darkness, I know.

remembering.

If the day of my birth wasn’t falsified on my birth certificate, then I was born under a New Moon. Waxing.

I began in darkness, and to it I return now.
It is my friend, and it is what I know.
The stars are my light.
the stars are what I reach for.
I was one once one inside, and I will find that shine again,
soon to be blessed by the light of the Moon.

I will give that shine to those who have lost it, as I have,
and the world will be blinded by the brilliance remembered.

I have things I need to do, and Im not going down without a hell of a fight – and I am scarred with the lessons that will help me survive.

it’s as if there is no end. I thought graves were only six feet deep, but I just keep on falling, and falling.

I got pulled over today, with Bean on my way home from Carolyn’s after doing some food shopping. The officer took my ID, and went back to his motorcycle as I sat there, nothing I could do except sit there, motionless, in awe at how fast my life is crumbling around me.

I see the tow truck pull into position across Polk, waiting for a break in traffic on Hayes to back up to me. The officer comes back to the window. Bean’s her usual happy self, comes up to my window to get some attention from him.

I push her back.

“You have a suspended license.”

                       Yeah, I know. I have for years. Been doing pretty well, too – until you noticed
                       my  reg tags don’t sit exactly right. Good fucking eyes, I’ll give ya that.

I get out of Marlena, he tells me to get anything important out of the car.
               
                       Good. I’m not going to jail. Thought I was for sure.

I open the trunk, get my tool box, three sacks of groceries, my skates, Dremel bit kit, laptop, a syrofoam lined box I picked up a while ago to send, believe it or not, yogurt to Cole, the nice paper I got more of to write letters south on, my car jack, and last, Bean. As the wrecker hooks it’s evil talons around Marlena’s unsuspecting front tires, I realize I will never see her again. I pull off the rear hubcap as a momento, to go on the wall next to the grill of Cherry Bomb, my previous 280 SE, a deep maroon ’70. Two years older than Marlena. At least I’ll have something to remember the fun I had in her – the songs I sang with Cole, the places I went with Jess, everywhere I went with Bean, watching her enjoy the wind and lean into the curves like a pro.

I watch her as she’s towed away, and look at all the stuff I have. I ask the cop if he could call a cab, and I guess he does. I’m makins sure Bean stays close, as it’s a busy street, lots of people are walking by, it’s cold and windy and she’s just a bit nervous. Doesn’t really get it.

“I called a cab for you – a De Soto.”

“Will they take dogs?”

“Sure – she’s a service dog, right?”

“Yeah. She keeps me sane.”

“Good. Just tell them that. She seems sweet.”

                       Damn skippy, Mr. Officer.
                       He’s a nice enough guy, just doing his job. We even traded
                       brief stories about riding in the rain. I told him about
                       the monsoons in Phoenix after he mentioned he just might make
                       it back before it opens up here. He talked about Nevada.

                       Of course, I’d rather he be doing his job with a drug dealer or
                       one of those people who can’t seem to realize their turn signal
                       has been on for the last three blocks. Or anyone driving a Hummer.

“She’s the best. Ever.”

“Remember – a De Soto!” as he rides away.

Okay, a De Soto cab. Whatever. I’ll take the first one I see. It’s cold. Bean doesn’t really seem to dig this too much, but she’s being cool, just laying as much in the way on the sidewalk as possible. Occasionally one of the few people still walking around make a wide berth into the street to avoid her, sometimes I need to hod her as people pass. I see the uneasiness in their eyes as they look at her. She’s not wearing her trademark smile.

I wait.

I don’t know how much time is passing, as I don’t have a cell or a watch – but it’s getting darker. I’m getting doubtful. I haven’t seen one available cab go by. I look at my stuff laid out on the sidewalk, try to configure in my mind how to some way carry it all to get to a better corner, but there is just too much, and it is too heavy. I’m not one to be intimidated by weight – I used to be a mover, years ago – but there just doesn’t seem to be a way to make this work. It would be too akward, regardless.

I wait.

