Dating Sites, An Alternative View (Art)

                                   Dating Sites                                                                                                                               
     Introduction
     Trolling for the perfect mate begins. Parading like products on sale to the right bidder; a cyber sales floor. Shelf life getting shorter, expiration dates approaching quickly;   Polish, primp, pimp;  abs, always abs;  shape, Rogaine, scalpel, moisturize, conditioner,  exercise, Viagra and condoms,  paint up the exterior;  do I look fat in this dress?  for what? To look good for who?   Most don't even like the opposite sex, or have any understanding of them;  all a masquerade, driven by the unconscious.  Who you looking for?  Do you have any idea?  Security that doesn't exist in a person that doesn't exist. What are you looking for?   Mate, partner, associate, friend, ATM machine, companion, father, dominating,  pool boy, status junky, king, punching bag, flunky, fuck buddy, hero, partner in avoidance, miracle worker, errand boy, maid, princess, repressive, rogue, Mother Teresa, shaman, salesman, baby sitter, lover, matinee idol, villian,
fool, stripper, shill, unaccountable, sucker, shallow, mother, victim, savior,  hooker.  Expectations and projections run wild.  It all has to fit a fantasy template.  It's all make believe.  Wouldn't know the perfect mate if they were standing in front of you.  How can you find out what you want when you have no idea of who you are?   Aging motivates the imperative; who wants to old and lonely? or broke?  Who the hell would want to be old if you didn't have to be?
     Honest and genuine except when it matters.  Loves fireside conversations getting drunk and bitter over a nice Merlot.  Great lover, hates sex.  Great lover, hates women;  Looking for a strong man who likes storms and long walks in the rain; oh, and puppies too;   indecisive male with  low expectation will accept anyone, but he's got to think about it;    I'm as comfortable at a black tie event as I am working on my car shirtless: (abs, always abs; note my photo).  Can't tell the difference between bad and good art, why is there a difference?  I'm a unique package, sensitive and superficial all at the same time;  self help guru looking for someone gullible enough to think he knows what he's talking about;   I'm already so happy, all I want is a man to look good and pick up the tab.  I'm already so successful and powerful, all I need is a women to fuck; and she better look good while she's doing it.  Has kids,  love kids, hates kids, wants kids, kids? Who said anything about kids? Allergic to cats, loves dogs; must own dogs; what the hell is it with the dogs?   I only drink socially, everyday;  Living life and loving it, as if I would know what that is;  Great listener, who hears nothing.  Easy going dependent looking for a mate for long  summer walks and financial security. Control freak looking for neutered male for practical tasks such as heavy lifting and paying the bills.  Coddled male looking for a mother substitute, large hips and good cook an obvious plus;  Petite and sexy borderline looking for a man to create chaos with,  professional income and a high tolerance for frustration required.  Alcoholic male needs vulnerable women as babysitter and chauffeur, constant belittlement and abuse, an added benefit, alcoholic father a real must.  Trust fund male looking for woman to play mother, must be nursing, salary negotiable.  Neutered male seeks women to hold his testicles for him.   Self hating male needs someone to be submissive to, light bondage experience helpful;   Self important intellectual seeks same for meaningless conversations and non intimate sex;  hey mate, let's avoid life together.   Brilliant professional man seeks highly codependent woman, preferably with OCD to clean, cook, wash, chauffeur obnoxious brats to play dates, and take constant beration for not doing anything well enough; solid references required.  Crack addict looking for crack dealer, will help rob and steal, references preferred; jail time a big plus.  Anorexic looking for overly compassionate man to help clean up after her.   Highly successful anesthesiologist looking for someone to pass gas with and a long moon lit drive into a bridge abutment.   Devout Christian seeks same to spend countless boring hours with in church; ability to reason unnecessary; guilt and shame provided at no extra cost.  Fun loving sociopath looking for gullible partner to control and manipulate; hilarious insanity guaranteed.  Highly successful control freak needs a mate; gotta control somebody.  Self indulgent, egocentric, narcissistic male, self proclaimed, Master of the World, looking for some needy women to buy that line of shit;   Impotent power driven lawyer seeks attractive young women to accompany on special engagements; beauty and big tits mandatory; intelligence a real minus,  payment at the conclusion of the event.  Agnostic and atheist looking for soul mate, should already be self centered and arrogant ;  All American male seeks Barbie Doll to look good and shut the fuck up, breast implants mandatory;  sexy 40 plus drama queen looking for sucker who thinks she is worth the hassle;  high maintenance perfectionist needs mate for arranging clothes, underwear and shoes, cleaning experience a plus, ability to take shit, a real plus;  Vapid professional seeks partner for catalog browsing and resentment swapping,
regular Starbucks attendee preferred, let's hate life together over a latte;   Cheerie cosmic Virgo princess seeks gentle Leo for midnight cane beatings, restraints and hot oils provided, must love cats;   Sexy bi-sexual female seeks anyone;   gentle psychopath looking for someone to stalk, high tolerance for anxiety and creepy notes a must, possibility for intermittent violence an added benefit;  I'll keep you on your toes and looking over your shoulder; references required;    lonely isolated male looking for a high bridge to jump off of or sleep under;   Sassy Jehovah's Witness looking for someone for serene mid-day walks in gang infested neighborhoods, religious insanity a priority, reading materials provided at no cost;   Victim looking for someone to blame, cause it certainly can't be me;   Fun loving cynic needs mate to be the brunt of all his jokes, sense of humor not required, trauma survivors preferred;  Resentful CPA looking for a women to do a real number on;  Remedy for getting through the day: 2 shots expresso, handful of over the counter antihistamines, half bottle of Nyquil, and a shot of Jameson; works every time; you won't have to feel a thing; repeat every 6 hours.

