Aug. 19th, 2005
09:43 am - Hmf.
I don't know if anyone is ever going to read this but it's no different than my furious scribblings in my little black books. I read them and think about the ridiculous shit I write.
So I haven't been doing much of anything, other than sleeping too much and being pist and frustrated nearly every waking moment (when there's one to spare) and getting jealous of all of the people I know that have lives and watching all of my friends disappear, wondering where they went, driving myself insane worrying about Annie Bananie and the Brad and anyone else who keeps edging closer to the abyss.
And yeah, it makes me pretty unfortunate that all of the people I love and adore eventually self destruct. It makes me feel sort of defective somehow. Defective and very very lonely. I've never been so lonely.....the last time...wait...nope. Never been this goddamn lonely. And I come home to a really great roomate only to barricade myself in my room and sleep until I have to get up for work. And I find myself getting annoyed at the sound of my own voice. And I find myself becoming less confrontational on the whole. I find myself avoiding things and people. I'm crawling into a cave. I just need some silence, you know? But at the same time I'm sad sad sad and just wanting to be surrounded by people that I love and who love me.
And she's leaving for Cali soon, I don't even know when and I'm afraid that she'll never come back. That she'll be buried next to Marilyn M or Mae West. That she'll end up in some hospital with an ocean view and that view's gonna be her last. Or that she'll end up in some shithole junkie motel. I want to be optimistic but I'm just afraid. It doesn't seem like the best of ideas. And although I do do do understand her reasoning, it doesn't stop my heart from seizing up in my chest at the thought of her moving a thousand miles away.
Jul. 19th, 2004
I woke up this morning pissing blood and nearly falling over from sharp pains to the kidney. Thankfully Mike called Tammie and had her escort me to the doctor's office. Unfortunately, I forgot a doctor's note so I'll have to pick that up later. Later in the evening I went over to Craig's parents house to check on the boys and to try and find out when the funeral and wake services would be held.
All I wanted to do was bury him in my arms and make him believe that it was all just a bad dream. That his best friend wasn't really being shipped home in a pine box. That Craig didn't really die, it was a mistake. It was someone else. Or maybe God fucked up and magically he shall reverse time and set things right. I couldn't do any of this so I let him put his head in my lap and played with his hair. The worst is yet to come when they finally plant him in the ground. I'll be right by Mike's side...I said to him "that's the worst and soon the hardest part will be over." When Sam died I never got the full impact until I watched them lower her in a box, into a hole. That's when I realized that it was final. They began shoveling in the dirt and it was over. I'd never see her again.
The media hounded the family all hours of the morning and night. Calls and crews of eager, prying reporters causing them more grief. Feeding on the grief. "How do you feel?" one reporter asked.
Well how in the fuck do you think they feel.
I stayed up until they went to bed, trying in any way possible to help out. They're really great loving wonderful people, they didn't deserve this. 2 more missions and he would've been out. He had over 50 days of leave saved up. They could've told him to just take them and he'd be out. Maybe he'd still be alive. Who knows. But we can't dwell on those things that we cannot change. Forward momentum. I'm going to facilitate that in any way I can.
Jul. 18th, 2004
Life is a very fragile gift that most of the world takes for granted or devalues by throwing it away as effortlessly as one might flush a toilet. I cursed God sixty ways from Sunday for his stupid choices, for choosing to allow the good and virtuous to suffer needlessly. Fuck karma. Fuck destiny. Fuck every shitty explanation anyone has ever come up with in order to soften an undeserved blow. If there is indeed some bearded wise old guy in sandals gallivanting around in the sky, to quote Al Pachino "He's a tightass, he's a sadist, he's an absentee landlord." (Not to mention a white fundamentalist republican.)
Worship that, never.
I walked into a church thinking that maybe I was wrong all of this time and that I could find a tiny pocket of comfort and hope in God's house. God hasn't spoken to me in quite some time. I felt utterly alone and may as well have been sobbing to a brick wall.
Craig loved his friends, his family and above all his country. He was sweet and honest and sincere. Not one person ever had a bad thing to say about him. Saturday morning at 9:45 am, in Iraq, God cut his strings. Shrapnel from the rocket fired at his convoy embedded itself in his head. 2 hours later, thousands of miles away from home and all of the people he loved, Craig died. He was 24. If there is indeed a God there would be no justification that he could give that would convince me that Craig's death was not in vain. He died in the name of oil refineries, the almighty dollar and greedy politicians hoarding resources and ballots. I cannot even bring myself to mouth the old cliche "everything happens for a reason." I cannot soften this blow for my boys or for myself.
Jul. 14th, 2004
Being empathic tends to fuck you over at times since you usually take on little bits of other people's pain.
My creativity has been zapped.
Jul. 13th, 2004
12:32 pm - An Honest Word For an Honest Few.
The past doesn't matter. I believe this to be true when staring into his steel grey eyes. He's so honest and straight forward that it amazes me. I've been a liar my entire life.