again, please.

Remember when *this* happened?

Kind of REALLY wanting to do it again.

http://youtu.be/as7SB2qciPA 

Origin.

Five days.

Forty-seven years minus five days ago was the moment I was taken from her arms – taken from all I knew – her heartbeat, her voice, her smell, my only known home. Ripped from everything I knew as comfort, torn from all peace inside.

Only we, the “adopted” know this feeling… but can never truly give it a name.
Others could never understand. Even we barely can.

Forever betwixt and between, never knowing ourselves – making it up as we go along, constructing and tearing down walls built around our hearts to try to have the slightest bit of control over who leaves who this time… destroying any chance of happiness… we don’t deserve it. We aren’t like the others…

We hide.

Only in finding are we somehow made whole – sometimes. The lucky ones. Only the children who needed to search, and then, only those who were fortunate enough to find their origin.

Origin. Where the shape of our eyes, the slant in our smile, the small everysingleday actions of our hands, the pain we don’t even notice in our heart anymore because it has always been there and always will be and it is just who we are… the emptiness our only connection to where we come from…

I have been fortunate. I found her. My Mother. After actively searching for over 25 years, wondering and creating fantasies for an entire lifetime (maybe I am David Bowie’s son?!) – I found her. Alive, welcoming, and only a three hour drive away.

This year I am spending my 47th birthday with my Mother – the first birthday I have ever spent with her – excepting of course the few minutes of the night I was born.

It was Kat’s idea. My girlfriend, my love, my partner, my best friend. She is making it happen – driving us up there, the third time I will see my Mother. The first time Kat & Annie will meet.

This writing is crappy – I am just – so incredibly overwhelmed… 15 years ago I took my gun out of my mouth, thinking “what if tomorrow is just a little bit better”?. Two years ago I was in a hospice, fighting like fucking hell just to stay alive. I had no idea what the future held, just that I wanted to be around for it…

I couldn’t have imagined how amazing my life has become – couldn’t have even dared to dream something even remotely close to this…

But here I am. I found my Birth Mother, and have found the Love of my life – the woman who I have been searching for, who I had nearly given up on actually finding… and as an added bonus, she says she loves ME, too!

Five days. My first birthday with my Mother, my first of many with Kat…

Yeah. So… life is fucking amazing. Well worth the fight to stay alive… and it just keeps getting better.

Even though I am not David Bowie’s love child.

in my heart

How can you say that you’re my solution?
I choose this or none at all

I choose you through all the pain

all the hells I have traveled to be my goddess, my queen

And I cannot say anymore about you – what you are is what you are and I am for you

but I WILL say a final thing… that you are in my heart true.

HOW can you say that you are my solution? You never did …

And that is why I love you.

 

what but everything

seconds ago she asks…

“what have I done to deserve you?”

I do not have an answer for her…

only the same thought in return…

shine

it still carries the stains of its past

this shot-out heart I offer

but its words are still true

and

I can try to shine it up for you

thoughts on

take it as it comes.
Few are as blessed as this exquisite bonding, this dream… and I had given myself up to knowing nothing like her could ever come my way…

 

but then she fucked up everything I thought I knew, and did.

Still, i take it as it comes – and we both give.
What is this?

I need to figure out how to give her more – I  don’t feel like I am enough. Not for her… not for what I could be

for her…

bones

She reads.
All of me – all of my life, my loves, my mistakes, my small triumphs…

She reads it all. Every. Fucking. Word… that I have written

– except for the seven handwritten journals, the countless bar napkins, torn pieces of paper that needed the ink in my heart, all of the words that have been tossed out of a car window to decay, to rot…

but perhaps those again in time… I hope not. Far too much rot.

She reads, rattles the bones of my past. I gave her permission. She didn’t need to ask, but – she did.
When she finds something that speaks to her, she says little but the date, sending it to me in a message. Sometimes, with her own few words or part of mine.

Where did I find you?
How much will you cost?

Rattle and cast these bones, tell me what they say.

I will pay any price for you – but I will not give everything.
I will keep this language and its source – the boiling in my blood, the passion in this heart… but I give my heart to you.