     Description:  Who I am.
    Smart and sassy, dirty, clever;  down to earth, I'll fuck any tradesmen out there;  secretary,  maid or cleaning lady;   power centered male suicidally unhappy with my life;  selfish;   vegetarian, won't consume animals only people;  love my kids, except when  they  don't do as I say;  looking for a man, for what?  Fit, sexy;   loves adventure, hates women;    great listener cause I have nothing to say;  confident, ambitious, slim, vegan, intellectual, classy;   Pisces, and loving it;  a little extra, compulsive exerciser, reactionary, generous, loyal;  easy to talk to until you say something I don't like;  loving the earth;  Looking for a women, for what?   Mr Wonderful or Mr. Goodbar;  catholic school girl or dominatrix, either one;  open minded explorer;  untrustworthy,  fun-loving;  simply being myself, as if I know what that is;   good heart, bad soul;   passionate, volatile,  sex addict;  slippery, poet,  dishonest , comfortable, artist, undisciplined, chaotic, borderline, sugar freak; anorexic, happy heart;   loves money, hates work;   Wiccan, and very serious about it;  obsessive; impulsive; incendiary;  visionary dreamer because reality sucks;  Nice guy, as long as it's working for me, then watch your back;   I'm all about power and control, just like the car I drive.  Big job, little cock;  willful, fat ass; crazy; rageful;   patient, until I'm not;   Prince Charming, hang around awhile, you'll find out just how charming i really am;  ambitious? that's loaded, hey?  Love to laugh, especially at you;   Ball busting career women, busting balls, doing what I was born to do!   critical; compulsive;  collector of useless things;  always approachable, but not that close;  overbearing, emotional,  Reubenesque;   loves Sushi, Thai food and small dogs;    manipulative; hurt;   looking for that special someone to do what with?  Many diverse relationships, I resent all people equally;  inflammatory;  easy to communicate with, natural ability to fake empathy;  kind, honest, depressed,  successful, controlling;  unappreciated, put upon;    smoking, no; drugs, never; drinking, all the time;   doctor shopping for pain killers;   being cool, always being cool, it's a job in itself;    happy with my life, that's why I'm so lonely;  independent and self reliant, can't be touched; suicidal;  training my son to be nice to women;  Why can't men be more like women?  Why can't men be women?  getting my boy signed to a major league baseball team, he's 7, but really talented;  always wondering why men are so stupid;   Free-spirited, getting as high as I can, as often as I can;  career girl, so you don't matter shit to her;   corporate executive, so you don't matter shit to him;  loves money and all that comes with it;  believing that shopping is a contact sport; with your daughter, a tag-team sport; volunteering for some vacuous cause I don't believe in,  but it makes me feel superior to my girl friends; shallow, curious; caring, loyal, cold hearted;   generous, when it suits me;  vacant, close minded,  unconscious;  living life fully miserably. 

