Thursday, December 31, 2009

Starting over in 2010

So I guess he moved in with her. I’m ok with that. I’m taking it a hell of a lot better then I ever though I would. I’ve been sad about this whole thing for so long that now I’m just “fuck it”. My girls will never call him daddy. I will always be daddy. No one can take that away from me.

Tonight I am going to Shaunna’s house to hang out with her friends and family. I will be the single guy surrounded by couples. That doesn’t bother me. I’m slowly getting used to my new single status. I’m just glad I have friends like these who do include me in their family get together.

I made a new friend recently. Her name is Laurie. She is another person I have never actually met in life. She seems like an extremely nice person and I’m glad to call her a friend.

2010
I don’t know what the New Year will bring, I’ve been in a pretty good mood the past couple days, and I hope that it carries over into the New Year. I’m not delusional; I know I’ll be down sometimes but I plan to take it in stride. I can’t change that; I don’t have to accept it. However I won’t let it get to me any more.

So that’s the theme of 2010 for me, starting over.

I’m gonna do just fine.


Wednesday, December 30, 2009

12/30/2009

12/30/2009




It’s been raining all day. I’ve been sitting at my desk watching the rain. I’ve pretty much turned my brain off today. I don’t want to think about it any more. I have the next four days off and other then doing laundry, I have no plans what so ever. I think I’ll get some movies and just relax. Just me, Molly the cat and Hawvie the plant.



Since I’ve been doing this, I made a lot of new friends. Some of them have shared their stories with me. It’s weird to think back to Junior High and remember everything you felt or thought and realize that 90% of the people felt the same way. You never are really alone. Everybody is fucked up in on way or another. Everybody is shy; everybody is awkward, some people just dealt with it better.

I had a fucked up childhood, but I wouldn’t change any of it. It made me who I am today, and I actually like myself.

Screw that. I ain't going anywhere.

Yesterday was a shock. I was shaking the whole time. Far in the back of my mind I thought, maybe she wants to get back together. I’d like to tell myself that I wouldn’t go back. I know I would. At least now I would. In a few months time, who knows?


She said she cares about me. She said she wants me to be happy, but she doesn’t feel sorry for me because I brought this on myself. And she’s right. I did bring a lot of this on my self. She was crying. She said she misses picking up the phone and talking about our day. She said she misses emailing each other stupid jokes all day long at work. She’s not blameless, she made her fair share of mistakes, but I thought all was forgiven and we were moving on. That’s why it as such a shock when she told me I needed to leave. I was blissfully unaware of anything wrong. Next time I’ll keep my eyes open.

I agreed to keep taking the Lithium. In the month or so that it takes for it to start working, I will not see my kids. It’ll be hard, but she’s right, they do not need to see me sad. It was implied that I might hurt myself with them at my house. No, never, I would never do that to them. After two aunts, an uncle and my father all killing themselves, I know what it does to a family. I may be a selfish asshole but I would never do that. Yes the thought surfaces from time to time but I’ve had those thoughts sine I was a kid. I’ve come this far without doing it and I‘m sure not going to now.

So now I have this future ahead of me. I hate to sound clichĂ©’, but the future is wide open. I’m a little frightened, so I’m just going to take baby steps for awhile. I will keep taking the meds. I will keep writing. I will try to find new friends. I will not give up. I will be happy again someday.



Tuesday, December 29, 2009

A cheery wave goodbye.

Goodbye Dawn. After our talk this afternoon I realized there is no hope for us. I have to stop missing you.I have to stop feeling sad about us. I need to move on once and for all. I'll meet somebody else some day. I will love again, but she sure is going to have to work hard to measure up to you. For the last time baby, I love you. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. We had 12 out of 13 good years, and that ain't bad.

Heres one last song for you.
Take care Dawn. You were my best friend.

First years in the ghetto

12/29/09




The mornings are still the worse. I wake up imagining her waking up next too someone else. I have a cup of coffee, get dressed and drive to work thinking about her the whole time. I get to work and I start to cheer up. Not because I’m at work, but because I am around people. They are a distraction to me.

Around 10, I start to see some of my friends online. We will chat throughout the day. She always seems to message me at the right time. It’s like she knows I need a little boost and she’ll send me a little note. Who needs antidepressants when you’ve got a friend like her.





78-83

I always felt like I was in competition with older popular kids growing up. I was fine till we moved to Rialto. Before that I already knew the better looking, better dressed kids were treated a little better then the rest of us. It wasn’t really the teachers, but the other kids. The good looking ones stuck together. The kids from the well off families stuck together. The poor kids like me and my friends stuck together. We would be the one’s whose money was stolen, our homework torn up on the way to school. It didn’t really bother me then.

We moved to Fontana first, another travel trailer in a shitty trailer park on Valley Blvd. It was summer so I didn’t have to worry about school. My dad kept telling us our house wasn’t ready yet. He said we bought a house and it was still being finished. I had to go to the bathroom outside behind the trailer.

We moved to Rialto into a house with another family from San Pedro. They had a son; I shared a room with him. We would play with his Star Wars toys. I wore his clothes. I didn’t have any of my own. We left everything in San Pedro. He was a couple inches shorter and a little fatter then me.

School started. I was the new kid who dressed funny. I was a target from the get go. I sat and played alone at recess. I ate my lunch alone. No one ever talked to me. Then I pissed my pants and that ruined it for ever.

We moved out of John’s house. We had our own house. I had my own room. There weren’t any wheels and a tow bar attached. It was a real fucking house. My bus stop was different. That’s where the popular kids let it be known that I was not accepted. One kid in particular really didn’t want me around. His name was Rich. He liked to punch me in the stomach and spit at me. The other kids laughed. I didn’t care. Fuck Rich and those assholes. I sat in the back and plotted my revenge. I never did anything, but the thoughts were there.

During Show and Tell the kids would bring interesting toys from home and show all of us. This is when I started my storytelling. I made up stories about going to far off places on my vacations. I’m pretty sure the teachers knew it was all bullshit, but the other kids ate it up.

My parents started sending me to therapy. I had to walk to his office every Wednesday after school. I walked with some kid named Mark Vander something or other. I would basically follow him. He was going the same way so why not walk together? After the third time he told me flat out he didn’t like me and I should find someone else to walk with. I walked alone after that.

The therapist would always ask if anyone was touching me in special places. He liked to ask about the books I was reading. He would tell me I just wanted to be accepted and loved. No shit. I already knew that.

After the appointments I would walk home. It took an hour and a half to walk home. It was usually dark by the time I got home. I asked my mom if she could give me a ride. She told me she was too busy taking care of my sister. I stopped going. Seven years old and walking around Rialto at night no longer appealed to me. I told my dad I didn’t want to go anymore. He agreed.

I started going to daycare after school. I was older then everyone by at least three years. It wasn’t very fun. They made me take a nap. I asked why I have to go there. I’m too busy with your sister, its better if you go, you’ll get some attention. I though about asking why she just doesn’t give me attention, but I though better of it.

Monday, December 28, 2009

What I want.

I’m tired of lying to myself.


I don’t want you to be happy.

I want you to be miserable.

I want you to wake up every morning wondering if you should just kill your self now and get it over with.

I want you to be on the verge of tears when you hear a song on the radio we both liked.

I want you to avoid going to certain restaurants and stores because we would go there together.

I want you to have to seek out new friends.

I want you to have to take anti-depressants and mood stabilizers.

I want you to look in our children’s faces and lie to them about how you feel fine.

I want you to come home everyday to a cold, dark, empty apartment and wonder “what’s the point.”

I want you to have to rebuild your life from scratch.

I want you to lye awake every night wondering where I am and being insanely jealous of who ever I am with.

I want you too suffer

I want you to feel all the pain and sadness I feel all the time.

I want you to look in the mirror and see a wasted shadow of yourself.

I hate Lithium

12/28/09




I have been taking the lithium for a week now. It seems to be doing its job of stabilizing my mood. However it seems to have stabilized me in a down mood. I can’t seem to think anything happy, everything is so dreary. I’ve gone back t not eating. I sleep even less then I did before. Everything seems to take an extra effort lately.

I don’t know if it’s still because of Dawn is on my mind constantly or all these memories catching up to me. How the fuck did I make it this far? Why didn’t I just kill myself years ago, before I had kids? It’s hard, looking at them and telling tem that daddy’s going to be OK when I feel like I am lying to them. I try to reach out to Dawn, who is basically the only person I have ever really been close to, and am told, “You’ll be fine.” I don’t know what I actually expect from her, she’s moved on and found new things. I think I just want to hear that she cares.