I look at my stuff. Maybe if I…
I try it. no. That won’t work. I wish my skates had laces, then I could just tie them together, throw them over my shoulder, and figure out the rest.

They don’t. I wait. There has to be a cab coming up this street sometime, right? I mean fuck – it’s a main thoroughfare!

Fuck it. I’ll figure it out. I hate waiting, especially when the wait seems futile. I won’t. I need to move to a better place.

I look at my things for about the tenth time. No way I can carry all of it.

I can carry those two paper bags in one hand, the 40 or so pounds of tools in the other. The other plastic bak I can string through the strap on my laptop bag, and I can squeeze the dremel kit inside of that, I hope… Yes. The paper fits easily inside. All hail many pockets. The skates…       Wait. If I snap together the buckles, sting them through the laptop bag in the back…

It works. Bulky, bouncing, heavy, the stap cutting into my shoulder, but hell. It works. I lean down to pick up the two paper bags, then the toolbox, making sure Bean stays near. I don’t really give a fuck too much about the jack at this point, and the styrofoam lined box – hell, I’ll find another one of those, she will get her yogurt, damnit – but Marlena’s hubcap. There isn’t any way. I try, though.

no. Goodbye.

I trudge off, Bean unleashed but doing well, if a bit skittish, and we make to cross Polk, 1/2 block away. We make it, and wait for the light. there is still heavy traffic, and I’m terrified for Bean, but she’s responsive, and still aware enough to listen and respond. I find myself canting the mantra “With me. With ME!” as she knows that is her call to stay close to me. There is a car jutting way out into the crosswalk, and we squeeze by it, me limping along with my load, and her, nervous as hell and frightened by the noise and what she must hear in my voice, almost darting out into the traffic flowing quickly up Hayes. She barely made a move before I bellowed my command again, but I believe I saw it happening, and thank the Gods, whe looked up at me, trusting, and listened. She veered back to me, stayed as close to my side as possible, and when we reached the curb the first thing I did was open my toolbox again and try to find something – anything – that would be able to be used as a leash, for her comfort and safety, and for my life. If she got hurt or killed…

I dug around and found the only thing possiboe – the cord for my Dremel motor. I tied it to her, the motor in my hand so as not to make her more uncomfortable by it banging against her, and we hobbled on. She was definitely more
secure, pulling away and sniffing all that she could, while I struggled to maintain a gtrip on the handle of my toolbox and the Dremel, three fingers for the box, the two strongest for Bean.

We made it safely to Van Ness and Hayes, me figuring that there would be plenty of cabs on Van Ness.

I waited.

Then it started to drizzle. Then, it started to rain.

We ducked under a doorway, hefting the paper bags and the laptop case (which was essentially open, due to the Dremel kit inside) making sure they ere going to stay as dry as possible. One of those DPT guys that direct traffic came up to me and asked how I carried all that stuff. I told him I was looking for a cab, shortly before he took off.

I waited. After the seventh try, someone walking by agreed to let me use his cell to call a cab, and I did. I don’t know his name, but  I won’t forget his face. he stood by while I dialed information for the number to Veterans, Dialed the number, realized that his phone is based in 510, dialed again with 415, waied on hold, and finall got the dispatcher. Cab on Van Ness and Hayes! Northwest corner.

“Just a bit!”

I waited.

After a while, I noticed that Opera Plaza had a thing going on, and while no available cabs were coming down this way, there was a steady flow of them turning the corner, just a block away.

There wasn’t any cab coming for me – or if ther was, fuck ’em.

Heft. The strap bites into my shoulder again, but now, cold and wet, I can barely feel it. I need to get Bean and me home!

We make it to the corner, cross without too much incedent. On the other corner, the golden one, I notice the sidewalk is soaked. Looking for a drier spot, I find none, and contemplate putting the paper bags down. No. I can’t. They’re already wet, and if they go…

I set the toolbox down, and put the paper bags on top of that. Good thing it’s a bit tool box. Bad thing it can hold so much weight.

Five available cabs go by, see me wave, slow down and speed off.