  Activities:  What I am doing with my life
  Sky diving, cooking, fucking; visiting divorce lawyers; paying divorce lawyers; spending time with my family and hating every minute of it;  golfing, always golfing;   trying to fuck my secretary or hiring a new one; berating my x when ever I see him or her;  controlling my children's lives;  controlling every one's life ;  loving life, worrying about useless things;  watching Dr. Phil and Dr. Drew, then calling Dr. Feelgood;    going to Bull fights;  diving in the Bahamas;  gardening;   loves to travel, especially on someone else's dime;  planning a party, getting drunk;   doing my Kegel exercises cause these fucking kids ruined my body;    having fun with my life criticizing yours;  beating the shit out of my kids;  whining to my therapist;   making money, as much as I can, as often as I can;  spending countless hours working on  my lawn;   learning to speak French, why? oh yea, so I sound cultured;  learning to speak Spanish so I can catch my maid stealing;  shape shifting;   skinny dipping;   faking orgasms;   shooting at animals that can't shoot back;  raising my son to be terrified of women;  working on my abs, bicepts, and traps;  doing one-hitters before going into my PTA meetings;  trying to have a real orgasm;   Watching Kate Plus 8 and wishing her and John were back together even though he's such a dickhead;  Going to grad school, cause who wants to get a job;  studying Chinese, just in case;   putting on a tight halter top and going over to tennis club to show off my new tits;   living on the real edge, buying municipal bonds;  skiing, can't ski for shit, but I look hot in the outfit;  there's alot of guys with money who ski;  avoiding responsibility as much as I can;  spending money I don't have;  shark hunting off the keys;  watching porn to get an idea of what a good relationship looks like;  filing bankruptcy for the 4th time;  starving myself every third day;  berating a coworker;  practicing the perfect moan or sigh for getting what I want;  bitching;  trying to avoid my 3rd DUI conviction;  looking for the best deal on a hybrid;  locking my doors, locking my windows, locking my doors, locking my, oh shit, did I lock the doors?  trying to avoid serious venereal disease;  saving up for breast implants, the bigger, the better;  shopping for a used stripper pole; blaming, hiding, ducking, avoiding all responsibility;  conducting a symphony, cause that's how much money I have;  measuring all my friends husbands;  surfing the net;  cheating my expense account;
eating, always too much;  loves garage sales, buying someone else's shit and hoarding it, now it's my shit;   bitching oh, did I say that already;    reading O and People and feeling well informed, cause that's the real truth;   living with great style on credit cards;  learning to play piano;  staying one step ahead of the IRS; dreaming about a lover that doesn't exist;   Reading Beverly DeAngelis to find out why men are such assholes and always wrong;   Reading Maxim to find out if there is an early warning device for sensing a women's period;    Mars and Venus, God's cruel joke;   Trying to make men more intimate, as if you would know what to do with them if they were;   Drinking, my favorite pastime; watching people get drunk and argue, my second favorite pastime;  spending time hating my wife;  going to my Pilate's class;  watching dogfights; constantly criticzing my children;   working off that 1/2 pound I put on over the holidays;  smoking pot with my son, he gets the best pot;  washing my hands 40 times a day;   fist fighting;  practicing yoga;  taking anti-depressants;  buying a gun;  meditate on how I can get the world to do what I want;   looking to purchase a chocolate factory;  getting a tattoo that I'm going to regret next week;   full day, goes from caffeine to Valium, and back again;  spending time hating my husband;  working on a phony disability claim;  enjoying getting people fired at work;  working on my self loathing and inviting others to do so as well;  spending countless hours pretending I know what I'm doing;   taking self defense;   Reading Playboy for the articles, they got articles?  learning to speak Polish so I can yell at my cleaning service more effectively;  Riding my Harley trying to pick up fat women, cause they look so good on the back of a Harley;   searching through the garbage at my clinic looking for used hypodermics;    mood levelers after reading the daily reflection;  living life to the fullest, as if I would know what that is;  having fun being single because no one can live with me;  enjoying my solitude, if it wasn't so damn lonely;  on the go, creating chaos somewhere else;  enriching my life with unreal expectation; spending money I don't have;  entertaining people I dislike so they won't dislike me as much;  being a martyr;  buying a new vibrator;  Watching HSN dreaming about another knockoff handbag from China;  Man seeking women to marry down with;  fucking the pool boy;  lording over subordinates;  blowing my son's prof for his grades;  reading romance novels;  being a better person;  being a perfect person;  blowing anyone for anything;  buying another gun and teaching my wife how to use it (not a good idea);   hustling as many women as I can, wherever I can;   playing the victim;  going to the gym, cause I'm all about the abs;  chanting;   having my toupee fitted and picking up my new Corvette;   spending endless hours at the mall buying useless things in order to make my friends jealous; praying that one day, men will finally change;   watching porn, where the real women are;  downloading useless crap illegally;  refilling my Viagra script;   wishing for a life that didn't look so much like hell;  donating half my salary to PETA;   knitting, I haven't figured out why yet;    buying a luxury car every year and painting a penis on the side;  over tipping hillbilly waitresses;  acting like I'm happy;  juggling credit card due dates;  having fun inviting the girls over and ripping one of them a new asshole as soon as she leaves;  great fun obsessing for hours over a gift for someone I hate;  going to job I can't stand;  writing my novel;  scheduling my cruise dates;  climbing Mt. Everest;  storing my furs;  starting my prostitution business.

