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barbtries a blog
Monday, March 29, 2004
United Press International: Army sent mentally ill troops to Iraq
and the suicide rate is sky high. this war. sigh

Friday, March 19, 2004
one of the missing chapters.
my daughter was murdered on 07-19-01. i am attempting to finish compiling, transcribing, and writing the book that came out of that terrible circumstance. this is a chapter i just transcribed and though i am really fearful that it will make precisely NO sense to a reader who does not read it in the context of what was going on at that time, still here it is. comments even brutal are appreciated; well, not brutal! honesty though - very much appreciated, thank you to anyone who takes the time.

this chapter starts with the dream that heralded my arrival at acceptance [not a nice peaceful sanctuary but in reality just another place in hell for the bereaved mother to either settle down in or travel through]. i had the dream just two days before bekah's killer was sentenced; this was a very difficult time...actually i think i was radiating, leaking, sending out sparks of bitter. which is where the fight with my sister originated.

i could just say it, i suppose, but what i wonder is does this convey it: the experience of losing a child, losing that child at the hands of a human being, cannot be appreciated fully by persons who have not been forced to endure it. one hope i have regarding this book is that if it is published it will prove helpful to bereaved people, by validating their [eminently valid] feelings, and non-bereaved people, maybe just by getting them to realize that there are some things they do not and cannot know, and sometimes they should just acknowledge this reality, suspend judgment of those who are trying to cope with a loss that is beyond comprehension, and be happy that it is not them learning this truth.

It’s all about acceptance.
- Bekah, in her diary

I was tormented by dreams all night or entertained by dreams all night. In one dream I lived at a house by the ocean, and right in front of my house was a stone jetty, which had been paved with concrete so that the walk on the jetty was easy into the water, almost –

At one point Bekah was at the door. She was matter-of-fact, neither happy nor sad, loving nor hateful. She said she was there because the battery on her cell phone died.

I heard her voice.

I hugged her. I felt her substance. But she did not hug me back. Then I was at the table with Carolyn and Curtis. I was telling them that Bekah had been at my door (in my dream?) and that I saw her, heard her, and felt her. They had a box of Christmas presents – crafts – that had fallen apart. I found a piece of one of them, which was a present for a son of a niece of Curtis’s, after they had started to argue over whether that person’s present was even made.

Either before or after that I had seen that four very young children were wandering onto the jetty. I worried about their safety but did nothing. Very shortly their mother was chasing them and chastising them or someone else for letting them go that far without her.

At the same time or just before, or just after – musta been after because it segued into the last part of the dream. Crowds of school children coming off a boat right there. Mostly kids, school kids.

Then I was a teacher. But their original teacher had gotten her good name back and just as I said, “I have a very important announcement to make,” preparatory to giving the class back to her, I woke up.

When I saw Bekah I was full of joy and I hugged her but she didn’t hug me back – after I woke up I was stung by her lack of response whereas while I was sleeping I was only full of joy that she was there.


My Dearest Bekah,
As you no doubt know I am just letting my hair down for a minute while Carolyn goes to Huntington Beach. Tyler will be here in two or three hours and she, you (? I hope sweetheart!),and I will be flying up to WA at six o’clock tomorrow morning.

I loved the sunset so much last night…Bekah I just felt it so hard! that you were there, making pictures with the clouds. First the turtle, then the heart. And I LOVED that Rory saw the turtle too Bek!

Just made me feel it even more. It was such a wildly emotional few days, winding up with Carolyn and I having the worst fight I can recall us having since I was a child.

I’ve thought much about it since…and yes I have no doubt been hard to live with. The days leading to Friday were full of Friday. And they played us all right! big time babe.

That might be a second reason I haven’t written (the first being that Carolyn inhibits me somehow – I feel so unvalidated – more on that by and by). I did fail you Bekah. I know you are well and that all is good with you. That is to say that I know that as well as I can.