Bean.

Finally, one stops, accepts Bean as long as she stays on the floor, and gives us a ride home. I look at the time when I walk in the door. 6:55pm. I look at the time the ticket – and summons to court – was written. 4:06pm.

So, gone. Marlena,  my beautiful car that transported Bean, my friends and myself where we needed to go. Gone, the only souce of income I had, working for Carolyn, who was incredibly generous and an absolute sweetheart, and who I loved working for making her home int what we see it could be. Gone, the dreams I had of restoring Marlena one day, when things were better, Gone, the trips with Bean out to the Ocean, and anywhere beyond walking distance.

Gone, so much. It seems as if there is no end as to what can be taken away, and I’m growing weary of these life trials. I keep telling myself that tomorrow might be better, and i know it can. It’s the one and only thing that kept me alive in the past…

but where the fuck is tomorrow?

My court date, just to maliciously twist the blade inside, is set for February 14th. 8:00am

Valentines day.

Oh, but wait. I already fucked anything good happening on that day up already.

 

Damn good thing a bottle of Single Malt was in one of the bags I carried around.

 

 

 

 

Honor.

What I strive for now. What I always have, yet fallen tragically short when the unknown inside finds its own voice.

Honor in action, in spirit, in love, truth, and Self. Being something I can believe in.

Teiwaz is the Rune I drew last night after my walk at the ocean, and what I then branded inside my right forearm (after a shot of whiskey – FUCK, it hurt.) – to never forget what I have done, or what I need to to. What my primary goal is, and what I have worked for. It will always be there, to remind me of this time, if I should ever forget. It will always be there, to remind me of the scars I have given the ones closest to me.

Still, so much work…

I will get where I need to go, and be who I AM.

===============================

Interpretation:

Teiwaz:
This is the Rune of the Spiritual Warrior. Always the battle of the Spiritual Warrior is with the self. Funding a will through action, yet unattached to welcomes, remaining mindful that all you can really do is stay out of your own way and let the Will of Heaven flow through you – these are among the hallmarks of the Spiritual Warrior.

Embodied in this Rune is the energy of discrimination, the sword like quality that enables you to cut away the old, the dead, the extraneous. And yet with the Warrior Rune comes certain knowledge that the universe always has the first move. Patience is the virtue of this Rune, and it recalls the words of St. Augustine that the reward of patience is patience.

Here, you are asked to look within, to delve down to the foundations of life itself. Only in so doing can you hope to meet the deepest needs of your nature and tap into your most profound resources. The molding of character is at issue when you draw Teiwaz.

Associated with this Rune are the sun, masculine energy, the active principle. The urge for conquest is powerful here, especially self-conquest, which is a lifelong pursuit and calls for awareness, single-mindedness and the willingness to undergo your passage with compassion and in total trust.

When this Rune comes in response to a relationship issue, it indicates that the relationship is both timely and providential. The bond is a real one; there is work for you to do together.

If the issue concerns devotion to a cause, an idea or a path of conduct, the Warrior Rune counsels perseverance, although at times the kind of perseverance called for is patience.

A Rune of courage and dedication, in ancient times Teiwaz was the glyph that warriors painted on their shields before battle. Now, the same symbol strengthens our resolve to align the self with the Self.

Reversed:

The danger is that through hasty or ill-timed action, life force leaks out or is spilled away. If an association is short-lived, do not grieve; know that it has fulfilled its span. Matters of trust and confidence are at issue here, and with them the authenticity of your way of being in the world.

Reversed, Teiwaz calls for examining your motives carefully. Is it self-conquest with which you are concerned, or are you trying to dominate another? Are you lusting after outcomes, or are you focused on the task for its own sake?

You will find the answers within yourself, not in outside advice. When you consult the Runes, you are consulting the Self, an action appropriate to the Spiritual Warrior.

=====================================

This is a rune that also denotes protection when not reversed, and caution when it is. Again. perfect.

strange. almost too strange.