      Looking For: 
      A lady, a gentleman;  ambitious but controllable;  good man, but who wants a good man?  someone to share my bitterness and bills with;  love his bratty children, hate mine;  meaningful relationship, whatever the hell that is;  partner to share what with?  Guys who like girls, good place to start;  Girls who like guys, natural enough;  girls who like girls, even better;   Partner for long or short term dating or just good old fashioned meaningless fucking;   successful diva seeks sycophant;   A nice guy, who are you shitting?  Nice girl?  A lady in public and a whore in bed, if you're lucky;   someone to avoid life with;  good hearted professional killer;  narcissist looking for someone just like him;   loves people, hates guacamole; hates people, loves guacamole;  someone to pretend with;  someone who accepts abuse;  guilt ridden, guilt driven;   intellectually vacant preferred;  must love dogs, insanity, worry, neurosis, chaos, abuse;   please no pictures with your shirt off;   suspicious of a man who likes cats;  heartless to the core;  unemotional, a mandatory quality;  someone to hurt;  What kind of car do you drive?  Someone to come home to, if it was only that easy;  Someone to be with, as if that would solve all my problems;   someone who administers abuse;  someone to accept blame;  someone to betray;  someone to cry over;   Mr. Right, Ms.Wrong;   pimp with the heart of gold;  good looking with a great body ok, but money, real nice;  kind, hateful, generous, loving, stupid, helpful, weak, asleep;  overbearing and demanding mother or father always preferred;   please no pictures if you are fat or ugly;  someone to be lonely with;   What kind of car was that again?   great tits with limited intelligence;  married women looking for a married man to pretend affection with;  married man looking for a married women to fuck and act like he cares;   criminal seeking victim for new crime scene, must have car;  toxic male in need of mate for constant admiration and fawning;   looking for someone to kick in the balls or slap in the face, either one, but balls preferred, it hurts more;   a partner in life for romantic getaways to watch sunsets and sunrises, wouldn't that be nice;  someone to be unhappy with; looking for a handsome Black man to see if the stories are true;  send me a wink if you think you can handle me;  Buddhist practitioner seeks someone to not exist with;  I mean you only have one life, why be here for it.   Sex addict in need of partner for indiscriminate and lonely sex, desire to avoid self preferred, transportation available; let's have fun getting away from ourselves;  seeking a women with alot of money;  light hearted depressive seeks untreated bi-polar, so I can be happy at least half the time.  Wondering if once my wife will tell me I'm right; and a good man.  Wondering if once my husband will tell me I'm smart; and a real women.
     Grand parade of the cosmically unconscious.


    Looking for a mate that matches my pain; or one that will allow me to avoid it.
    It's about the human condition and the loneliness that comes with it.   What do we do with that?  How do we create meaningful relationships?  Are they really that important?  I believe they are.  How do we escape isolation?  How do we fundamentally reach one another?  What does love really mean?  How do we become more loving?  Is that the real goal of this life?  I think it is.
    Can't find you until I find me.  I need to figure out how to do that and where to go to look for me.  That's the real journey we are taking.  The path towards self knowledge and truth  is the path to the spiritual enlightenment, personal acceptance and the place of communion with our humanity that we seek;  thus a place of communion in all our relationships as well.  The more truth we face, the better our relationships will become.   In that quest for truth,  the experience of the present moment and the reality of God is also found.   It is the only journey that is fulfilling and leads to a true wholeness; it is also the place where all intimate relationship is realized.   No one can do it for us.   It is a lofty endeavour, but worth the effort.   Good luck,  God's speed.
                               Yours in kinship
                                                          Mike C.

  

Evil (Art)

     The scene viewed from outside, out of mind, out of body, out of the barest humanity, out of any meager compassion.  The child's psyche removes itself, unable to stay inside any longer.  High up in the corner of the room, looking down upon himself and the spectacle about to begin.   The boy being transformed to an alien form of carnal evil.  Bent over; soft, supple, like a promise of spring; the opening, a feminine invitation.    Any real comprehension of the magnitude of such a mutated reality is impossible  to contain.  Such sacrilege so incredible and overwhelming, it cloaks all perception immediately; deadens all feeling; numb, stolid, hypnotized.  The terrified boy sees the prelude to invasion through distorted lenses; a carnival mirror.   This most vile of human indignities, grotesque, disfigured; a  bizarre deformity;  a staggering desecration against all humanity.  What motive? Why?  This isn't real!  This can't be happening! Feelings become frenzied, anxious, colliding,  looking for any escape.  Saving any fragment of wholeness becomes the ultimate priority.  Cornered like an animal, consumed with panic.  His consciousness senses  a psychic opening and flees, it rushes to the brink of its very existence,  into vacant exile.  The soul struggles to save the self,  grasping, like a mother being forcibly separated from her only child, but to no avail.  The fate already decided, resigned to the departure, the soul moans an anguished final good-bye to its reflection.  Will we ever be together again?  The blade of betrayal, cleaves the soul from the self in one brutal motion; the pain crystalline in intensity and elemental in depth; that pain to be perpetual in duration.   The umbilical of human wholeness and sanity is about to be severed.  

     The diabolical penetration begins. No kindness, gentleness or affection  present.  The onslaught, ruthless and barbaric in ferocity;  the air thick with the putrid odor of sweat and formented alcohol.  The apparition rides with such tremendous initial fury, the child screams out.  Is there someone,  anyone within compassion's earshot to provide any measure of sanctuary?  No respite of relief forthcoming.  Quickly gagged, neutered; silent screams begin; soul deadening submission, the total surrender and acquiescence of the perfect victim.   Each thrust more powerful than the one before; each more angry and filled with malice. The pain incredible and continues unabated, seemingly forever.  Impaled by a sexual weapon of hatred wielded by the demented and psychotic.  The frenzy reaches it climatic conclusion.  An absolute silence is formed and  begins its precipitous decline, settling solidly intact at the primal core of the child's innocent nature.  Resurrection from this place seems almost impossible.  What was once whole,  now shattered into multiple fragments and explosively dispersed throughout the psyche.  Each individual piece now carries the potential to awaken and ignite the demons of self deprecation with committed vehemence.  The boy forced to the feminine realm instantaneously assembles a mind space where doubt of sexual self reigns.  Nightmare and ghoulish androgony stalks the now emptied halls of his adolescent masculinity.  Self emasculating attacks will be stategically launched upon his virginal psyche with merciless intensity;  torturously realigning his emerging identity.  The ready soil of all addiction.  Where else would you go except to the solace of escape and oblivion?  The choice intuitive.  True recognition of all reality completely obscured; identity obliterated; dissociation, disconnection; mind numbing.   A lonliness emerges so complete and all encompassing as to feel like another skin.