I’ve all the faith I can muster is yet a third way to say it. After our wonderful dream Tuesday night Herman praised my progress – he said the dream is VERY meaningful. Very-very! Because what it means dear girl is that over six months after your murder your mother has completed the first leg of her journey through the desert of despair:

I have achieved acceptance.

When he told me that it seemed very clear, clearly the correct interpretation. Also why you did not hug me back: you are ready to move on, your mom is not quite ready to release you.

Oh, baby. Baby, baby, baby girl. As my faith evolves and grows truer and firmer within me the emotional permission that I granted you in writing – what a month ago already? will follow.

Sometimes I wish you could be physical again. Be as solid and you as in that precious unforgettable dream. Then I would really know, things that I already know but that I have a hard time asserting even to myself when somebody wants to tell me otherwise.

But as I protested advice I should know better than to listen to on Wednesday, Herman reminded me of the way to go. The book he quoted is titled Shoot the Buddha and this is what I mean:

Two people so far have charged me with causing you pain by virtue of my momentous grief. No, neither has lost a child, or even had one. The first was the Reiki healer I met through Janet. She’s developing her mediumship abilities and it was when she told me that my great and continuing grief was causing you “physical” pain that I knew it was not your spirit with whom she was communicating…in fact I believe it was just her own feelings that were so strong to make me well that inspired her words.

Now when she explained Reiki to me she spoke with her hands a lot. And I felt the energy on my leg several times. When I asked her if she had lost a child (she has none), she said, “My father died.”

“I lost my father and mother both by the time I was 25 years old,” I said. “Walk in the park.”

So that was number one. First of all she could not give me any truly validating information. Second, she tried to make me feel guilty toward you because my grief hadn’t gone away yet – and this was before Christmas.

The second was a fellow writer at WBM. Similar: a spiritually adventurous free thinker, whose heart is in the right place, but – either because she feels so confident regarding the “correct” nature of her personal beliefs, or because she does not have a clue because she is not a mother at all let alone a bereaved mother [this person wrote to me that Bekah was in just as much pain as I was. Both advised me that she would not be able to "move on" until I recovered fully]. I think she has lovely theories and I agree with much of her work that I have read. I also do not doubt that she has mediumship abilities. I should add that in both cases I trust a genuine desire to apply their gifts helpfully. But they forgot or never considered the fact that they have not got a clue or even a SHOT at a clue…both forgot empathy in the zeal of their sympathy.

Because, Bekah, if any soul knows that I toil arduously toward the grail of grief recovery it is you. If anyone appreciates that my mourning is not protracted it is you. If anyone would notice that to accuse a grieving mother of causing her recently deceased child pain in the afterlife can NEVER lead to healing, it is you. amen

Such that I have absolute faith that if nothing else you will not try to reach me for the purpose of letting me know you are in pain – no, no, just the opposite! And maybe that is why messages have been few or iffy, though I also TRULY believe that you will find a way to remember your other loved ones, some of whom as I am sure you know have not yet gained acceptance.

That is our accomplishment, Bekah…yours, mine, my counselor’s, my group’s, this pen, this ink, these wearying fingers.

Acceptance is a major accomplishment and I recognized that I had covered ground. Though I have been all along because I write it…I have crawled, crept, fell, inched. Gone backward. Fought it and that was just REFLEX Bekah! Oh, yeah, death does go on, but not your daughter – not murdered – not just barely 21!

Not not not not not Not not not not not not

Not not not not not Not not not not

That’s just pure reflex baby because your death before mine flies in the face of nature’s pretty picture. Nature designs without taking into account the profound imperfection of what we like to believe is the most “advanced” life form on this particular planet.

No, nature plots, paints, writes fates of perfection…then people like pure cosmic, universal, astral spoiled brats, just dash that canvas with their ills and their evils and their wars and their murders and on and on.

