, and I found myself on my knees and back in the rooms again.

Before the trek to rehab, I went to a "parent" meeting. It's the third time I've gone, and I've grown fond of it. The faces are becoming familiar. It's in La Canada, and they all look like they just walked out of the bedroom mansions of Pasadena and San Marino. A notable number of them have junkie kids in their 20's and my heart goes out to them. At first, that kind of scared me, but not anymore, not today.

The topic today was "God." Step 11, I guess. I can't remember the steps right now. Step 3? Whatever. But as I sat there, my "share" formulating in my head, my visit to the Unitarian Universalist Church last weekend, my inability to tell my teetotalling parents/family that my daughter had been drinking alcohol, my own obssession with this radio show "Speaking of Faith", my late night watching youtube videos of an "update" to AA called "Integral Recovery"... I realized that higher power, what Mia has made hers -- "Love", what I have always known as my basic "faith"...what made the meaning of "recovery" truly resonate with me, what sustained me through my grief, the particular version of having no more streets to trod down in hopes of finding you...

I found myself believing that every time I was able to "turn it over", I was given the freedom to love you without condition, to accept the part of me that loved you, to remember how you made me laugh, or rethink something, or cheer you on, or miss you...to me recovery was to have that back. To not let anger and disappointment define my experience of you.

One man shared that in AA and NA, you are compelled to take the leap of faith and work the steps, "because otherwise you'll die." In this particular room, we're compelled to do it because otherwise our child would die, which is the next closest thing. I wanted a chance to stand up and say that we are all going to die. Nobody wants to die of this particular disease though, particularly if its preventable, but ultimately we all die, so why are we really here? To avoid the shame of this particular kind of death?

What I wanted to say, because I was just realizing it, was that the gift of recovery is not simply life versus death, it is the quality of life that we get from forgiveness, from letting go of anger, from understanding and undermining the ravages of disease, so that we can remember our best selves, and cultivate our best selves so that we can love each other more readily. I can grab on to Mia's higher power. I have no doubt that love is a power greater than me, greater than my own fears and that patterns that feed them. But love does not make us immortal, at least not in the strict sense of the word...but it does make the fact of our existence a beautiful thing indeed. I love you. I was planning to say at your funeral how lucky I was to have had you in my life. I was too untethered to say it out loud because I didn't think the "audience" would make sense of it, but anyway,

I miss you.

post a comment

Date:2009-01-22 16:15

I just counted and realized you would've turned 40 today. Weird. I was making a charm necklace for Mia yesterday out of a photo of you and her (and a fraction of my face) that was taken at my birthday at that Mexican place over by our old appartment on Sanborn. It was the last birthday that I had while you were still alive. In retrospect, things were spiraling at that point, but I remember it as a good and hopeful day for us.

I also realized today that Mia's first birthday was the day before you're last...

A week or two ago, Tony and I ate Sushi at the Frying Fish. I was telling him how you and I had gone there, it was the first time I ever tried sushi, and we spent way too much money for our budget. A week or so before that I stood acroos the street from Bloom's and remembered those crazy days as well. Bloom died a few months ago too. I was standing in the doorway of this new sausage joint that also has a remarkable collection of international beers on tap and thinking about how much you'd appreciate it.

The neighborhood has changed so much. Every change makes me think of you because I want to know your thoughts on every single change and although I don't go plummeting into the sea of grief every time I realize that I can't simply turn to you and ask (lord knows my eyes would never be dry), I do remember how big and bright you once were in my world and what a void you've left. I'm okay though. I just miss you.

There's an art supply store in the Canadian building now, and hopefully Tony and I will go see demo on some paints. He's in San Diego right now...he got his first magazine photo.

Going to see Mia in a dance performance tonight.

post a comment

Date:2007-11-25 14:59
Subject:your children

Your daughter called me from the roller rink last night. She was supposed to go to a sleepover afterwards at her friends house and then the zoo today, but she called, rather texted me about seeing "Across the Universe" again (this would be our 4th screening) because "I miss the music and the music."

And your son went skateboarding with some friends last night and didn't make it home because the friend who was driving needed to rest up before driving back to Santa Cruz today where he attends college.

We missed Heb & Flora again this weekend.

I miss you. I'm sitting at a cafe across from Amoeba Records in Hollywood. I can't remember if Amoeba was here when you were, I think it had barely opened. Anyway, its right across from the Sunday Farmer's Market, which I can't go to without thinking of you. The first time I went there after you died, I wept, and then I ran into a couple of people from work, one of them was my boss.

I'm working on a case right now involving a client who was a junkie who was losing it and trying to get help in the weeks leading up to the crime. I cannot tell you how difficult it is for me to write about this now and not want to fight to learn the truth, but we don't have time to figure it out all, and frankly, the courts may not care. Its hard for me to be objective in any case, but as I write this, I know it will do me no good to bury this.

The puzzle of you, the self-loathing on the one hand that didn't believe in my love for you, and the manipulation on the other, that used the part of me that couldn't let you go. I know that you are sorry...

post a comment

Date:2007-11-05 22:33
Subject:so what happened on your deathday this year

was we drove to San Francisco. And I had planned to bring your ashes with us. Because I remember that time we hiked up the hills behind the greek theatre and watched the reggae sunsplash festival for free along with the other too-broke-for-tickets-but-too-broke-for-bud crowd. We hadn't known each other long, and not at all in the biblical sense. It was in July as well, close to the 4th. Anyway, I told you I was trying to figure out how to move to San Francisco, and you asked me if you could come, and you said something really corny, like you'd follow me anywhere. And I wasn't so completely dense to believe it that you were professing some kind of infatuation, but rather a comfortableness with me...like we'd known each other forever. (Did we eat in Chinatown that day?) Anyway, it was insane getting ready for the roadtrip. I think I never even cleaned out the van...and your ashes never made it out of their cabinet and into the van. So we were way too far down the road when I realized what I'd forgotten, and I was incredibly bummed about it. Then on the 13th, I called Bonnie, who was visiting Flora, and she told me that your Abuelito had died that day.

We had planned a trip to Cosa Rica in August. Your Aunt Emelia had passed a few weeks earlier. I was devastated and felt like I had failed you double and triple fold by not getting Tony and Mia to Costa Rica in time to see their great grandmother and grand aunt.

I suppose the only antidote I could find for my regret was a need to turn my energy to what really matters. I felt your mother must be overwhelmed, and she was, so we postponed our August trip and when I was reminded of Tony's plans for Spain, they seemed extremely present in importance.

So...for my 40th birthday, I'm treating myself to my first trip to Europe. You, of course, have already been there.

Well, your mother came to California, I think to help Flora with some legal issues, and we tried to arrange a visit, but again, the kids had plans...and by the time we tried to see Liz, she was worn down, and not feeling like she'd be very good company...I think she flew back to Costa Rica today. Life here is stressed and crazy. We do the best we can.

I miss you. I remember in some of your suicidal moments, you'd threaten that we'd miss you if you died, and you were right, at least about me. I really do miss you.

post a comment

Date:2007-11-05 22:26

I spoke to your mother yesterday...it made me miss you a lot.

post a comment

my journal