       Sweat falls on the curve of his youthful spine; seed of the demon expectorated, within and without; immediate reminder of the corrupt deformity, complete regression to the prehistoric; and the subterraneon savagery just concluded.  A  fetid and noxious smell fills the entire room.  The spent fluid contains none of its life giving potential, now transfigured into an instrument of abduction.  The theft of all innocence, self and  vital energy from the child has just been accomplished.  Blood drains from the soft tissue forcefully pushed well beyond its intended design.  The shocking pain sequestered to a mute form; voice held suspended, locked frozen in mid air; where it would remain.  What else could be the reaction of someone being the prime target in a wanton act of dispicable and purposeful evil.   Unfathomable in comprehension.  There's no name for the type of injustice the outrage of molestation brings upon a child.  Constant and  titanic in negative effect and degree.  There's no punishment that comes close to fitting the crime.  The suffering is continual and touches every aspect of  life.  Recovery is horrifyingly painful, spiritually arduous and maddeningly frustrating; requiring years to accomplish;  and there's always a nagging sense that it won't work; I'll never be whole again.  I'll never laugh again.

    The boys memory solidified, held in place by the brick and mortar of personal shame and the disfigured identity with the perpetrator;  all but guaranteeing his perfect silence forever.   The automatic transfer of the perpetrators shame to the victim is sad beyond any understanding.  How exceedingly cruel and outrageous is that situation.  The irony is so stark and offensive.  The innocent victim believes it is his fault.  Somehow he caused or deserved it;  and he will remain quiet because of that.   Makes you want to cry.

     Spent animal exhaustion, the beast reassembles itself; the transfer of self hate concluded.  He staggers backwards, in drunken unsteadiness. The boy turns, catches  the eye of the killer, they are on fire; black-red, the color of dried blood.   Even in the aftermath; no tenderness, no comfort, no consolation;  alone, so alone.  A heavy black garment of perfect darkness drapes neatly over his soul shutting out all illumination.  The child, now something much different than a boy, releases himself into the oblivion of the abyss.

The Fall and Rise (AA)

      I had my first drink, rather drunk, when I was 12 years old.   Unaware of the vital fact, that in that one   moment, I had chosen a fate that would alter and destroy, and simultaneously heal and sanctify everything in my life from then on.  In that first taste I joined in a demonic communion with the most rapacious, jealous, insistent and all consumptive spirit ever unleashed.  It whispered to me, feel pain no more and I believed its sirens call.  An elixir concocted  in hell; compact, ready to use;  a portable self sustaining evil; simply add a tortured soul for activation.  Alcohol would ultimately own me in all ways.  It would decide where I went, with whom I associated, where I worked, how I behaved, what interest I had, what I thought, and most importantly who I was as a person.  It became a perfect companion, confidant, and friend.  Loyal to me beyond any love I had known.  It soothed, cared for, motivated, denied, excused, sweet talked, softened,  and rationalized anything I did.  It never judged, scolded, or abandoned me.  It worked every time I tried it, until it didn't.

     Like the jealous lover it is,  it began to control and manipulate everything.  At first it was great.  I could acquiesce all responsibility and decisions to it,  and it always decided in my favor.   All I had to do was visit with it regularly.  That's easy enough.   What I didn't realize, until it was much too late, the payment for the services it provided, was to be my very soul.  That's what it wanted,  and it is the only currency it deals in.  This malevolent spirit began a progressive, calculated,  purposeful, and malignant attack upon my very being.  Its end game, the destruction of my life and inevitable damnation.  The slow, methodical poisoning of anything positive, worthwhile, loving or healing continued inexorably and unconsciously.  I began to watch myself do things that appalled my sense of beauty.  It began to spark a rage so powerful and volcanic as to be uncontrollable.  Mercurial in reaction, violence ready for any perceived offense, starkly unpredictable, and stunningly untrustworthy. Watch your back.  It criminalized and perverted all my behaviors.  It fostered resentment into hatred into action almost immediately in an unstoppable cascade.  It brought fear at first, then unrelenting terror.  It separated and isolated me from myself and my humanity.  I was quarantined to a loneliness so complete and all encompassing as to be indescribable.  In fact, only an alcoholic knows the utter totality of such loneliness; there's nothing like it.   I reverted to the primary animal, a wounded animal, driven by fear, survival and instinct alone.  Like the spiritual pimp that it is, alcohol demanded complete obedience; unchallengeable in its control and authority.  It ran me like the whore that I became and I was loyal to it to the last.  It forced me to give up love, respect, intellect, honor, integrity, will, affection, goals, needs, friendship, dreams, future and finally  all belief.  Whatever you need I'll give, but please don't abandon me.   I complied with all its demands throughout.  The last thing it wants, and the only thing it ever wanted,  my mortal soul.  It's all I have left.  Payment in full.  