Not sure how that works… but it does.

You remind me of who I have been.

You remind me of who I am.

Is it odd to shed tears for a past that can’t be brought back?

Inspiration…

SO… this one goes out to *everyone* but especially #thedresdendolls & #thedresdendollsbrigade , including Amanda Palmer & Brian Viglione, if you’re willing, able, and OH so kind to offer a few words…

I’m writing “a brief history of me” for an ongoing, educational & illustrious freelance gig which involves interacting with LOTS of people, influencing, inspiring, learning from and teaching them. Things that are right up my alley, and perhaps why I have been blessed with so many challenges in this life – to truly KNOW what I’m talking about…

So – have I, even in the smallest way, inspired or influenced you in my writing, my bajillions of personal emails, or my engagement with you?

If I did, please let me know! I would love the inspiration, the reminder of who I *can* be, the strength to write the best fucking words they have ever felt.

I want them to beg me to work with them, and they will – but I would love a bit of inspiration from *your* voice to make mine stronger.

This job is a game-changer in my life. It is what I have fought so fucking hard for: Not just a “job”, but the continuation of this exquisite journey…

Please help me show them how much they need someone like me – and THANK YOU!

~ kSea, Casey, QuaySee, QueSi, etc…

Until again… or if never.

After many months, maybe nearly a year – an email sent to my adopted dad…
I will never be able to say everything I feel to him, but I try.
I don’t want to hurt him… just want him too see me… for once.

to believe in me for once.

 

A Hard Road…

this is the road I have chosen. It has been destruction, wanting, searching, beauty – and the knowing that they were all who I needed to be – who I am.

 

We tried, didn’t we? Unfortunately we carried our past with us – our expectations, our beliefs in who we “should” be to each other, and in that gained nothing.

Do you know what my only regret is? It might surprise you. It is not any of our endless battles, not the pain I cause you or the pain I let you cause me… my only true regret is not going to the symphony with you when you asked me if I wanted to… was itevery Thursday, or just one a month?

I don’t remember – only that it was on a Thursday.

I still hold animosity towards Jill & Katherine. That is my own challenge. I need to somehow forgive.

I will.

Do you remember the time driving home from somewhere, crossing the bridge on 52 when you asked me about my search for my Birth Mother? “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time, she’s probably dead anyway.”

Clear as day, still. After all this time.

I have grown. I think you might be proud…

After all, that’s all I ever wanted, but couldn’t seem to achieve. Every single passion I had for life was ripped to shreds by your questions, things I hadn’t thought about.

It took me years to realize that most times, passion is all it takes – everything else falls into place after that. Just get started, screw plans, and follow your dreams.

Dreams are more important than anything we could ever make tidy or explain…

I am still alive because of my dreams. ONLY because of my dreams.

Life is good for me now. I have the most incredible girlfriend I could ever wish for, and am in love with my life – though I am still fighting to get a few cash clients for my copywriting/content strategy business. I know it well and WILL rock it, just need to push the fears ingrained in me aside and KNOW that I can.

I can change lives. I already have… for the better.

I wish you the best. You always tried, and I appreciate that.

My birthday is in seven days. I am spending it, for the first time (save for the few minutes when I was brought into this world) with my Birth Mother. A gift from my girlfriend, who is driving me up to her home.

This will be the best one ever – and yes, I am including the train rides to Del Mar. I still talk about how much I loved those.

For that, and so much more – thank you.

You are a good person, dad. One of these days you just might be fortunate enough to have a bit of sense knocked into you. 😉

Until again,

~ Casey

The things that come with not dying…

I have a problem. Kind of.
Actually, it’s more like a Catch-22 kind of thing.

Many of you may know that by all rights, I should probably have passed from this life and be little more than a (hopefully) fond, slowly fading memory right now, but that didn’t happen, and it took every tiny ounce of fight that I had inside of me.

Since then, life has just continued to get better – I found my *awesome* Birth Mother after a 25 year search, rescued the best Furbeast a person could hope for, recently met and fell in love with someone who actually has room in *her* enormous heart for mine, and started a business where I can use what *I* know to help others… and that’s where the problem rests.