I’m not going to hurt myself; I’m not going to kill myself. I have to keep saying that, I’m not sure if I’m reassuring myself or everyone else.

I'm going to stop taking the Lithium.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

My first broken nose.

When I was six I wanted a skateboard for Christmas. I got it. I didn't know how to use it. I had never seen a skateboard in real life. I had seen people on TV ride them. I asked Hal what I should do.He said I think you run and jump on it and go. I set the board down in the middle of the driveway. I ran from the garage and jumped on. I missed the middle of the board and landed on the back end. It flipped up and smacked me in the face. A fat lip, two chipped teeth and my first broken nose. I ran in the house covered in blood. My mom said fuck now who hit you? I told her I fell off the skateboard. Al she said was that she knew I'd hurt my self on it. She cleaned me up and took me to the Dr. He taped up my nose and sent me on my way. When we got home my dad was there. Ever the racially sensitive one, he looked at me and said  "You got a nigger lip." The skateboard went out in the garage. I never touched it again.

You can't hide the knives.

I hardly sleep last night.  I kept having the same dream over and over. I would try to stab my self in the heart. I missed every time. My chest was full of stab wounds I had given my self. I would wake and think about it. Should I actually try it? The answer is no of course, but while half asleep I did entertain the idea. About two in the morning I decided I need to sleep and took an Ambien. I fell asleep but still had the dream.  I woke up and saw my girls asleep on the floor. What the fuck was I thinking? They knew something was wrong, they both came over and hugged me.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Return of the rat

Christmas eve.
I go to Shaunna's house for a Christmas eve party.  I'm nervous as hell. I don't like meeting new people. I get to the house and am immediately hugged by her mother. She gives me a card.  Inside is a large sum of money and a bunch of gift cards. I tell her I can not accept this gift. It's far to generous for a stranger. She refuses to take it back. Shaunna tells me I need to keep it. Shaunna introduces me to fer friends and family. Everyone is nice. Her family accepts me as one of there own. Her husband Mike and I talk for awhile about nothing at all. I meet the neighbors. I meet Mikes family. I think I meet and talked to more people last night then I have in the past three years.

Her two sons are cute as hell. The youngest took me to his room to show me his toy cars. Her oldest took apart the clothes dryer to show me how it works. I spent the night in her studio. I fell asleep around three. Woke up about 5:30. I sat and looked through our old yearbooks trying to remember people. I sat and waited till I heard someone downstairs. Sloan made coffee, Shaunna made breakfast.We said goodbye, hugged and I drove to my mom's house.

What do you do when your son you haven't seen of talked to in eight years surprises you on Christmas?
If you are my mom, you roll down the car window and shake his hand. You comment on his beard looks nice. You ask him if he made the same mistakes in his marriage that his dad did. You start bad mouthing his father who has been dead  for three years.

When your son says "Mom, it's been a long time, lets bury the hatchet and try to have a normal relationship." You say "I did nothing wrong, you ran away, you treated me like shit. You were a failure and your just lonely." You ask if you could take his picture. You stay seated in you car and take a picture through the window. You say "I'm leaving for a vacation with John, you should meet him. He's so different from your father." You then tell your son "I guess I should hug you." You get out of the car and hug him.
There is no feeling there. It felt dead. You get back in your car and drive away.

I'm not sad about it.I wasn't expecting a giant love filled reunion.
I'm not letting the actions of others dictate my mood. I'm happy today. So far it's been a hell of a Christmas.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Peer pressure

Larry and Debbie met at a place called The Tasmen Sea, a restaurant in San Pedro. Debbie was a maid or something. Larry was fresh out of the Air Force looking to get laid. They wen't on a few dates. Larry's aunt tried to tell my mother that Larry was no good, he was a looser who would take all her money and split. Debbie didn't care, she was in love with him. Larry just liked getting laid.
A few months into this, I come into the picture. What do we do? Debbie asked. Get an abortion said Larry. Debbie dedicated against that. They drove to Vegas and got married. Debbie told her parents she got married and moved out. Larry brought Debbie to his parents house in the Ridgecrest. They lived with Larry's parents till I was born. We lived in a few places before we had a place of our own.
Larry and Debbie were still young and partied with their hippie friends all the time. There were always bottles of wine and beer laying around. I would pick them up and take sips. Everyone laughed. "Look at big Verne! The little brother can party."
My uncle Ronnie would stay over on the couch,he would get drunk, pass out and piss himself on the couch. He always blamed me. For the year he was there, I would get in trouble for peeing on the couch. I had to sit in the corner and repeat the words" I will use the big boy potty"


Years later I asked each of my parents why they had me.

Larry- All my friends were getting married and having kids, I thought I should too.

Debbie- I just wanted someone to love me back,

So there you have it. I am the product of peer pressure and my mothers desire to have a puppy.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Enoch and David are assholes.

So I had all these weird dreams last night. I don't really remember any of them, but I do remember waking up rather disturbed last night.

In fourth grade Enoch stole my Destro figure.I brought it to school to show off. No one else had it yet. Enoch was poor white trash. He always had a shaved head. His mom made his clothes. He never had any food for lunch. Enoch was one of the few kids nice to me. We'd play GI Joe or with Hot Wheels. He asked if he could borrow Destro to show his parents what he wanted for Christmas. I let him take it home.
The next morning he had Destro in his pocket. I asked for it back. He told me that he lost mine and his parents bought him that one. I didn't believe him. I didn't do anything about it.

Eighth grade.
I had a black Denim jacket with blue plaid lining. I wanted that jacket for Christmas. It's the only thing I asked for. To my surprise I got it. I wore it everywhere. At that time the Miami Vice and surfer look was in at our school. Not for me. I had my black Converse all stars, jeans, black t shirts and that jacket. I wrote James Robison in big letters with black marker on the lining.
This kid named David had an older, faded coat like mine. He asked if h could borrow mine one day. He said he'd kick my ass if I didn't. Not remembering the Destro/Enoch, I gave him the jacket.
The next day he handed me his old jacket. It was a size smaller.It was faded. Verne Robison was written with an ink pen on the tag.
This isn't my jacket I told him.
Yeah it is.
He socked me in the chest and told me to shut the fuck up about it.
I threw his jacket in the trash and walked home.
I told my mother that I kept the jacket in my locker. I walked back and forth to school without a jacket the rest of the winter.
I really need to start standing up for my self.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Beach Walkers.

I went out to the beach. It's cold and windy. I was wearing shorts and i got sand blasted. I walked about a mile down the beach and sat down. For the first time in ages, I forgot everything. I didn't think about my ex, the kids, bills, the dog shit and cigarette butts everywhere, the hookers, the junkies, the gangs, the pan handlers, nothing. I completely forgot the ugliness of the city for awhile. It was nice. I want to forget everything. I don't want to be sad any more. There wasn't a single other person out there. I was alone. Listening to music in the blowing sand watching waves.
On the way back to the brown hole(my apartment) I walked through a park. There was this Mexican family eating lunch. I said hello. They all waved and said "feliz navidad". I walked back home with a smile on my face.

12/22/09

Phone rings this morning.
Hello?
"Hey" It's Dawn.
"Abby's sick so I called in sick. If she still feels bad, I won't bring her tonight."

OK, I hope she feels better.

" Whats wrong James?"
              I'm a little bummed out is all.
"Why are you bummed out?"
               I said, I don't know why, I just am.
What I want to say was
"Are you kidding? Why am I bummed out? It's certainly not because my wife left me. It's not because my life is completely upside down. It's not because I can't go to bed at night without thinking about you."

I'm trying to move on. It does get easier every day and perhaps I am being a bit mellow dramatic, but hell that was a dumb question.

Day 1.

Started the Lithium. Not a zombie yet.

I am a bit disappointed the the ex didn't bring the kids by for a surprise birthday visit.