On and on. And you’ve returned to pure Nature, the parallel dimension. Justice was laid on you like a warm wrap upon your arrival. And your Love, Bekah, it does keep you living. Though I am at acceptance I daresay your love keeps me hoping to someday live. I love you Bekah forever, with my heart my soul my wide eyes and “our” dreams. mom

Thursday, March 18, 2004
Shamanism Working With Animal Spirits Core
blackbirds, not just perching and flying around me, but walking around me...a redtailed hawk, soaring in the sky over inglewood, CA, crows everywhere of course, and then the seagulls.

today they say, Use of camouflage in protection of family can facilitate seeing the larger picture, moving freely in the void, and enhance the ability to see from above situations.

Monday, March 15, 2004
I Love You God Bless You Anthony

one of Luisa's son's murderers got life without parole. her victim impact statement:

You and jr. murdered my son Anthony. You made that choice. I don’t comprehend it, I don’t ever want to comprehend that kind of evil. Why the violence?
I can almost understand being in a gang… the camaraderie, selling drugs… the money, and graffiti… making a territorial mark. But murder, no I don’t get the point. Are you a better person for it? After the murder did your life improve, were you looked up to?

I cry for my son everyday. There is not a second that goes by that I don’t think about him. Everyday I can not believe that he is gone from this earth. My heart aches because I miss him so.

I’d like to introduce my son Anthony to everyone in this courtroom. For those of you who will never get a chance to meet him, I feel sad. For those of us who have met him, we have been blessed to have known him. Also sad because we miss him.

Anthony was born November 27th, 1978, it was the Monday after Thanksgiving. I remember it being a beautiful autumn day. He was born around sunset and when I first laid my eyes on him I felt so much joy and love in my heart I yelled out in praise and said “Thank You God”.
I even remember the doctor saying, “God is amazing, he created the universe, and still creates new everyday.” I was only 19 and when I was pregnant with Anthony I also remember being very afraid. Afraid of bringing a child into this world filled with violence and evil. I never wanted any of the bad in this world to touch him. I never wanted him to get hurt by it. I always, always wanted to protect him. I prayed and I always asked God to guide him and keep him. “Let Anthony always follow in your light, Dear God”.
I’d always say to Anthony, “I Love You, God Bless You” and he’d always say it right back. Even as an adult.

Growing up Anthony was always a very cute happy and rambunctious little boy. Full of energy, life and love! Always giving his mommy and friends plenty of hugs. He made friends easily. Being an only child for most of his life, he always wanted lots of friends around him. We’d have a sleepover just about every weekend. He cared deeply about others. He’d cry when he saw homeless people on the street and not understand why the world has to be like that. He’d give the shirt off his back to help a friend in need and sometimes people took that kindness for weakness and took advantage of him. But he’d never hold a grudge, he was quick to forgive. He’s rather make people laugh, and he did! He was comedic and loved a good time. He was a wonderful son.

As an adolescent he went through his share of growing pains. A little rebellious at times, but nothing major. He never joined any gangs, nor ever had any interest. As a matter of fact he despised violence and believed only in “LOVE & PEACE”. He didn’t like “closed mindedness” either.
Anthony had many hopes and dreams, one of them was to be a father someday. I knew he would be an excellent father because he had so much love in his heart and soul and he was such an awesome big brother to his little brother, who was sixteen years younger than him and is now brother less because of you and jr.
Another dream was to be a music producer. He once told me that, “mom, music is my life”. He had graduated earlier that same year (2000) from Los Angeles Recording Workshop in North Hollywood. He did extremely well there because he loved learning about his love: music.
He definitely had a free spirit and was always very spiritual. He was taking a piano class at Glendale City College. While he was pursuing his dreams of music he supported himself by working at Pier One Imports in La Canada. He was growing restless since he had worked there for almost three years and was ready for a change, so he had just got a job at the Wherehouse Music Store right before he was murdered. As a matter of fact the manager phoned and left a message on his voice mail “to come on in to work now” a couple of days after he was killed. Do you know what that did to me?

Anthony had a lot of friends, the girls loved him and the guys admired him. He was a “cool dude”.