      I know that I am slowly going insane and I have no way to hold myself any longer.  My psychic structure is fragmented and  fragile,  like a child lost in a strange place.   I sense that something is fundamentally wrong but have no idea what it is.  The awareness of my situation settles in;  my ability to continue is spent.  There is no will to go on.  It's over and I know it, and there is nothing I can do about it. I am completely oblivious to the fact that alcohol is doing this to me.  Lack of human touch and intimacy has forced me into a wilderness of unrelenting anguish. My soul is dying.  A sadness blankets me, I feel it everywhere around and within me.  The sadness of all that  loss:  loss of potential, of loving, of choice, of intimacy, of beauty, of music, of fatherhood, of laughter, of friendship, of art, of future, of self and very soon,  life.  I am 25 years old and completely resigned to the death that is at hand.  It will all be over soon.  I submissively wait, there's nothing else to do.   I hope reincarnation is true; someday I would like another chance at this. I hope God isn't too angry with me.   The final day begins. 

     This is the precipice that every alcoholic stands before.  All else either taken, lost, stolen or simply given up.  There's nothing left to loose but the self; nothing left to give.  The soul hangs in the balance.  This is where all recovery and sobriety begins.  It is the mandatory jumping off point and must be reached by every addict in order to recover.

Rise

     The final day began like any other.  Got up, went to work with my brother.  We were visited by a mutual friend, an unusual occurrence, people didn't visit work.  He came to see my brother but I now realize that he was sent there for me.   While there, I overhear a conversation between them about another friend who was doing well because of AA.  This was 33 years ago.  AA was not as well known as it is today.   The celebrity status that seems to accompany addiction was not the case in those days.  That utterance, AA, struck me at the deepest most fundamental part of my self.  It was visceral in location and crystalline in clarity. The veil over my psyche fell away,  and the truth in those two letters,  hit me with an amplified intensity.   What that truth may be I had no idea and I didn't care.  Whatever it meant, I was going to go after it.  The remaining remnants of my sanity took hold of those two letters as if they were air and I was suffocating.  I had no idea what had happened,  but the mythical point had been reached.  This is the  "moment of clarity" that mystics talk about.

     We break for lunch at a local bar and I call AA (downtown office).  A women answers and asks, "how you doin?"   "Not very well."   "Well listen,  just don't drink."  My answer, "ok."  I never thought of that.  I left my information with her and someone called me that evening, appointment set for the next day.  That night I had to go back to work.  I went to the same bar and ordered a beer; half way through I said to myself,  "hey, I told that AA lady that I wouldn't drink."   I got up, left that half beer on that bar, and walked out.  That was the last time I drank, September 15, 1977.  Believe me, I know that that half beer is still sitting there waiting for me.

     Thus began the odyssey of my life in sobriety and  recovery.  I consider alcoholics a very fortunate bunch of people but I consider myself extraordinarily gifted and fortunate above most others.  In that one phone call, I was bestowed with a singular loving grace so profound and healing as to be inexplicable. I was touched on three different levels.  In an instant I became fully aware and accepted the fact that I am an alcoholic.  Next, I was instilled with the motivation to pursue recovery, whatever the cost;  and  lastly, unbelievably, the obsession for alcohol was removed completely.  I have not met anyone who has a story as compelling as mine, especially as to the circumstances of that initial gift;  from the phone call, I was struck sober.  God truely called me that day and I listened; and you know what, I listen every day.  Cicero Frank use to say, "once I realized that God truely loved me,  what else  really mattered".   I agree. I know how lucky I am and how loving God is to me.  But you still gotta get a job.  That won't pay your bills, but  it's a beautifully warm place to start from each day.

      Alcoholism is a spiritual malady and requires a spiritual remedy.  I know that it is also emotional, intellectual and physical in nature but those will all best be served if the solution is grounded in a solid and loving spirituality.  Take that statement to heart, because it is true.

      The journey of life as a sober alcoholic is the mythic journey of all fellow travelers who seek  truth and meaning in their lives.  The great spiritual corruption that is alcoholism,  is also an opening to the fullness and happiness that is all our birthright.  God wants us to be happy and He shows us how to get there everyday. Listen up.   Alcoholism, probably the most lethal and destructive condition we could contract is also the doorway to the redemption of us as spiritual beings, and the way to a better life.  What an odd irony and strange paradox that is.  That which pursued my soul for damnation now becomes the vehicle of my santification.  Believe this, only God can weave such goodness out of such depravity.    
     This journey towards a spiritual truth is a transformation on many levels:  from thought to being;  from analysis to feeling;  from isolation to integration;  from fragmentation to wholeness; from the profane to the sacred.  This is no easy voyage.  It is not filled with fluffy light and airy breezes.  It consists of gut wrenching pain and searing revelation.  You will stand face to face with all the self hate, unworthiness and ugliness you carry.  It requires the courage and commitment of a warrior.   It forces you to open up and bleed your wounds, and they must be bled in the presence of others for the poison of shame to be released.  It is explosive in emotional expression.  You will be forced to confront and engage all the darkness you hold, and unfreeze your locked heart.  But it is the only way to own yourself as the unique, beautiful, and precious spiritual being that you are.  To own yourself fully without judgement or excuse.   It is also the only avenue to find out what your true destiny is;  it is there where your true happiness and usefulness will be found.  Where your soul lies and where it has always been, waiting for you.  Take heart.  Believe me, this is where the God you seek is found.  He will gird, carry, infuse, sooth, power, love and take care of you throughout.  That's His job. That's what He does.   So get up, suit up, show up, and shut up.  Welcome to your life.  Begin.