I think I was eight. It was easter break and my mom, sister and me were going to flt to Minnesota to visit my grandparents. I hadn't seen them in years. I missed them. They were a nice escape from the crap at home.My parents didn't have a lot of money so we took the cheapest flight out there. WE had to take six different planes to get to Minnesota. Because these were a series short flights we didn't eat. All together it took 12 hours to get there.
My mother was pissed that grandma and grandpa  didn't take time off from work to visit. I didn't care, my aunt Cathrine was around and I liked her.My mom and Cathrine did not get along. Cathrine blamed my mom for taking her big brother away. My mom didn't like Cathrine because my mom was my mom and no one was good enough in her eyes.
We went everywhere in the twin cities. Different zoo's, restaurants, amusement parks, and then it got weird, My grandparents were Mormon. My mother was Catholic. I was already an eight year old atheist. I had decided around five years old that it was all fake. I would try to hold in the laughter when the old people started speaking in tongues and rolled around the floor. Anyway, All these missionaries started coming over to visit. They showed us movies, read us books. I was bored. Mom was pissed. "You people are all wrong!" she said. She started getting extremely vocal and rude to them. They were just two teenage kids trying to do what they believed in. She kept telling them they will burn for what they are doing.  Grandma stood up and told mom "Debbie, that is uncalled for.You need to knock this garbage off now."
Mom got pissed and walked out.
They pretty much left each other alone the rest of the trip.
On the day we left, grandma packed me and my sister a bunch of snack food for the trip. WE had a lay over in Salt Lake City. Mom took us to an airport lounge. My sister and I were told to sit on the bench outside the door. She went in and had a few drinks. She came out in a better mood. Shawntele and I ate our potato chips for dinner.The last flight home was eventful. Mom slept it off, Shawntele played with her doll and I read a book.
We got off the plane. Our neighbor Nancy picked us up. "Is the bastard drunk somewhere?" my mom asked.
Nancy said she'll talk about it later.
We got home and Nancy handed me a rabbit. She told me there was a cage in the backyard for it. I put the rabbit in the cage and went to my room. What the fuck was going on? Why is my neighbor handing me livestock and where is my dad? Why am I being forced to stay in my room? Turns out dad had a heart attack.  No body bothered to tell me. I found out when he got home. I asked where he was. He said he had a heart attack and was in the hospital.  That's all that was said about that.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Lithium

Lithium. They want me to take Lithium.
No fucking way. I don't want to be a zombie, I just don't want to be sad anymore. I'll deal with the sadness another way.

While walking back from the doctors office, I had one of those perfect moments I am always looking for. Walking through fallen leaves downtown on an overcast day listing to I think I can by Animal collective.



Yesterday My friends Shaunna and Sloan came out for a birthday visit. We had Chicken and waffles and went to a used bookstore. Had a couple glasses of wine and chatted. We took pictures and got to know each other.  When they left Shaunna gave me a kiss on the cheek. I waited over twenty years for that kiss. It was worth the wait.
Today is my actual birthday. I am 37. I've been through a lot of shit in my life.
I wouldn't change a thing.
I've had a blast.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

On second thought... (The Angry Blog)

No I will not watch them on Tuesday night so you can go see Geoff's band play. Is that what I am now? a babysitter so you can go have fun with Geoff? Why don't you get one of your other friends to watch them? You didn't even give the respect of a phone call. I get a text. A fucking text message.
No I am not trying to control you through the kids. I am not using them as a weapon.
Every time I start to feel better I get knocked the fuck back down again.
 Texting me and mentioning his name. Classy

Who am i kidding? Of course I'll watch them. Anything for you Dawn.

Nope. Nothing. The Purple Bottle.

 Writers block?
I'll try again later.
have a tune on me.


Friday, December 18, 2009

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Tina

1989-




Tina was beautiful. Tina was my friend. Tina was my girlfriend for a short time. She had beautiful long brown hair and big blue eyes. When she hugged you it felt like you were the only guy on earth. Her family was very progressive. She could do whatever she wanted. Her parents just wanted to see her happy. They would feed me when I would visit. They let me crash on the couch if it was getting late; they were worried about me walking home late at night.

Tina and I would write little coded messages back and forth that only we would understand. We would watch movies holding hands on the couch. It was a nice two weeks.

She broke up with me. No reason was given. I avoided her for a few months. We had a lot of mutual friends so sooner or later I would see her again. I ended up at her house for a party her parents were having for the 4th of July. We talked for hours. It was nice to be her friend.

Every one had gone home. Every time I tried to leave she would ask me to stay a little longer. We started kissing. I don’t know who initiated it but we made out like never before. Her hands were all over me. She grabbed my hand and out it in her shirt. We explored each others bodies. We had sex on the half pipe in her backyard. .



2009

Phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize. I don’t answer. I check my voice mail later. “Happy fathers day James. I love you.” It’s Tina. I call the number back. It just rings.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Disclamer.

 Nothing in this blog is made up. No tall tales here. Memory distorts over time, and no two people ever remember the same thing the same way.

A little back and forth.

12/16/2009




I honestly don’t know how much longer I can go on. I am completely broke. After paying rent, child support and bills I have about $370 to live on every month. Out of that money, I need to get gas, food and entertain my kids when they visit. I don’t buy movies, music or anything really. The only thing I bought was a camera. It’s a cheap refurbished camera and I wanted something to take pictures of my girls with. My cable is the bare minimum. No movie channels, no HD, nothing but basic channels. I keep the cable because I need some form of stimulation. I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t eat out, I don’t drink. I quit smoking; I buy the cheapest food possible. I just don’t have the money. I am stuck paying this rent I can’t really afford for another year. I grabbed the first place I could find after being told I needed to move out of my home. It was a horrible decision, but I needed to leave as soon as possible.

I’ve had to cancel my therapist appointment and my appointment to see about meds. I can’t afford to go. Christmas is coming up. My girls aren’t going to get shafted this year, but they won’t be getting much from me. And that just sucks. With everything they are going through right now, they deserve a special, magical day.



1985



At age thirteen I would get hard. All the time, for no reasons what so ever. I could count on it. Every day in math class at 9:15, there was no one there that turned me on. Mr. Nickel the teacher certainly didn’t do it. Algebra didn’t do. But sure enough 9:15 would hit and up it went.

Throughout the day this would happen. The only time it didn’t was during PE. Which is good, I was shitty enough at sports without having a boner during baseball. I was already a target and getting hard in the locker room? I would have been killed while being called a faggot. I was already being called a faggot, but the beatings would be an addition.

Towards the end of seventh grade it started to settle down. It still had a mind of its own, but it didn’t happen as much.

I discovered masturbation. I wasn’t a full on perv beating off to anything that moved, but I was thirteen and a boy. I was never going to get a girlfriend and at thirteen I certainly wasn’t going to be getting laid so what else are you going to do? I would sit up late at night watching soft core porn on cinemax with the sound turned down, get hard and go in my room. How the hell I was never caught amazes me. There wasn’t anyone in my fantasies, I kept my mind blank and did the job. Like I said, I was thirteen; I wouldn’t know what to do anyway. That settled down too, but for awhile, I was my own best friend.



Other then that I really don’t remember much of seventh grade; I mostly hung back in the pack hidden by the masses of popular kids. I would make up stories about what I did on vacations and days off from school. I told people about places I had never been to, making up the details as I went along. Things I had done with friends from out of town or uncles I didn’t really have. I wasn’t close to these people so I didn’t really care if they believed me or not. But if they smiled or laughed at on of my stories, it egged me on and the tale would get bigger and bigger. I would make reports on these fake travels in English class. I always got good grades on them. I found out later that my English teacher was friends with my mother. She asked her one day how she enjoyed going to Mexico. My mother told her that she had never been there. The jig was up. I was busted. My mother beat the crap out of me for lying to the teacher. I stopped doing fake reports after that. It was hard; my fantasy life was so much more entreating then the real thing.

To this day, nothing makes me feel as good as when someone laughs at one of my stories or smiles at something I said.

I did that.

I brought them a little happiness for a second.

It makes me feel alive.

I am such an attention whore.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Lets get the baby high.

I think I was two. It had snowed. I played in the snow. I made a snow pile and drew a face on it. I made snow angels. I threw snowballs at the horses. I got thirsty. Snow is water. I ate snow. I went in the house and got a straw. I walked along a snow bank poking my straw into it, drinking the snow. I did this for awhile. My mouth filled with a horrible flavor. I spit it out, brushed the snow away from where my straw was. On the ground with a straw sticking out of it was a pile of dog shit. I no longer eat snow.




Christmas that year I had laryngitis. My parents and grandparents were wrapping presents. They had a train. I pointed at the train and then at myself. My mom said no, that’s not mine. I got it for Christmas. Mom was a liar.