Anthony was only 21 years old and would have been 22 that November 27th, 2000. He moved out of his family home at the end of August. Just about two months before he was murdered.
He wanted to be independent and grow into adulthood. The only way to really learn is by doing. He had the opportunity to rent a back studio unit from a long time friend of his. He was really happy to be independent. I helped him get a few new things he needed for his place. We went to Ikea together one late September day. We had fun picking out the shower curtain and matching accessories, I even bought him the futon sleeper couch as an early birthday gift, never imagining that two months and one week later he would be shot while laying on it. I can’t help but feel like I let him out to the wolves and the wolves ate him up. I’ve felt so many times that if only he hadn’t have moved out he would he would not have been murdered. I blamed myself for letting him move out, I blamed my husband for making him move out. But ultimately I know the truth is the only people to blame are the murderers, you and jr.

Anthony was, Anthony is my whole life…as our children should be. He is a part of me. I’ve always loved him, before he was born, as he walked this earth, and now in heaven. For you see, the love never dies.

You and Jr. murdered my son, you can not murder the love. I feel him at times so strongly around me it gives me strength to make it through one more day. I raised Anthony many years by myself as a single parent. We have a bond like none other.

Anthony being as loving as he was, was also color blind. I don’t think he had a hateful bone in his body. I know that when he spoke to those gang members working on that roof next door to his home…he probably knew that they were gangs members, but he didn’t care because knowing him he looked at them as individuals, fellow human beings first. He was being really nice to them. Call it naive, he didn’t know that they were actually monsters.
You see I know you and Jr. did not know Anthony. You thought he had money and, or drugs? He worked at Pier One, money burned a hole in his pocket, the same with weed.

I don’t wish this pain I’m going through on anyone, not even my worst enemy. I never had any enemies until you and jr. came along. I’d have to say that you fit that category…for you have hurt me more then I ever imagined I could be hurt in this life time. Does that give you satisfaction? The tragedy, the pain, and the agony that you and jr. have caused? You see when you and jr. murdered my son, you put him straight into heaven, and you put me straight into hell, hell right here on earth. Because of devils like you. You and jr. are cowards, evil cowards, cowards of the worst kind.
I can’t begin to describe all of the pain and devastation that you jr. have caused in our lives. I am very clear that you did not pull the trigger, that it was jr. but you helped him and I believe you knew what he was capable of.
Believe me, I know what role you played in my son’s murder…you may be in denial thinking you’re not guilty because you didn’t pull the trigger. But you know very well that jr. would not have been up there at my son’s apartment if you hadn’t have driven him up there in Lucy’s van. And then you and jr. snuck up to his door and one of you kicked the apartment door in, at two am in the morning. That must have woke him out of a deep sleep for he didn’t even have a chance to jump out of bed. He was supposed to at work at 6 am that morning. You and jr. went on to try and rob him, but he had nothing…is that why you shot him? You had to leave with something, so you left with his blood? Or did you plan on killing him from the beginning? You and jr. murdered an innocent, defenseless man in his bed. You think that’s tough? NO! That’s coward, evil coward. So you’re probably scared of jr. knowing that it’s all too easy for him to pull a trigger. Is that why you won’t tell the truth?

My hope and my prayer is that someday you and jr. will comprehend just how evil and stupid murder really is. Maybe while you’re in prison you’ll join Criminals and Gangs Anonymous and do the twelve steps. And when you get to step 8 & 9: making a list of all those you’ve harmed and make amends to such people. You won’t be able to do that for Anthony and Chris will you? You can never fix murder. Just like I’m seeking justice diligently, I know that tragically nothing will bring my baby back to me, but I have to say that it gives my heart a little bit of comfort knowing that one less evil person, namely you, is walking the streets to harm another mother’s child.
I want you to know one more thing, that as I sat here throughout the whole trial, not once did I pray for your conviction, I prayed only for the truth to be revealed in this court room, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help us God!
And all those people who lied for you helped to reveal the truth.
You and jr. are very ugly and evil inside for you were able you take a mother’s child.
Your family may be in denial also, but they must realize, that they should not be mad at Cruz for doing the right thing, they should only be mad you for doing the wrong thing. I feel Cruz was an answer to my prayers, because I used to drive around Highland Park just crying and crying and asking God to “please touch someone’s heart because I know someone knows something”.

