Hurting to this song

“Nothing equals nothing.”  It’s too much of how I live.  Yet, without my Grandma and Janet, I would really be nothing.


I promise

When you go, I go.


I felt compelled to condense my previous posts in a more direct manner:

I feel what I do is not translating.

I have learned a lot and try to live in accordance with that change.  However, I feel like it is not noticed, and therefore not validated.  Have I come so far?  Have I wasted my time?

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Nothing Fails


An addendum

The “An Ignored Gem” post below with Madonnna’s “Promise To Try” video was posted after the first time I  saw that video.  I was surprised how personal it was for her.  The image I have taken from that video is when she lies down next to her mother’s grave.  I never thought of such an exhibition of love.  That struck me.  My tears followed.  It was an emotional night for me.  The video is flawed and has some corny bits but those moments by the grave were powerful to me.


One thing that I’ve realize of late is that I’ve tended to grow fond of many people who have taken an interest in me.  Perhaps, that is what love or friendship relies upon.  I’m not sure.  I think that it’s somewhat rare for people to take an interest in your story.  When they do, and especially when they inquire more than once, does that not make them a friend?  Perhaps more?

The cynic in me wants to say that it is self-indulgence.  Take a bite of my cookie.  But, when we inquire others, are we trying to relate them to ourselves so that we can learn?  That may be the case.  However, if you ask and ask and ask, what makes you satisfied?  Does it matter?

As I evaluate myself, I do aim for self-gratification in all of my relationships.  It isn’t so bad.  If I can talk to a person and uplift their spirit or help them think in a new light; I feel gratified.  Not so much because they needed me but because that uplifting energy is contagious.  Feasting on filet is better than chopped steak.  So, I wonder if I should question my intent.  After all, filet is filet if you indulge in that sort of thing.

I’m in a stage of


Twisted tight

but upright.

I’ve pushed too hard,

pulled myself inside,

looped in thoughts;

I’ve done nothing

but tie strings.

I am

in a stage of


a beaten path;

Squawking too much.

I hear you

and don’t care

for you are

too simple.

Shut up!

I’m in

a stage of besiegement

with doldrums.

Clang, clang

same bass.

I’m  blasted and

trigger-happy with blood

on my own


I’m in a

real messy


not to be scorned

for I have learned

so much

Here is

not there,

I have so much

to laugh at.



I’m in a stage

of disbelief

that I am in this mess;

this convoluted ripple

disguised in a puddle

from whence the rain

dropped first.