Earliest memory.



Sitting on my aunt Catherine’s bedroom floor while she played Smoke On The Water on a little record player. She was smoking weird cigarettes that she rolled herself. She stood by the window and blew the smoke outside.
After thinking it over I decided to go ahead and get back on the meds.




Thanks for all the advice. Once again, my friends are awesome.







Other then that, I got nuffin’



Later.


Monday, December 14, 2009

Ode to Grub part II

For Part one see my friend Terrances blog.Ode to Grub

Sorry Terrance, I’m hijacking your story.




Pat was a good guy. We took horrible advantage of him. He had a car and we didn’t. He had access to cigarettes and we didn’t. He was a big fat schlub with poor hygiene. We would go to his house and he’d supply us with cigarettes. He’d let us watch whatever we wanted on his TV. All he wanted was some friendship.

We would take Pat out with us. We told everyone we met that his name was Grub and that he couldn’t speak. As if on cue Pat would grunt. We were basically making fun of him to his face. The girls we met thought it was cute. They’d giggle and we’d talk. We got a few phone numbers that way.

One group of girls caught our eye. We called them the little black haired girls. Every one of them had black hair so it seemed like a good names for them. Terrance me and Grub walked up to them

Terrance introduced us to them “This is James, and this is Grub.”

Pat grunted

I said hello.

We got to talking. Pat never said a word. The girls said they were having a slumber party at one of there houses and that we should come by sometime. I asked where they live. Lisa the main girl told me I’d have to find that out on my own.

Her mom came to pick them up. We hopped in Pats car and followed. A few days later Terrance and I showed up at Lisa’s door.

More on that later.

A few months passed. Terrance and I started to like Pat, he turned out to be a pretty cool guy. Pat’s mom was convinced we were stealing from her. She told Pat he couldn’t hang around us any more.

A few more months pass. I hear a knock at Terrance’s moms’ door. I answer it. It’s Pat.

“Hey man, what’s up?” I asked.



Here is the conversation spelling and grammatical errors are in intentional.



He grabbed me by the shoulders and yelled into my face “Yo, man, why you be dissing me? Why you play me like that yo? “

“Lay off the Yo MTV raps bullshit and talk to me normally.”

“Yo man you stold my knives bitch.”

“When did you become so street Pat?”

“Yo man where’s my knives? My momma told me yo took them.”

“I don’t have you knives Pat, calm down you asshole”

“Man, fuck you bro.”



Pat walked away.

Terrance came out

“What was that all about?”

“He thinks we stole his knives, his momma told him.”

“Wanna get some lunch?”

“Sure”



We went about our day. We avoided Pat from that day on . Quite frankly he could have killed us.

Storytelling

12/14/09




I don’t know what the fuck is happening. I woke up at five this morning with the urge to end everything. I’m not going to. I just felt like I should. Maybe it’s time to go back on the meds. I don’t really want to do that either, but at least it might the highs and lows. I am tired of being extremely depressed or extremely happy. There has to be a middle ground.

I really don’t feel like being here today. I really don’t feel like being at the apartment. One more week of work then its vacation time, with the exception of one day, I will be spending the week alone, another drawback to living far away from your friends.

Last Thursday my kids had a choir concert. I went to it and sat next to Dawn, we talked and played nice, we joked around and it was like old times. It killed me a little, pretending to be happy, showing her that I can be a friend. The truth is I was miserable. You would smile at me, I’d smile back. I told you I missed you. You said I know. I put my head on your shoulder and you leaned you head on mine. We took a picture. Our last picture together. The concert was over. We hugged and went our separate ways. Our last embrace. I’m going to remember that moment forever.







1985



I had to do a book report in Mrs. Perez’s English class. I was supposed to make a poster showing my interpretation of the story. I bought the poster board. That’s as far as I went. The night before it was due I drew a boy leaning against a palm tree on it. I drew clouds and rain. I wrote across the top “Billy at Sea.” I made up an authors name. On the back we were supposed to write a summary of the story. I wrote. “Billy falls off a boat swims to an island. He makes it”

I had to get up in front of the class and give a presentation to the class on my report. I made up the story as I went along. I told them how Billy was tossed overboard for being a stowaway. How he swan to shore avoiding sharks. He collected wood and made a shelter. How he lived off crab and coconuts. He was rescued by a French fishing boat that had stopped on the island to get water. Billy got back to California and wrote his story and became a hero.

Everybody in the class loved it. They complimented my drawing. They told me that that book sounded awesome. I didn’t bother t tell anyone that I made the whole damn thing up. I got an A.

This wasn’t the first time I did this. In fifth grade I made up a book called “Driving” by Alan Zworn. I took a shoe box, painted mountains on the bottom of it. Turned the box on its side, stuck a model car in it and I had a diorama. I made up a story about driving through the Alps. I got an A.



I’m such a liar.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

12/13/2009 9 pm

That was the hardest thing I have ever done. To turn my back on you, to not look at you, to not reach out to you. This was the first time I ever saw you that I didn’t try to hug you. I didn’t even to talk to you. It fucking hurt, but I guess I need to do that. Time to walk away, time to move on to new and bigger things. I can’t say better things yet. It’s going to be a long time before I meet someone as great as you.
The other day you asked if I new anyone single. No, everyone I know is married and happy. At my age, most everyone is married. Technically, I’m still married. At I am least for a few more months anyway. How did you do it? How was it so easy for you to go back out there? You’ve got to miss me at least a little. Do you ever see something on TV and think of me? Ever hear a song and it reminds you of me?
Sometimes I think of us together again. I don’t think that will ever happen though. When I see you, you seem happy. That’s all I ever want. For you to be happy again Dawn. I still love to see your smile. I still love the way your face scrunches up when you smile. Your smile always melted my heart and now you’re melting someone else’s heart. Can he hold you like I did? Does he make you feel safe like I tried too? Don’t answer those. I really don’t want to know.
Good night Dawn.
I’m trying. I’m trying like hell.

Who loves the sun?

Bored today. No money to go anywhere. The beach is closed. I won’t be walking there. The kids don’t want to take a walk. I picked up the bass and nothing. After I sat there with it in my lap for ten minutes I put it away.
Usually when boredom sets in the dark thoughts follow. Not today, I won’t let them. I throw on my headphones and listen to music. I try to think of something to write about, but I’m drawing a blank. Everything I’ve written lately feels forced. I don’t like that. I like it better when it just flows out of my mind.
One more week of work, I have the week of Christmas off. I don’t have a clue about what to do during that time.  My first birthday and Christmas away from home, I will not let it get to me.
I’m actually hungry for the first time in days. I’ve lost 40 pounds since this whole ordeal began. None of my clothes fit me anymore. My pants hang off me. I’m swimming in my shirts and jackets. I look like I’m a little boy wearing his father’s clothes. I ripped the pocket of my favorite coat the other day. I snagged it on the file cabinet. I walked away and it just ripped the pocket off. I’ve had that coat for years. Is that another sign to move on?

The salad days.

Even when he was cranked up, I loved the big dummy. Terrance always made me laugh. We looked out for each other. I had a lot to drink and passed out on his couch. He was tweaking and decided he needed to do something to kill the time while I slept it off. I woke up and everything in the living room was hanging from the ceiling. In my morning still drunk from the night before state I couldn’t figure out how the hell I ended up upside down. He just sat there with this evil smile tapping his fingers on the armrest like a madman. I sat there wondering how the hell I slept through all the hammering.
He always gave me a place to stay when times were hard. We were so poor that all we ate for a week were Tabasco butter sandwiches. The toilet seat wasn’t attached to the toilet. When we sat we had the risk falling off. We had to use phonebook pages for toilet paper. We washed our clothes in the bathtub. When we took showers we agitated the clothes with our feet. We stunk. We had no girlfriends or money. We had no car. We walked everywhere. But we had beer. We always had beer. To hell with poverty, let’s get drunk.
We spent most of our time listing to music and sleeping. I don’t think either one of us would go back and change anything. We had fun, two poor fucks that were each others entertainment.

And so i am a writer.

