My Daily Pontifications

Things aren't great for Bart right now. I've got a badly bleeding ulcer. I might have cancer. My mother hasn't been given long to live. The trial of my niece is coming up very soon (and I pray she's convicted).

-Bart

All of my magic...
All that I can muster...
Goes to you...

I hope you hear me.
I pray you love me.

Every morning, I stare into the mirror into my hollow eyes and convince myself to keep going.

It will improve.
It will improve.
It will improve.

I pray that medication will help Megan know happiness and relieve her stress. Nothing we've been able to do has helped in the long term, and a kid should not be so tense that anything that goes against what she wants will send her into a fit of tears, screaming, and hitting.

Keep on moving. Keep going. Don't give up.

Things got tense this weekend. The grandfather of the kids wanted to talk to them. It's been six months and we don't have the court order barring it as yet, so this jerk starts talking to one of them about the adoption and how it'll be fought and blah de blah de blah.

GOOD NEWS!

I just got confirmation from the counselor that we can deny contact! All I need now is confirmation from the prosecutor and he's cut off as per the prosecutor!

I suspect this man may become violent with my family in the event that he is denied access. I'm not sure I'll say no, but think I'll just say that they're not in for the time being.

I pray he does not come to my house. I know he's already kidnapped his own child before (thinking he was acting in the child's best interests), and I know he's a violent felon. I will do anything necessary to keep him from hurting my family. I fear this man, I fear his lack of impulse control, and I fear what will happen should he come to my home with evil intent.

Bartleby

I think I almost got robbed today.

I was loading groceries into the truck when a guy started walking toward me really fast while grabbing a screwdriver out of his back pocket and yelling 'Hey!'. I happened to be reaching up to close the lift gate of the Durango when that happened, which I believe exposed my pistol. The guy's demeanor changed instantly, and he stopped dead in his tracks and walked away. When I called the police, they thanked me and said they'd look into it ASAP.

No idea what happened from there. I was reluctant to involve myself with the guy in case he actually needed me for something legit or worse, he was trying to rob me and would freak out of confronted. I carry for self defense, but if I don't have to pull it out and use it, I'm not going to...if the threat isn't immediate, I'm not (deliberately) making it visible.

Bartleby

One last thing:

I THINK I HAVE FREAKING POISON IVY! MY HANDS ITCH LIKE MAD!

Bart

I hack, slash, and stab
But my victim is myself
We all die alone

I own not my land
The enemy is within
Supreme Court took it

A teen conceives
A baby kills a baby
Parents never knew

Guns are dangerous
Cops are for after the fact
Shoot the Intruder

Taxation is theft
Out of fear, I pay it all
IRS took my cash


NOTE: I am not depressed and plan no violence against anyone - I'm just in a weird mood and had some odd stream of consciousness writing I needed to let out. M'kay?

Bartleby

I've been doing some thinking and I feel identification with almost everyone right now. Back when I used to drink, I'd feel this way once in a while when I was on a serious bender. Now, I'm just feeling...strange. It's kinda creepy and I've got creepy thoughts going through my head.

Have you ever been alone when you're in a room full of people that all know you and care about you?

That's the way I feel the vast majority of the time.


Here's some stream of consciousness crap that I just dreamed up:

I am the sinner and the saint
I am the monster and the victim
I am all voices and all experiences

I hear the echoes of the souls of the world
Rushing up from the canyon into my ears
I experience the crush of feelings

...they all hurt...

...even the good ones...

I feel sympathy for the foulest sinner
I feel contempt for the purest saint
I hug my enemy, I hate my lover

I am the outsider, and yet...
I see you, who are so popular
I see you...left out

From now on, this blog is for my personal ramblings. My political stuff is on a new blog that shall remain anonymous.

So go post somewhere for Pete's sake!

Bart

4 years: My daddy can do anything.

7 years: My dad knows a lot, a whole lot.

8 years: My father doesn't know quite everything.

12 years: Oh, well, naturally Father doesn't know that, either.

14 years: Father? Hopelessly old-fashioned.

21 years: Oh, that man is out-of-date. What did you expect?

25 years: He knows a little bit about it, but not much.

30 years: Maybe we ought to find out what Dad thinks.

35 years: A little patience. Let's get Dad's assessment before we do anything.

50 years: I wonder what Dad would have thought about that. He was pretty smart.

60 years: My Dad knew absolutely everything!

65 years: I'd give anything if Dad were here so I could talk this over with him. I really miss that man.




Bartleby