I want you to ask yourself everyday for the rest of your life in prison, do you think it’s cool that you’re doing time for what jr. ultimately did? While he’s walking free?
If there is any redeeming quality in you, you will tell the truth now.

If you don’t confess and repent now, you and your family know that when you die, you will be going straight to hell.


Sunday, March 14, 2004
Yahoo! News - Bombs Kill Six U.S. Soldiers in Iraq
the dying goes on...thanks to WTF Is It Now??

Saturday, March 13, 2004

three months ago i cut off my hair to honor her. earlier this year i framed this and one other painting for her to look at as she sat in the recliner by the window in her sister's living room. yesterday i cried when her sister said, "we're very pleased," as she let me know krista had passed at last. because the diagnosis of the cancer in the liver was only made about two weeks ago and the prognosis had been for a month or two. but lord the woman was ready to go be with her son, her brother and other loved ones she'd missed for years. and she'd suffered enough.

courage, strength, kindness. intelligence, fortitude, courage. Love. what a remarkable woman left this planet yesterday.

Krista i will miss you, and celebrate for you. love always

Friday, March 12, 2004
Press-Telegram - Tom Hennessy
poetry festival in long beach. there's a limerick night, a dog day, a high school slam, a senior's night, an MFA's night, and one night for plain ol' people like me. hm.

Wednesday, March 10, 2004
5 Vector Model for Submariners Focuses on Tracking Qualifications
By Journalist Seaman Andrew Zask, Commander, Submarine Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet
ooh, i know that guy! he's my kid :)

Sunday, March 07, 2004
Massive Head-wound Cory: Comment on Growing so fast!
a week or so ago, cory shared a picture of his baby girl at less than 3 months old, sporting ponytails that turned out to have been digitally applied from a separate picture [i think of his wife]. gullible as i am, i didn't doubt for a second that isabella's hair was already full and long enough for ponytails. i felt so foolish when i realized that i was probably the only person who didn't know better.

so i was going through photos and found this one, of my great niece amanda. this picture was taken when amanda was about 3 months old, and has not been altered.

amanda is - eek! a teenager? i think so...now, but when she was an infant her hair was a source of wonder to all who beheld it. my sister, amanda's grandmother, was married when mandy was about 2 months old. i got to hold the baby for my niece for about an hour or so, and i couldn't count the number of people who did a double take, turned around, and made a comment about this tiny baby's HAIR. she came into the world with a head of hair any 3-year-old would have been proud of, and by the age of 18 months as i recall it fell gracefully about halfway down her back [i'm still looking for that picture].

anyway, i hope with this that cory won't think i'm a total idiot. :)


my son, skating a pool, 2003

Saturday, March 06, 2004
Sugarfused: Haiku
deb's morning Haiku inspired me to post these cinquains, which i wrote about three or so years ago...

feeling crapsey

i was
feeling crapsey,
so started up my pen
and drove syllabically back
to me.


Stark dark highway
High beams Owl screams and swoops
Racing tires to spotlighted mice,
Doomed twice.


Thick desert dust
Off a long stored relic,
I learn that flotsam and jetsam
Are trash.



fair fur, blue eyes,
To Luke a tonkinese
Displays the ways of the siamese,
Then purrs.

Mink fur,
Sable brown face -
Feline grace sacrificed
to urgency and pheromones,
Luke cries.

two of the results of luke and lola...

Yahoo! Search Results for sex with best friend's mom

why does my blog keep coming up as a response to this search?!

for the record, i never had sex with my best friend's mom. and i never had sex with any of my children's best friends. nor would i.

sigh. just wanted to be real clear on that.