Is this another silly dream, this writing? Everything I ever wanted to do I told no. When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut. I was told I was too stupid to do that. As a teenager I wanted to be a racecar driver. No, I would just kill myself.  Shut up and work at the grocery store my mom told me, lesson learned, I never set any goals. I never dreamed of a better future. I figured I was just a cog and accept it.
Now I am trying to be a writer. I figure the first step was to start calling myself a writer. So here I am a writer. It’s a new dream, but I am going to go with it. I am going to see this out. If I am successful, awesome, if I fail, at least I can say I tried.
I took the kids to an art museum yesterday. Standing at looking at works of art by Picasso and Pollock, I realized that these great men did it. They did what they love and didn’t let anybody stop them. I was inspired. I will do this. I will be successful. I will live my dream for once. I will not let anyone stop me. I will continue doing this. As long as one person likes what I do, and I can touch someone with this, I will be a success.

blah..

Whenever the girls are here I get a little sad. I know she’s out then, having fun, dancing. Someone else’s hands on my favorite dress. I really need to get over this.

Friday, December 11, 2009

How to make a first impression part II

Ed’s fiancĂ© was coming to visit him. Ed had to work. He asked me if I would pick her up and show her around Fairbanks till he got off work. Sure I said. I pick her up. We go to lunch and get some coffee. She’s nice girl. Ed’s a good guy. They are perfect together. I asked her if there is anywhere she wants to go. She says the naughty shop. That’s an odd request, but oh well if that’s where she wants to go I guess I’ll take her. We drive a half hour out of town. I pull into the parking lot of the porn store. She looks at me and says "You’ve got to be kidding. Why did you bring me here? I’m not going to tell Ed, but let’s leave.” I said “You said you wanted to go to the naughty shop.” She said “No I wanted to go to the Knotty Shop.” An Alaskan gift shop an hour out of town. I had never heard of this place. She told me not to worry that it would be our dirty little secret. That night I brought her to Ed’s. He asked her if had if she had a good time. She said “Yeah, but Jims a pervert.” She looked at me and smiled. I had to explain to Ed what happened. He laughed and gave me a beer.

Calling my self a writer. It feels good.

I changed my employment information to writer. My job is now known as the dreaded day job. That is all.

It'll be a fine day.

12/11/2009


Had a nice conversation last night. A few conversations with some new/old friends  yesterday.

Went to bed feeling good, woke feeling good. I Listened to White Denim on the way in to work. I had a cup of tea in the drizzle. It’s going to be a good day.

So far no email or text from my angry stalker, maybe she got the message. I’m looking forward to my birthday eve WAFFLE DAY celebration.

I have my girls this weekend, it’ll be rainy weekend. Maybe we’ll make cookies.



I just can’t seem to do this when I’m happy.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

We own the night.

12/10/2009




After waking up in a great mood and smiling for the past few days it happened. It’s my own fault. She came buy to pick up the kids last night. She looked at me and held her hand out. I grabbed it and squeezed. It felt good. I hugged her through the car window. I shouldn’t have taken her hand. I shouldn’t have hugged her. I woke up missing her. However it’s a little less then it used to be. Climbing out of the dark is getting easier each time. I’m not delusional; I know that this is going to take some time. I know I’m going to have good and bad times. Truthfully speaking, I am learning that life can be alright without her.



1990- 2009



Terrance, Don and I wore black. We always wore black. We wore black eyeliner. Our hair was dyed black. We wore black trench coats. We would walk the streets at night searching. I don’t know what it was we were looking for and we never found it. We would climb the rooftops of churches and stores. We would sit in the wind, silently watching the world in darkness. We would walk through the desert night watching the stars and listening to the coyotes howl in the distance. We owned the night.

Other then trespassing, we rarely broke the law. We weren’t walking the streets drunk or stoned. We weren’t looking for trouble. We were just bored. Walking made us feel better. All three of us had a rough time growing up. We each had our problems, but together we were unstoppable. We were brothers and would die for each other.

Officer Scott was convinced we were up to no good. Day or night he would find us. He would fill out Field Identification Cards on us. He searched us every time he saw us, make us lay spread eagle on the ground while he patted us down. We would have to take breathalyzer test every time he saw us. He never found anything. He was convinced that the vampire cult club as he called us would slip up one day and he would be there. Every morning he would stop me on the way to school. He seemed to get some sort of pleasure as he tore apart the contents of my brief case. I was late everyday because of him.

We learned his address, we knew he had a fear of snakes, we knew he drove his squad car home at the end of his shift. We found a dead snake in the desert. Don coiled it up and out it next to the car door. We split. I don’t know his reaction; there was no way we were going to be caught around his house.

He never gave up. Where ever we would he would be there. I was tired of this harassment. I went to my school counselor and explained what was going on. She gave me copies of my report cards and progress reports. I had a 4.0 grade average at the time. I never missed school. I was the president of the art club. I was popular with the teachers and staff. She put all of this in a file for me. She called the Chief of the police department and told him one of her best students would be coming by.

I went and met with him. I explained what was going on and gave him copies of all the papers I had with me. I told him to feel free to look up my police record. He looked and found nothing but those Field cards Officer Scott had filled out. He told me that he was sorry that all of this had happened and the he would talk to Officer Scott about it. He also told me that maybe if I didn’t dress so weird maybe the police wouldn’t stop me. His message was conform and we will like you. Scott did leave us alone after that meeting.

Don and Terrance both had jobs. I stayed in school. Terrance had his own apartment and Don stayed with his parents or his girlfriend’s house. I would crash on the floor at Terrance’s for a few weeks and move to Don’s for awhile. Whenever I got the feeling I was wearing out my welcome I’d go back to the others place. I didn’t work, just went to school. Neither one of them ever complained. They always made sure I had a place to sleep and food to eat. I don’t know why my education was so important to them back then, but I am glad they both pushed me.

I ended up graduating halfway through the year. I tried to look for work, but in a small town jobs are hard to come buy. I got tired of never knowing where I was going to sleep. I got tired of feeling like a mooch. I didn’t have the money to go to collage. I decided to join the Air Force. It didn’t seem so bad. I would get money for school and a paycheck.

While in the Air Force we drifted apart. Terrance tried to find himself; Don went off to his own adventures. They stayed close but I just drifted away. Both of them battled with drug addiction. The next time I saw them I barely recognized them. Everything I had left for them to take care of was gone. All my cd’s, my tapes and records, clothes. It had all been pawned or traded for speed. I decided I would just leave them to their own demons. I left them alone. I stayed out of it. They would get better on their own or die. It was there own decision.

They both won the battle, they both relapsed but I’m happy to say they are both clean and sober. We may not be as close as we once were, but I’m sure I’d still fight for both of them. We still consider ourselves brothers. We still own the desert night.

They are both amazingly talented. Don is an awesome artist. Terrance could be a great writer if he tried. He’s coming around, He’s very self conscious about his work, but I know he could do it. I talk to Terrance on a daily basis. I talk to Don every week or so. They are two of the strongest people I know. I am a better person for having them in my life.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Avi Buffalo

I like this song.
That is all.
<a href="http://avibuffalo.bandcamp.com/track/whats-in-it-for">What's In It For by Avi Buffalo</a>

Joanna tried to poison me.

12/09/2009




Two pairs of socks, thermals, black cargo pants, Yeasayer T-shirt, a handmade beanie and a black wool Pea Coat. That’s how I fight the cold today.



I realized last night that I am the last Robison in my family. When I am gone there will be no more. It’s not like I have an illustrious name that deserves to be carried on. I come from a long line of poor white trash. I am the only one to graduate high school. I am the only one to attend collage. I am considered the success in my family. That bar is set pretty low. Unless one of my daughters has a kid out of wedlock, I’m all there is. Maybe I’ll have a son someday.



1995



We had awesome pit tickets for Lollapalooza 1995. Sonic Youth, Pavement, the Jesus Lizard, Beck and Elastica. My wife Tamara, her brother Mike and her cousin Julie went with me. We met this couple sitting next to me. Joanna and Aaron. I thought she was cute, glasses and short hair, and a skirt. Joanna and I talked all day bonding over music. I pretty much ignored Tamara and talked to Joanna. Tamara and I were on the outs anyway so I didn’t feel too bad.