Ya see, since I decided on this business over a year ago, I’ve been sucking up as much knowledge on it as I can in order to get better, stay up to date on everything and, most importantly, get clients, but there’s just TOO DAMN MUCH INFO. I find myself scattered, constantly second-guessing, and as a result not moving forward.
I need something clear and concise – a *single* focus to get my business SERIOUSLY launched, such as a study & action course – but I can’t afford it, because I haven’t been able to take & apply it.

Did I mention that as a result of not dying, I also have a birthday coming up in just over a week? And that there is a course taught by one of the best in my business that *will* kick everything into high gear? It’s clear, concise, complete and *focused* – exactly what I need to get my business seriously rolling.

Most classes I have looked at are anywhere from $700 – $2500, and WHEN I have that coming in I’ll certainly take some (*never* stop learning!) but this one is only $340 – IF I SIGN UP BY MIDNIGHT TOMORROW (otherwise it is $490, still *well* worth what it offers)!

***SO this I ask of you – for a birthday present, to celebrate the fact that I actually *have* another birthday, or just because you’re awesome and want to help me *continue* to kick ass – would you be willing to donate to my class fund?

Here’s a description of the class: http://www.awaionline.com/a/b2e/

***You can Paypal any help to cultureflux.magazine@gmail.com, and every red cent will go towards the class, hopefully reaching the $340 mark by MIDNIGHT AUG. 28th – tomorrow night!

If you can, please help everything *continue* to get better. Every little bit helps get closer to this important course – and THANK YOU!

library

Loving that one of the main characters in a story that I am reading, written by Richard Brautigan in 1966, is still strong and alive.

It is a library, and though dressed in different clothes and given much more charm for the sake of the story, the ghost of what it never was is still echoing in the walls for those who know.

one single word

8.15.14

A word more powerful than nearly any other. A word more overused and tainted, heartfelt, believed… and unknown.

A feeling that reaches beyond the body, beyond the soul, beyond anything tangible. That can only come close to being described in poetry, yet even the greatest of poets could not truly define it regardless of the heights they attempted to make it fly in its glory nor the unfathomable depths of the anguish it has caused so that another could grasp the way it held their heart.

When I look in her eyes I feel what I think it is – is this all it needs to be honestly said? Is it that simple? No. The word itself is little but a reassurance, something that we think we need to hear to minimize our insecurities or those of another. It has been soiled, misused, and the honesty and weight it once carried been chipped away by all the sharp tongues that have spoken it, made inaudible by all the desperate ears that have pried it out of voices without hearts.

I feel that it should be said, but only at times when it cannot be held back. When it is not thought about nor spoken only to echo, but when it bursts from the heart in a way that cannot be contained.
It should be shown, displayed, made solid through the way life is lived, how suddenly each thought is never again solely about you. Inhaled and exhaled in every breath, each act created with the intention to bring happiness in the other, just to see the sparkle in their smile.

I don’t like the word “love”. Not the word. Not as used when I say it to her.

It is far too insignificant. Speaking it cannot come near comparison to what I want to do for her.

When I tell her of my love, it will not be empty. It will be saturated, dripping, with all the beauty and honesty and power of the poetry that I or anyone else has – or ever will feel – inside.

the fear of not burning

The fear again. Fear because I don’t feel any dread, no fright, not the usual panic that I’ve grown so accustomed to.

She is reading everything – tells me today she is at October 2005 of my blog, and though I rarely go back and read my words I succumb to curiosity and explore who I’ve been…
Something is different inside of me. Something has changed, and I don’t know when, I don’t know how or where.
There is a subtle and quiet terror that wants me to believe that walls have been constructed again somewhere over the years, or that each failed romance has slowly chipped away at the passion that was once in every breath, leaving only a functional husk of who I was, gasping for air, gasping for life…

But… perhaps the anxiety of that is indication enough that it hasn’t, that I am still burning with the fire I once knew. The possibility is there that I’ve merely ‘matured’, have found a way to control the hunger inside…

Yeah. I’ll go with that.