Should We Call Them Human?
Narcissistic Personality Disorder
A narcissist demonstrates a lack of empathy towards others and this causes him to treat others like objects. He does not see others as human beings, but sees them as objects that have no feelings or needs. His sense of entitlement leads to his exploitation of others and this results in little guilt or remorse.

i got the link from the iccdf discussion board, where it was offered to help explain kip mckean. but though the diagnosis does seem to fit the apparently delusional leader of a destructive religious cult, the description of individuals exhibiting a Narcissistic Personality Disorder reminded me of nobody so much as the current president of the united states, gw bush.

a quick google search [gw bush and narcissism] confirmed my suspicions. from my reading this morning it appears to me that gw is a quintessential example of a patient diagnosed with this illness - a mental illness.

does anyone remember thomas eagleton? or what happened to mcgovern's campaign after the issue of eagleton's mental health [not his mental health at the time, but in the past] was exploited publicly to thwart the chances of the 1972 democratic presidential nominee?

and bush is a practicing narcissist. mm. scary times, i tell ya. reading about the disorder did help me to gain a little more understanding of what i perceive to be gw's blindness toward the suffering of others...it's no wonder. the man can't see beyond the tip of his own fucking nose.

another quote from the article on Narcissistic Personality Disorder:
Lying is an integral part of the narcissist's behavior and all their self-reports are unreliable. His cognition is impaired to the extent that he frequently misinterprets other's speech, actions, and thoughts. He may believe that someone respects or loves him although this is a fantasy which exists only in the mind of the narcissist.

Friday, March 05, 2004
40936. Murdoch, Iris. The Columbia World of Quotations. 1996
Art is the final cunning of the human soul which would rather do anything than face the gods.

that settles it. i HAVE been doing art. oh, yeah, art.

this is from early last year, i think...it's done with acrylics and/or gouache. i don't know if i like it, but i think of it as a spiritual landscape applicable to my life. i did not put brush to paper intending to make this picture but certain things like a coffin, a turtle, a pregnant woman, appeared to my eyes and i tried to pursue them to the point that they would also be visible to persons viewing the paper. i don't know if i was at all successful.

anyhow. after wrecking my car yesterday i have spent the greater part of my waking hours pursuing music and making sure it was on both of my computers. then i spent about 45 min. or an hour this morning ostensibly playing video poker, but to be completely and brutally honest what i was really doing was the DREAD:

self pity. goddam i hate that; i fight it too. this morning it was mixed with a big ol' dose of self hatred. cause that fucking wreck was my fault and it's bad news for us. and the book, the book!

so, i am working on the book...the file that i am putting into submission shape [double spacing the text] is at 234 pages this morning, and when i post this i will commence a serious search of the hidden spots in my bedroom where the vital untranscribed chapter is hidden.

then i will transcribe it. that's why i was at the quotation page this morning. it was for the book. :)

no, really. don't hate me. i'll try not to as well, and the feeling sorry for myself? man i never spend appreciable lengths of time in that sucky feeling, just one step from hopeless. i have hope yet and reasons for it even.

so - that's the scoop. A DEMOCRAT FOR PRESIDENT IN 2004

Virgo Style:
cerebral Virgos are compelled to impose onto their
bender . their famously fussy quest for purity
could lead to drinking less than other signs,
sure -- but it could also lead to drinking
booze neat, to sucking down organic wine or
just to brand loyalty. they rarely get sully
shellacked -- but oh! when they do! Virgos
controlled by the intellect, but there's an
unbridled beast lurking within, and they let it
loose when walloped. its dead sexy (and
supriseingly unsloppy). as every virgo friend
should declare, 'im going to drink myself into
a low level of inteligence tonight' a toast to
the subgenuis IQ

Alcohoroscopes MRK 2- the stars and your drinking style
brought to you by Quizilla

Thursday, March 04, 2004
the death of mormor

me taking a picture of the back glass of my 1981 volvo station wagon, Mormor. my brother gave her to me after i totaled my friend bobby's dodge in december 2000. she had over 320,000 original miles and was never wrecked.