Months ago, maybe even almost a year, I was lamenting money woes with a friend at a party. The outcome of that was I ended up selling him my soul for five dollars.

It was funny and I got five bucks, but just after he handed me the money I remember something of an odd feeling, and asked him for my soul back – mainly because the idea felt uncomfortable, I thought, and it was difficult to wrap my mind around – but of course, a deal is a deal, and I accepted his refusal for it’s return.

Then, somewhat randomly, I get this email from him today:

…”oh, btw, my lease option to buy on your soul is running out in 3 days. So, I’m gifting it back to you. Merry Christmas/Saturnalia/Solstice/New Year/Samhainn!”

in reply: …”The gift of my soul returned comes as a timely
> and perfect surprise. Thank you so incredibly
> much! (Maybe that’s what I’ve ben missing?)”

and his: “you deserve the soul back. tried to do evil with it. it’s just not that kinda soul. seemed too kind a soul.”

make what you will of that…………………………….

To top it off, there is a woman who I have never actually met sending me beautiful and striking emails – she found me while looking for a room in San Francisco, then her plans were altered and she had to stay in North Carolina a bit longer – but she has stayed in contact, and I am extremely grateful for that.This is her latest message to me in its entirety, sent just a couple days ago:

Westward purple floating circular bands, tri-color woven haloish into dreamscape, where do i begin

thoughts- movement- energy- manifesting…

sending you light and love Casey…

and this mantra..

OM MA NI PE ME’ HUNG

OM ~ embodies the five wisdoms
MA~ encompasses compassion to all beings
NI ~ liberates sentient beings of the 6 realms
PE ~ pacifies every suffering
ME’ ~ burns evil deeds and obscurations
HUNG~ gathers all precious qualities

by the blessing of this 6 syllable mantra,
pacifying all unfavorable circumstances and misfortunes may all sentient beings be set to the path of liberation!

====================

there is hope.

walkabout in Sea minor

I’ve been taking long walks at Ocean Beach the past two days, bringing Bean with me so she can run around and chase birds in the rain. It’s so nice in the rain, no one else there. No distractions, except occasionally telling Bean not to eat some discusting thing or another. It gets wet and cold, but a scarf keeps me warmer, and I keep walking. A scarf knitted for me by someone I love dearly, and I have driven away.

There’s a lot to think about, a lot to try to understand.

A lot to change.

Why do I keep sabotaging all that I hold dear? Why, in this case, in a way that makes me cringe at the though of it even being possible? That person is not me – but it is. No one else can be held responsible. No one. I took their trust and caring and spit it back in their faces. Me. This sweet, kind, loving person.

Who is discusted with himself.

I’m going back to therapy, calling the doctor tomorrow. When I left, he mentioned that he wouldn’t consider it closed, so I could come back whenever I wanted. That was good of him. I have an entirely different issue than the last one. I’ve got a very distinct goal now, and a conviction for change stronger than I’ve felt in a long while about anything.

I can’t be this way anymore. I can’t have the people I love around me until it is addressed, and I go through it, leaving all but the memories of the pain I caused behind – eventually.

I came home after my walk, drew a rune from my bag. Just one, asking what the necessary action is.

As almost always, it was perfectly appropriate. Teiwaz.

I thought more, and marked it on me so as not to forget – or more appropriately, to always be reminded.

I could never forget.

I listen to the rain and it sounds like a heart that I thought I once knew.
I listen to the rain and I know
that everything can be washed
away
only leaving a scent of a person I once was
in fear and unknowing and
profound unknowing
and I will become better
and I will, hopefully
value me as much
as you have seen in me
in eyes that weren’t as tainted
and fogged as mine.

demise of a stranger inside

I’ll find it.

I will destroy it.

It takes my integrity, the trust I have built, chews it up and spits it back in their faces.

This is NOT FUCKING FAIR! I’ve worked so hard to become someone I believe in, hoping it would be safe…

for them – the ones that are foolish enough to care. Of course, I have let them, thinking that I could control it.

control isn’t enough. control is an illusion. I need to destroy, at any cost – before I destroy more.