     The journey continues.  

                                                                Yours in kinship,

                                                                                           Mike C.

Motherhood (Art)

       Such disdain for anything masculine.  Wielding subtle weapons of cunning subterfuge.  Never outright,  obscuring real intent from exposure; strategies hidden, methods of operation unseen; obfuscation, avoidance, hypnotized, parlor tricks, spiritual narcolepsy.  Masked comfortably behind the mythology of nuturance, she unleashes emasculation so softly, so sweetly;  talons undetected, her trade honed and administered  with single minded brutality and intent.  Myriad methods of brandishing guilt at easy call; storehouse of sighs, glances, withdrawal.  Immediate isolation upon any perceived insurrection in her domain.  The maternal bond corrupted, driven by unconscious rage and perverted need, the deception goes unnoticed;  the son forever being narcotized.  Sleep deeply my little boy.
     The walking dream state gnaws incessantly; constant psychic emission.  Volcanic anger, self reprisal, skewered identity, shattered confidence, false relationships; virgin soil for obsession, addiction and self hate. Could this possibly be the real truth?  Feigned love, a daily scam consistently applied.  Stunning hypocrisy.   Unconditional love, the eternal joke.  Unheard, the chorus of laughter from bitter gods. 
     Never manifest to illumination, the surface of his soul becomes laden with feline injustice obscured from any self awareness. The goal, to assemble her ideal boy;  an empty vessel in which to pour her malignancy. Transfigure, transmute, tranquilize, create.  Sculpted by her tortured heart, paternal abuse and indifference, all completely unconscious to her.  She transfers her wound upon the innocent and unaware.
    The desired outcome: soft, pliable, docile, save for occasions where she may need to direct his instilled fury towards the target of her choice.  Nullified, neutered, open to her suggestion only.  Maleness in external form alone.
     He will marry and divorce.  Running home she will treat his wounds with the salve of impotence;  conspire to fix blame; collusion of denial;  for he can never be allowed to fix liability at her doorstep;.    This medicinal, fatally poisonous to his identity. 

    Instill in you my pain my son. Thank you for allowing me denial of it.  It's yours now my naive little boy.  How's that feel?   Sleep on, sleep on....

     Tainted maternal energy, chameleon, sweet viper, terrifyingly dangerous feline.  She slithers, malevolent attitude, malicious desire.  Sleek, smooth disarmingly secretive.  The target of her patient fury, her children's consciousness.  The soul maimed tigress patrols the fence line at the outer edges of her manipulation.  Prowling vigilance, senses sharpened, energy electric, dynamic potential ready for swift unsheathing.  Energized by anguished fear, self hate and insecurity. 

      She guards her psychic fragility with rapacious intent forever keeping any awareness from consciousness.  Her self loathing, decimated spirit, twisted needs; her real wounds, her real truth must not become known, especially to her children. A wound driven imperative.  Attack, connive, sweet talk, counterfeit sympathy, contrive affection, promote doubt, feign loving.  Applying tremendous pressure where and when needed to stop any one from glimpsing the reality she hides from herself.  If this line is breached, even momentarily, she will be forced to see herself and her true brokenness;  her venomous spirit.   This cannot happen.
               April 2001   Please read "Introduction" for explanation
                

Lost Little Girl (Art)

     Delicate, like a piece of lace; intricate, pure, perfect, only one of its kind.  She falls to earth, released from the celestial, meeting the barren soil of family with stunning impact. Cut immediately from the heard, singular abuse applied; forced exile to a stark loneliness, invasive touch without any affection; no self save for others;  identity intertwined with the ruthless.  Yet somehow the soul survives and quickly hardens to the stupor of dead feelings. She surrenders her real self and begins in earnest the construction of a walled self, a structure filled with  rage.  Her sinister birthright, decided long before, consumes her radiance and mangles her interior beauty.  Progressive and systematic assaults upon her body leave her psyche fragmented and vacant searching only for survival.    There is no relief as the malignant attraction proceeds with stupefying regularity.  This went on for years.

     She grows older and leaves the terror of her home, armed with a fiercely disfigured intention; that will never happen again; someone is going have to pay.  She moves onward, heart cloaked in the blindness of unconscious bitterness.  The only touch she has known was forced upon her; an object.  No caring, no real affection; loving has become a pitiless joke;  a fairy tale, some hollywood contrivance, unreality.   Grown into a physically attractive women, the currency she carries is her beauty, and she knows exactly what to do with it. Being fully aware of the power of her scent she learns to control and wield it;  honed resentment, coiled hatred.  She knows the object of her fury.  Men.  Now they are going to pay; and pay they will. 

