“It’s not like you killed someone; it’s not like you drove a hateful spear into His side…”

All pig-tails and patent-leather shoes.

Daddy never seems to care.

And fathers are the first glimpse of God all children see.

Left little choice, you choose to sin.

Just to get some attention.

 

 

But boys are not the Almighty.

Regardless of how much they put in you…

the emptiness still grows.

 

 

The years fall away and that little girl continues to struggle.

(Still wearing pigtails and patent-leather shoes.)

To wrestle love from the unloving.

To punish herself until absolution arrives.

Yet it never does.

The sacristy is empty.

The wine is soured.

And no one listens in the confessional…

save the echo.

 

 

Oh, child, who told you that you were naked?

You were forgiven long before you strayed.

Ω

♪ ♫ ♪: A Perfect Circle – Judith

Another fable of mine

Once upon a time, there was a great and terrible tiger.

Its power matched only by its insatiable appetite.

No matter how many animals fell to its fearsome claws and teeth, it remained unsated.

So hunt, it would, ceaselessly.

To the point that all of the creatures on which it preyed petitioned the Brahma, saying:

“Please, Great One(s)!

Save us!

We are destined to be obliterated should this Fate continue to befall us!”

 

 

The Brahma, in its wisdom and kindness, heard the pleas.

Thus was created a hind (a female Sika Deer) that would be eternally reborn and grow to maturity, mere moments after its demise.

 

 

It was not long before the tiger noticed its new prey.

Falling on it.

Devouring it with abandon, as the hind was a joy to hunt and delicious in its consumption.

Yet, the very next day, as the tiger’s hunger was ever-present, the hunt would resume.

The hind would be spotted.

And the cycle would continue.

 

 

Soon, the tiger would hunt no other.

As the taste and thrill were too satisfying to forgo.

One day, not long after the cycle became known to the creatures now spared, a wild boar said to the hind:

“While the Brahma has delivered to us salvation in you, we cannot help but feel sad for your lot.”

 

 

The hind, very wise itself – as the Brahma took special care in its creation, replied:

“It is the lot of some to be hunters.

It is the lot of others to be hunted.

To deny this reality is the road to suffering and disappointment.

 

 

Therefore, I choose to embrace that I feed such a powerful creature.

That my flesh, and my flesh alone, strengthens and sustains such a magnificent predator.

 

 

Yet, my role in the grand design is no less than the tiger’s.

For, without me, the tiger could not survive.

And, without the tiger, I would have a far less noble purpose.”

 

 

Though not as wise as the hind, the wild boar nodded in agreement.

Letting the world be as it is.

Ω

“All the grief in all the world is not enough to make me comfort you”

This is from a recent IM conversation:

Him: If it takes this much work to get a girlfriend, then screw it. I won’t bother.

Me: Ok. Stock up on lotion and tissues because you’ll need them for a very long time

 

 

People really should know by now I don’t give false comfort.

However, this exchange got me thinking.

I’m starting to get annoyed at women that say their relationship with a guy they like is “Fate” or “Destiny’ binding them together.

Because that truly, deeply cheapens a man’s work at self-improvement and self-maintenance.

It’s not some magic force.

It’s the fact some men (like myself) work at being the best we can.

And we never stop.

I didn’t get good at writing, being charming, playing guitar, writing music or being witty by sitting on my ass playing video games or watching TV.

“Fate” didn’t give me any of that.

I gave it to myself.

 

 

Consequently, by being these things, women are often attracted to me.

Because I have value, passions, drive and skills.

Conversely, I don’t give Fate or Destiny credit for a woman working hard to stay in shape, really learning how to talk to and relate to a man and doing everything she can for him to demonstrate her love and affection.

She put the effort in it and deserves the credit.

If you want to thank otherworldly forces, in some rare cases that’s Ok.

Such as somehow recrossing paths many years after meeting one another.

Or encountering someone in an unlikely/unexpected place.

In other words, I’ll let folks be grateful to Higher Powers for introducing them.

But not for either attraction or a strong relationship.

Those things take work.

 

 

I understand that’s nowhere near as romantic.

But believing otherwise is shifting responsibility.

Failing to own one’s own choices.

Not to mention, the first steps on a long road of heartache.

 

 

Ω

♪ ♫ ♪: Motörhead – I Don’t Believe A Word

The Cycle

She tells me she keeps getting involved with emotionally unavailable men.

That she continually gravitates toward men that won’t – or can’t – commit.

That she’s always in “open” relationships.

I tell her:

You’re simply repeating your relationship with your dad.

Thinking she’s caught me in an error, she quickly replies:

“Ah, but I never had a relationship with him!”

To which I retort:

Exactly.

You don’t have a relationship with any of them.

It was at that moment I watched the epiphany play across her face.

“Little Suzy, she was only twelve
She was given the world
With every chance to excel
Hang with the boys and hear the stories they tell
She might act kind of proud
But no respect for herself
She finds love in all the wrong places
The same situations
Just different faces
Changed up her pace since her daddy left her
Too bad he never told her
She deserved much better”

– P.O.D., Youth Of The Nation

Ω

♪ ♫ ♪: Same

“I like driving backwards in the fog…”

The poor thing hits the ground face-first.

It’s only a plastic jack-o-lantern.

But it’s still a shame.

 

 

The toddler that dropped it looks like he stepped right out of a Rockwell painting.

The kid’s all blond haired, blue eyed and cute enough to make my girlfriend want to have 12 of him.

And he’s running down the sidewalk at a gold-medal pace.

His mother calls to him to come back.

But his little legs keep pumping.

 

 

“Run, kid. Run like Hell”, I say.

My gal, sitting across from me at the café table says, “From what?! His mom?!”

I tell her no (with a cocksure smile).

From everything.

He can’t be more than 3.

And it’s all downhill from there.

 

 

Ω

♪ ♫ ♪: Audioslave – Doesn’t Remind Me

“I’m the dog who gets beat…”

↓

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Beta men of the world,

 

 

You take a lot of shit in this corner of the web.

 

So allow me to give credit where it’s due:

 

You put your lives on the line to protect us.

 

You work hard to keep us all living in the manner to which we are accustomed.

 

You support those in need.

 

You promote order and stability.

 

 

 

Without fans, there would be no rock-stars.

 

Without a pack, there would be no Alpha wolf.

 

Without tools, there would be no machine.

 

 

 

So demand more.

 

From your leaders.

 

From your women.

 

From the world.

 

Because you’ve earned it.

 

 

 

 

Ω