The day got hotter and hotter. The beer was flowing. The music was loud and awesome. Pavement came on. Joanna and I were the only people up front for them. That was our little moment, all alone watching Pavement together. Before Sonic Youth cam on I had a major headache. Joanna took pity on me gave me some aspirin she had in her purse. Sonic Youth hit the stage, it was crowded, Joanna and were pushed into each other a few times. Thurston Moore asked if anybody was from San Pedro. I yelled out that I was. He said then this is for you and the band launched into Tom Violence, my favorite song from them. My head was still pounding; I was getting nauseous and dizzy. A long day in the sun with no food or water was getting to me. I had to leave. Joanna said she hoped it wasn’t the poison aspirin that did it with a little evil smile. I grabbed Tamara and we went home.



About a year later Tamara and I decide to start over thinking it would fix our marriage. We moved to Las Vegas. We both got jobs; she worked in the men’s department at Robinsons. I took a job at Hot Topic. I met this girl there, we talked all day and it instantly clicked, I felt this weird sense of familiarity. I knew this girl from somewhere but where? She said I reminded her of some guy she met at a show. She said he had a Husker Du tattoo on my arm. She said I would have like him. I pulled up my sleeve to show her my arm. She was surprised. We hugged and laughed.



We became best work friends. She suggested I dye my hair pink. I did.

We have been friends ever since. We don’t talk that much anymore, we never see each other, but she is still one of my dearest and best friends. I miss her.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

I can't seem to get away from that place.

1974ish?


I had a dog. I named her puppy because I had no imagination. We were living in a trailer in the desert near a store called Buttermilk Acres. We had a goat. I don’t remember the name. I liked to bring the goat in the house with me to eat the plants. I thought it was two hot outside for my friend the goat. He needed to be cool. Come on in and play goat. It’s not fair I get to be cool and you do not. My mother went nuts. She chased the goat out and made me stand in the corner. We got rid of the goat when he would climb on top of the new car.







1987/88?



Not to sure of the year, I know I was in Rialto. I know I was going to High School number one. After my end of 9th grade high, things started going downhill again. I lost all interest in schoolwork. Mom was acting weird again. She was accusing me of stealing from her. She said I was taking rare coins from her jewelry box and pawning them for comic books. As punishment she threw all my comics away while I was in school.

However, she started letting me go to friends houses. I was allowed to actually go outside and visit people. No girls allowed and she had to meet the kids before I went to visit. She took a liking to Phil. Phil gained special status, he was actually allowed to visit at my house. He couldn’t sleep over or anything, but he could come over. I somehow ended up on the student council. I have no clue how I pulled that off.

When Phil wasn’t around I would go to Danny’s house. We would sit and talk about starting a punk band. We called ourselves The Dead Barbie Dolls. I wrote one song. Called Gidget joins the mafia. Danny would strum away on his guitar and I would scream the lyrics out.

The three of us hung out all the time. We shared a common love of punk rock and skating. No one else was our friend. No girls liked us. W pretended we didn’t care. Love isn’t punk rock. We would ditch school and walk to San Bernardino avoiding any police cars. We’d talk shit about everything. We were cooler then everyone else. We listened to better music. When we saw people kissing at school we would tell ourselves that they weren’t happy, they only thought they were. All while secretly holding secret crushes of our own.



The end of Rialto





We decided we would take the bus to the Montclair Mall. We walked around the different shops. We went to a toy store. I stuck a toy car in my pocket and left the store. While in the arcade, a cop grabbed my shoulder, he reached into my pocket and pulled out the car. He let go and I took off. Another cop grabbed my arms and held me. We were taken to the mall police dept. He said we were being held for theft. He called my mom to come and pick us up.



The ride home was silent. She dropped of Phil and Danny. She told me how embarrassed she was to have a criminal for a son. She said she wouldn’t tell Phil and Danny’s parents. I went to my room and waited for the explosion.

My door opened. “You need to Leave” is all she said. I grabbed my backpack and a coat. I walked to Phil’s house. He answered the door. I asked if I could crash there for the night. He told me no. Said it wouldn’t be a good idea. I turned to walk back home. I can’t go there I thought. I walked into San Bernardino. It was too sketchy for me. I walked back to Rialto. I ended up crashing in the old cemetery, no one there to fuck with me.

The next morning I walked to school. At least there is food there. I got there late. I didn’t see Phil or Danny.

After school I walked home. Mom wouldn’t be there for another two hours and I still had my keys. I figured I’d eat something and split. I got home and a garbage bag with all my clothes were sitting on the porch. Mom walked outside and told me to put the bag in her trunk. I climbed in the car. I asked where we were going. She didn’t say a word.

We pulled up to this house in Long Beach. Get out” She said. “This is your dad’s house, you are his problem now.” I took my bag out. She drove away.

The only problem was that my father was some hospital. He wouldn’t be out for a month.

I spent the next couple weeks out in the streets. I begged for cigarettes and change. I lived off of fried rice, camels, and coffee. I never strayed to far from Long Beach on the off chance dad would get out early. He came home one day to find a dirty smelly 16 year old on his porch. He asked me how long I had been there. I told him I didn’t know.

I got cleaned up and ate pizza. The next morning I had to take the bus back to Rialto to get my school transcripts. I ran into Phil, told him I was in Long Beach and to keep in touch. I didn’t see Danny. I glanced around for super crush. I didn’t see her. I got on my bus back to Long Beach and shut the door on them.



I went to the graduation ceremony in 1991. I just wanted to see everyone. I missed my friends and just wanted to say goodbye again. I looked for anyone I knew. I didn’t find anyone. I went to some graduation party of one of my mother’s friend’s daughters. I was miserable. I never liked these people when I went to school with them and I sure as hell didn’t like them then. I stood in the backyard smoking and drinking a beer. I left through the gate in the back and hitch hiked my way back home. This time I was certain I was done with Rialto.

My friends. A love letter to you.

I come across as “poor me” all the time. I talk about being lonely and sad, tales of youth and alienation. It’s true, I am lonely. I am sad. I lived with my family for thirteen years and am in a situation totally new to me.  But I am not alone. I have a lot of friends. I have some new friends, old friends; people I never knew were friends. Hell even Jr. High super crush is my friend. These people would do anything for me. If I need to call anyone, they will talk. If I am feeling down, they will always try to pick me up. Everyone of them has encouraged me to do this. I don't know what I would have done without your support the past few months. The fact that you like what I'm doing means so much to me. I don't think I can ever repay you guys.




Terrance, Shaunna, Carlos, Sloan, Amanda, Stacy, Don, Janna and everybody else.



Thank you all.

You guys are awesome.

Monday, December 7, 2009

One final note for the day.

DON"T FUCK THIS UP JAMES.

Larry wasn't all bad.

One thing I can say about my father was he always accepted me. I’d dye my hair pink or blue, he would laugh. It’s good to be different he’d tell me. In tenth grade I gave myself a Mohawk and died it blue. He didn’t care. As long as I went to school he was fine. I don’t think it was a matter of education, I think he just wanted me out of his hair.


He was more of a friend then a father. I would have liked a little of each. Considering the fact that some people never know both of there parents, I guess I was lucky that I had a relationship with at least on of my parents. Dad was high on his pills most of the time and overdosed a couple times. I had to call the ambulance to come get him. He had at least four different doctors supplying him prescriptions. If I couldn’t sleep he’d hand me a couple different pills and tell me to take them. I usually just tossed them out.



Every summer during Jr. High, my mom would take me to my grandma’s house and dump me off for the entire vacation. It was cool; all I did was play video games, smoke and drink coffee with my uncle. I missed my friends, I missed my super crush. Not like I would have seen her between 9th an10th grades anyway. I come back the day before school stated and it was always the same, people would ask me where I had disappeared to. Kind of a precursor to the second semester of 10th grade when mom threw me out and I basically dropped off the face of the earth. I learned later that miss super crush had asked about me.



I would sit around and listen to the radio. If I heard a song I liked grandma would give me the money to buy the tape. My mom told her not to spoil me that way. Grandma told her that I am her only grandson and she’ll do what she wanted. Which was a little different then a previous conversation, Mom called me a little asshole. Grandma told her not to ever call me that. Mom told grandma that I was her kid and she can call me whatever she wants. To prove her point, she dumped a glass of water on me.



My childhood wasn’t always shit. There were some good times. My dad used to take me and all the neighbor kids to Marineland or Knott’s berry Farm. He’d pay for all of us and we’d have fun running around the park for a day. He would get shitfaced drunk, feel guilty about it and bring me new toys.