until i pulled out of my driveway this morning.

i'm sorry, jim. and sorry mormor. i'm also out of a car, slightly injured, highly stressed, and pretty much of a fuck up.

but it's small potatoes, right? it's a thing. just a thing. if i can lose my girl and keep on going, surely we can all lose mormor and continue to carry on.

just - sigh. too much disaster in this life of mine.

kara's prose poem to the end of last month is so good:
I will step out of February today - and bundle it up with straps of solar burlap, to extinguish the gray cast. Let e v e r y detail vanish except its core. It might be useful. Like red hearts of construction paper that splash face up in the middle of a puddle, or the pools of water that fill letters carved with a stick in wet cement. Dick loves Jane. God, let some semblance of light seep in! Even the smiling faces on magazines distort in the rain - sneering at me as I turn back to catch a glimpse of the Sun on a curve of wooden fence. Stranded I watch, like a magnet, waiting for a change in direction.

i shoulda blogged it then, but just read it right now. lovely, space tramp!

Tuesday, March 02, 2004
it worked!

On Tue, 02 Mar 2004 11:02:31 -0800, "andy zask" wrote:

> > sorry mom, i keep getting distracted. every day, i get this image of you with a new york accent going "andy, call your motha!" but there's always something that gets in the way. usually something lame and worthless, but still a distraction. like video games. or science fiction books. or these weird kids at my barracks that i hang out with(why do i always have weird friends?). i like that paul simon song you sent, i think ill send it to some kids that dont write to me as often as they
> > very melodramatic, i like it. but if it makes you feel any better, i also ignore a lot of the other voices my conscience (sp?) puts in my head. like, "you should go running," or "you shouldn't smoke so much," or "you shouldn't play counter-strike tonight." there's no malice involved, i dont want you to suffer, its just that the payphone and smoke deck
are in opposite directions, and while youre my mother and youll love me no matter what i do, my nicotine addiction is much less forgiving.
> > so, im gonna go take a ride on a little boat sometime soon. fun, fun. ill get to take pictures and write a story about it,
too. well, the story wont be so much about that one boat ride as it will boat rides in general. or rather, boats in general. small boats specifically, in general. yeah. ive said the word "general" so many times the letters have lost all meaning.
> > just as well, in my line of work "admiral" wears the pants. but then, you cant say "in admiral" the way you can say "in
general." im sorry, ive got this friend now you will turn anything into a pun and twist anybody's words just to watch them get pissed ("pissed? pissed your pants? oh man, thats embarassing," e.g.). ive been shopping for a muzzle for him. but in the meantime, its rubbing off on me and i feel the need to make stupid jokes constantly. that bastard.
> > so, ill keep telling myself to call you, and then you can keep telling me to call you, and eventually, ill listen to one or both of us.

> > i love you, take care.
> > Andy

Monday, March 01, 2004
email to my sailor son, 03-01-04
Simon & Garfunkel - Why Don't You Write Me

P. Simon, 1969
Why don't you write me
I'm out in the jungle
I'm hungry to hear you
Send me a card
I am waiting so hard
To be near you

Why don't you write?
Something is wrong
And I know I got to be there
Maybe I'm lost
But I can't make the cost
Of the airfare

Tell me why, why, why
Tell me why, why, why

Why don't you write me
A letter would brighten
My loneliest evening
Mail it today
If it's only to say
That you're leaving me

Monday morning, sitting in the sun
Hoping and wishing for the mail to come
Tuesday, never got a word
Wednesday, Thursday, ain't no sign
Drank half a bottle of iodine
Friday, woe is me
Gonna hang my body from the highest tree
Why don't you write me?

in unrelated news, my blog's visits passed the 10,000 mark. it took, mmmmm....less than three years? in the words of sally field, "you like me! you really like me!"

hehehe...well, some of ya do. many, many thanks.

Who am i, what am i
A picture's worth

moon phases

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I stand on the sand, and I'm rocking grief to sleep in my arms.

Poetry roll
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