     Along with her looks, she now has developed an acute sense to locate,  attract and perpetrate upon those who were also  perpetrated upon.  Of course, they also innocent, but fair game for a hunter stalking a particular type of prey; soft, vulnerable, unconsciously tuned to her particular vibration..  One that matches her pain because it is their pain as well.  She knows this intuitively and instinctively; a shared communion of anguish and abuse.   These are not perpetrators but victims of the same fate.  Finding candidates for her fury, childishly simple.  Match part A to part B.  An extremely callus preference, driven unconsciously by vengeance and desire for retribution.  Given the men, her choice stunningly bitter;  but easy pickens.  Oh, so juicy, oh, so ripe.  Automatic and inbred;   like natural selection;  nothing to it.  A natural born killer.
      The attention is focused as the target has been chosen;  light touch here and there, laughter at inane jokes, feigned sensitivity, phony concern;  the hook being set.  Now the coquettish becomes a ravenous sexual animal.  A technician of great expertise, imparting what appears to be love to the gullible and needy. For her targets are starved for such attention and drawn unaware by her sense of primal invitation..  The strategy being that they will fall in love with her and profess the same. Once this point has been reached, game over; all affection will be withdrawn, quickly and brutally; the feeling of betrayal shocking.  The victim will be left to bleed; and bleed he will.   She blithely moves on to the next target, warm in the satisfaction that a man was made to pay, and it was she who doled out that payment.   Next...
      A wounded child takes  revenge upon another wounded child; what perfect injustice.  Unconscious and asleep, her disfigured pathology such a odious savagery.  Closed to all  loving and true caring it is only her she takes retaliation against.  The wound she operates out of  poisons her being and shadows her soul.  Her heart so distant, cold and vacant; she has become an untouchable. Death by a thousand cuts;  her inflicted vengeance will ultimately destroy her;  wake up my lost little girl.  It may be too late.  Keep in mind, that beauty is fleeting, and one day vanishes. 

              April 2001   Please read "Introduction" for explanation

   

Kimmy (Art)

    Yesterday was the anniversary of my little sisters death.  I was 9 yrs old and she, almost 5.  What is unusual though,  through all the recovery and therapy that I have had I have never touched her sickness and

death; and I have been in alot of therapy.  Every year I mark her anniversary , but never allowed myself to feel my way there.  This year, for some unknown reason, is different. 
     I remember walking into the church for her funeral mass,  aware of everything but understanding nothing.  I mean what is death to any 9 year old?  For Gods sake, I didn't know what life was. The church was filled with a sorrow so deafening as to be seismic in force.  You could hear the angels wailing their despondent disapproval.   I was uneasy at being the focus of all that sadness, it seemed to rain down torrentially, drowning all things, flooding all senses with a perfect numbness.  Like a storm where you can only hear the downpour.  A storm with no relief.  I wanted to run; anywhere.  As we walked as a unit to the family pews, I saw that tiny coffin.  A symbolic outrage against the natural order of life.  This is not how things are supposed to be;  this unfathomable indignancy, outrageous unfairness.   Where is God found in such injustice?  The wasting disease that drew her to this moment.  Almost a year from diagnosis to death.  A year interspersed with false hope and cascading demoralization as the inevitable decimation of her little body went unabated; and finally her heart gave out.  My God,  how could a child understand such power arrayed against her?
     My parents never allowed us to see them cry over what happened. I know they cried, you could see the red of their eyes, and I could feel its cataclismic impact constantly.  They never thought that we may be in pain as well.  That we had lost someone we loved as well.  We had lost our only sister.  They were completely oblivious to the lives of their other children. 
     I could not come to any understanding of what I witnessed.  The pain in my family was so overwhelming and incomprehensible, like being continually beaten by an invisible object.  I had to find relief and safety somewhere.  I created an interior place of isolated solace where I could protect my heart from any future onslaught.  Smooth, comforting, unruffled, make believe.  A place where I ventured from only rarely.  Life was just too ugly and chaotic.  Stay here, it's safer; here I understand;  here I control; I can't be touched; I won't be hurt again.   My heart closed down, life extinguishing ; soul dying.  Can't feel, won't feel, why feel;  but I do feel.  I'll give up all good feelings in order not to feel so bad.
     The fallout of unresolved grief began immediately.  My parents, consumed by sorrow, shame and guilt, and no faith to transform it, began an unrelenting attack upon the surviviors.  Someone must pay,  blame needs to fixed; the weaker targets  ripe for such accountability.  Why her and not you?  How could I be at fault?  What had I done to cause this?  And yet I felt resposible in some way.  Maybe because she died instead of me.   Alcohol deadened the pain but ignited the rage.  Parents, no longer responsible functionaries, immerse themselves in drunken withdrawl, endless self berration and wallowing pity.   We 3 boys, now on our own, can no longer count on them for our human needs.  Don't trust, don't feel, and for Gods sake, don't need.  Affection elludes, love evaporates;  touch, non existent as we all die together.