One Christmas eve I was taking a bath with my little sister. I hated doing that. She was only one and would shit in the bathtub. My mom called up to me

“Verne! Hurry. Santa’s here.” I wrapped a towel around my waist and flew down the stairs. I saw a red leg and black boot leave the door. It wasn’t until a few years later that I realized dad didn’t show up till after Santa left and he was out of breath.

He would take me everywhere he went. If he had to take a truck to Portland, I always sat in the front seat of the diesel truck.



To end this on my usual sad note, when I was two my mom caught me picking up her cigarettes. She burnt my finger with it to teach me not to play with them. When she went back to her soap operas ( I thought she called them sew poppers) I picked up her pack and threw them in the toilet.

Aww man, that ain't cool

Rain. I hate the rain in LA. People loose there fucking minds on the road when it rains. Everybody slows to a crawl.




This morning I checked my email. It’s filled with people claiming to be her friends. They call me scum fuck liar. They say that she is happier now with him then I could ever make her. She is in love and I’ll never have her back. They claim to have read my blog. Said it’s filled with lies. If they did read this, they would know I won’t say a bad word about her. It’s all missing and pining away crap.



I know she would never do that. She is a sweet person who would never try to hurt me like that. These people took it upon themselves to try and hurt me. Mission accomplished.



I don’t know these people and I shouldn’t let it get to me. It’s still new and it stung is all.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

1977

We had this plan to make money. Joey G. would take my pocket knife and open it and lay it on the road. I would stand in the street and warn people there was a knife in the road. Bill would walk out and pick up the knife. The driver would give us a reward for saving his tires. It didn’t work that way at all. Someone yelled at me to get my dumb ass out of the road. Another person ran over my knife. It was ruined.

For fun we would sit on top of our Tonka trucks and ride them down hills.

There was an old biker guy that lived upstairs from us. He always had board games and candy for us. We would go and he would sit and watch us play Twister. When we played in the courtyard, he was always in his window watching us.

Joey G. and I were convinced that a murderer lived underneath the school. We looked into the basement every recess. We never saw this killer.

We had big brick shaped blocks in class. We were never allowed to play with those. They were there to torment us.

Once a week the class would walk to the beach and have a picnic for lunch.

Hal told me that what I saw my parents doing was called humping.

Hal’s Sister Debbie took me in the closet and asked if I knew what a French kiss was. I told her no. She put her mouth on mine and stuck her tongue in my mouth.

Debbie asked me if she sucked my wiener would pee come out. I said I don’t think so. She tried it on her little brother.  She told me the next day that nothing came out.

I wonder where Debbie learned these things. I wonder if the biker guy showed her.

I had to hold the hood of the car open so my dad could try and fix something. I got distracted and dropped it on him.

Hal, Joey G., Bill and I took some wood from a construction site. We wanted to build a clubhouse. Somebody saw us take the wood and called the police.  The cops came to our house and explained that stealing is wrong and that we could go to kids jail if we did it again.

We found a dead body in the alley on the way to school. His pockets were pulled out of his pants. His zipper was down and his dick was sticking out. He had cut on his neck. His chest had a hole in it. We were excited; we thought we were going to be on TV for finding this guy. The cops asked us a lot of questions and gave us a ride to school.

I dressed as C-3PO for Halloween. I didn’t know his name. I told my mom I wanted to be that gold robot from Star Wars. Bill’s mom made him a Luke Skywalker costume. My mom bought mine from a store. I’m not complaining, there is no way she could make me a C-3PO costume. I looked pretty shitty next to Bill though.

Joey G.’s mom dumped hot turkey juice down her legs. The ambulance took her away.  They cut away her pants. I saw her in her underwear. They were pink.

An old man fell and hit his head on a brick wall. There was blood everywhere. I told my mom. She told me not to make up stories.

I would wear Toughskins jeans and Garanimals.

I saw a fly caught in a spiders web. I sat and watched the spider eat the fly. I felt sad after that.

Me and Hall buried some hotwheels in an empty lot. The next day they were gone.

I used to eat gum off the sidewalk.

We used to stop everyday at a bait store on the way home from school. We would buy sharks teeth for ten cents.

Everybody's Happy Nowadays

I can feel myself going down again. I’ve been down so much I know the signs. I don’t want to be sad. I’ve been in a good mood for a few days now and I guess all good things come to an end. Maybe this time I won’t be as down for so long. There is a light; I just need to reach it.
It started when I went shopping. I went to the stores we used to shop at. I kept thinking I would see you there. I would turn around and there you would be. You would hug me. You would realize you still love me.
Just being my delusional self I guess.
I need to start going to other stores where I know you won’t show up. I know that someday I will run into you, and hopefully we will be happy to see each other. It won’t be awkward and weird. We will be happy for each other. You’ve moved on and started a new life already and in time I will too.
Sometimes I think I’m ready. I’ll see a girl somewhere and think that I should go talk to her. That won’t happen.  You know me; I never make the first move.
All I ever want to do anymore is try and sleep or write.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. You are never far from my mind.
I miss you today.
I hope you get to be happy someday. Then it will be my turn.

We shared a ruined moment.

This Can't Be Today
Another great phone call, I dig it.

I woke up groggy, made a pot of coffee. That fixed that right up. I packaged up a few Christmas gifts to send off. If I have your address, you will be getting something soon. I didn’t buy anything for anybody. Some people got random found crap from my apartment. Some will be getting something very special to me that I wanted them to have. Maybe they will get as much joy out of it as I did.

The first song of the day usually sets the mood for me. Today was This Can’t Be Today by The Rain Parade. A link to the song is above..

Waiting for clothes to dry, reading ask the dust by John Fante.
 Listening to this girl across from me singing to her self.
 At this moment she is the most beautiful woman in the world.
 She’s reading the ingredients on a bottle of juice she's drinking
. Every once in awhile she turns to look towards her laundry.
 I pretend she's glancing my way.
 Singing her little songs to herself.
 I go to take my clothes out of the upper dryer
 She looks my way.
 A pair of my underwear fall out, land on my head and fall to the floor.
 I had spoiled the moment again.
 She turned away.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Product of a fucked situation

This is only half finished. I'll add more later.


High School number two.

After leaving Rialto I ended up in Perris Ca, which was a bigger shit hole then Rialto was. My father had moved us into a house with a lady named Lynn he met at a mental hospital. It was a big house up on a hill with an awesome view of the valley below. She had two kids who she never mentioned. Both were over 18 and just split. The floors were all brick. There was no heat in the place. I had my own room. Really I had the whole house to my self. Dad and Lynn were never there.
Dad said as long as I go to school I could do whatever I wanted to do. I could smoke, drink, smoke pot, whatever, just as long as I went to school everyday. School was horrible. There were maybe 30 white kids in the whole place. I had knives pulled on me all the time. My Money stolen, my clothes disappeared from the gym locker. I had to wear my PE uniform all day. I got tired of having my money stolen so I started spend it on cassette tapes. I begged the front office for free lunch passes they gave out to the poor kids. Food was taken care of, but what about the knives and occasional gun jammed in my ribs? Fuck it, I said if it’s my time to go then so be it.
My math teacher brought in some guest speaker from the Nation of Islam. It was a full hour of I hate Whitey. Being the only white kid in class sucked. Every verbal attack on the white race was directed at me. After class I got the hell out of there. I didn’t want to be the victim of a beating.
I met my first real girlfriend there. Her name was Kim. She was blonde and in the senior class.  She gave me my first real kiss. I had to hide the boner I got during the kiss. She pretended not to notice. Kim was a trooper. We would make out every chance we got. She would call me up at night and ask me to come over and sleep with her. Being the oblivious ass I am, I never took her up. I thought she was trying to be funny. Kim got tired of trying and dumped me after a few months.
Some one broke into Lynn’s house. They only touched her stuff. Mine was safe, which looked rather suspicious. The police came over and took a report. They told Lynn that it was probably her drug addict son and to stop blaming me. I had my own suspicions. I thought my dad had set it up. He owed some pretty shady people a lot of money and probably told them not to touch my stuff.  Got to give it up to dad on that one.
She threw us out. We ended up in some trailer park in a 13 foot travel trailer with no electricity. Dad slept all day and all night. I just listened to tapes on my walkman. When the batteries died I stole some more. We couldn’t go to the bathroom in the place. I had to walk a block to the public showers in the camping area. My clothes reeked. We had no food. Dad had a supply of pills though.
I came home from school one day and saw two sheriffs cars parked outside. They were walking in and out of the trailer with all my things. They packed up my stuff and split. My dad didn’t come home that night. Some guy came banging on the door demanding to see Larry. I told him to fuck off, that I had a gun and would kill him if he came inside. I guess he believed me. He left.
The school year ended. Dad said he needed to go away for awhile. He gave me a hundred bucks and split. The nearest store was back in town, 13 miles away. I found the keys to his car and drove to the grocery store.
I got really bored waiting for him to come home. I took a razor blade and cut question marks into my arm. He came home and freaked out. He wanted to have me committed.
He asked if I wanted to kill myself. I told him no, I was just bored and I thought it looked neat.

In retrospect, 9th grade wasn't really that bad.

I woke up in the middle of the night. For the first time in months my mind did not turn to her. Instead I thought about the future. The new people in my life, the new adventures we may or may not have. The encouragement I am getting from one in particular. Pushing me to do something I never thought I would do. Introducing me to new things I never liked before. I’m starting to see things in a different light. Sure my life is crap right now, but it is far from over.




A lot is two words.



Mrs. Orrick hated me. I’m not exaggerating here, she really hated me. She told my mother on Parent Teacher night that she thought I was a bad seed and would never amount to anything. When my mom got home she asked me if I did anything to Mrs. Orrick to make her hate me. I said no, she’s just mean.

It was bad enough that I had to sit in her class an hour everyday, but I was an office TA and had to go collect attendance cards from her class every morning. Her door was always locked. I had to wait for someone to open the door. I would have to stand next to her desk while she took roll and filled out the card. I was told by Shaunna that I looked awkward and annoyed. I felt like the whole class was looking at me and silently laughing because every morning Verne has to stand up under the words “A Lot is two words” which she had printed on the chalkboard all year long. I tried not to make any eye contact with anyone in the room. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

There was some girl that worked in the office with me. She would sit and stare at me. It felt good but at the same time it creeped me out a little. I felt bad for her. The secretaries would tell her to stop daydreaming about James right in front of me. I blushed every time. I could only imagine how she felt.

I was given the office gig as sort of a punishment. The year before me and some friends forged a teachers name on a library pass. We had to go to the Vice Principals office. She took us in one by one. She told me that she knew I was a good kid and that she suspected that I might be having family problems at home. She said she was going to look out for me and make me work in the office the next year. I figured she was joking.

First day of ninth grade my schedule says Office TA for first period. I walked in and she said “Told you so” I learned to like working there. All the ladies there loved me. They always told how cute I was.

That started to bring me out of my shell. I guess all I needed was an ego boost. I had a girl fawning over me. Years later I found out there was another one. I started making friends. My grades were going up. I even made the honor roll. With the exception of my bully problems with Danny, life was pretty good for awhile.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Cave in

I called. I said happy birthday. She said thank you. I siad goodbye. I hung up.

Still in a good mood though. I'm beggining to see the light.

It's not all "Poor Me"

I can't seem to do this when I'm in a good mood.
Don't write what the people want. As soon as you do, you're done.

She-Deleter

Today is her birthday. I will not call, I will not write. It's the first birthday in twelve years that I will not be at her side.
Moving on.


Another cool little chat session last night.

Moving on.

I've decided to search deeper into my history. There has got to be the answers I'm looking for somewhere back there. I want to find out who I really am. I want to know what shaped me and made me the person I am today.

I'm on the guest list for a show tomorrow night. It's a plus one. I'll go alone.

My birthday present to myself this year is getting her name covered up on my arm. I will have some new/old friends with me. I like the symbolism in that.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Urban Cowboy

From age 6 to 9 my mother would make me dress in cowboy clothes for the school pictures. After that It was always polo shirts and cords.

No Age

1. Stop reading into things.


2. Accept things for what they are.

3. Remember the fact that some people actually like you just as you are.





I had a really cool chat with someone last night. The fact that they take time out of their busy life to give me a few minutes just thrills me. It’s giving me something to focus on other then memories of a failed marriage. We have this weird past, maybe spoke two or three words to each other. We almost got married in some mock wedding in 9th grade. W haven’t seen or heard from each other for almost 25 years. But when we talk it’s like we were never apart. It all comes out so easily.

Thank you for being a friend

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Don't say a word. The last one is still stinging.

Her reply

"You're doing fine."

Not really, nope. I'm a mess.

Monday, November 30, 2009

You Are Free

11/30/2009




The truth is, I getting along alright till I learned his name. Now I have a name and a face to go with these bad thoughts. I gave her a birthday present yesterday when she came to pick up the kids. Setting myself up for more pain I suppose. I really have to get out of that habit.  She had brought me some pictures of the girls and my scanner. She gave me a hug and said I was loosing too much weight. I kissed her cheek and went back inside.I called and told her she forgot the power cable to the scanner. She said she’ll bring it next time. I said good bye. I thought I heard her say I love you. I think I imagined that part.



1973



I thought my grandparents lived in the phone. I would imagine a tiny grandma yelling at the ceiling to talk to me. When we would visit I couldn’t figure out how I shrunk down to phone size. Why the road wasn’t all twisted like the phone cord?







1974



My grandparents had a ranch. They had horses, chickens, pigs and cows. I liked to run around and try to scare the animals. I would sneak into the henhouse and toss the eggs on the ground. The chickens fought each other over who got to eat it. I was fascinated by this.

They brought these crates of baby chicks home. I loved them. They would follow me around when I would go see them. I decided they needed more room. I opened up the door and they all followed me out. We walked around the ranch. We walked up to the front porch. We walked into the house.

I stood on a chair surrounded by the chicks and yelled out “I let all the baby chickens out!”

Everybody came running. They started scooping up chicks and putting them in boxes and baskets.

Granma told me “Never, ever do that again.”

It took awhile to clean up the chickens. I stood in the corner for awhile as punishment for being the great emancipator of chickens.

Grandpa solved the problem by putting a lock on the chicken coop.



Christmas 1975



I had my first cousin. I wasn’t number one anymore. I was the first grandkid, the first nephew. I had everything. Her name was Tanya. She got more then me at Christmas that year. I kicked her in the back.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Going back east. ( Dead cows and grandpa)

I had one birthday party when I was a kid. All the neighbor hood kids were there. I got a lot of Star Wars toys.  My birthday cake had Tweedy Bird. I don’t know how I ended up with that cake. I wanted a Star Wars one. I didn’t care really though. I was just happy I was having a party. My mom was pregnant with my sister at the time. It was my last hurrah.
I was excited to be having a little sister. I asked my parents how my sister got in there. Mom went to a library and checked out an extremely graphic book. She explained to me about the penis and vagina. I told all my friends about it.
My dad dropped me off at my grandma’s house. I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept thinking that the next day I will have a baby sister. I got up the next morning. We got in grandpas’ car and drove to the hospital.  I was too young to go inside. Mom’s room was on the first floor. She opened the window and held my sister to the screen. She was dark and screaming.
“That’s not my sister, that’s some Mexican baby.” I said.
My sister came home three weeks later. She was sick a lot and couldn’t eat. All she did was cry and throw up. I would hear my mom yelling at her to stop her fucking crying and just sleep.  I was scared for her. I wanted to take her and run away so she wouldn’t get hurt and yelled at.
She had a few operations. She started to eat and hold the food down. My parents decided we should take my grandma to Ohio for my great grandparent’s 50th anniversary. I don’t remember a lot of the trip. My sister throwing up every half hour or so, an electrical storm in New Mexico. I saw cows getting struck by lightening. My grandma told me not to touch anything metal in the car or I might die. I got my head stuck between the bars on a motel balcony. Dad spread the bars apart and pulled me through.
I remember my great grandparents. Andrew and Anna Kichka, they barely spoke any English. She was a tiny little woman. She just in her chair with a huge smile on her face. I sat at her feet. She put her hand on my head and sang Slavic songs to me.  It was uncomfortable, but I liked the attention. Great grandpa was a huge man. All muscle. He took me to his garden and let me pick raspberries.
I don’t know much about them. I know they left Czechoslovakia, went to Hungry and came to New York in the late 30’s. Eventually they settled in Cleveland.
In 1953 my grandma met some Ukrainian sailor and got pregnant with my mother. The sailor left. No one saw him again.
Some how she and my mom ended up in LA, I don’t know how. No one ever told me about it. I never asked about it. I figured if they wanted me to know, they would have told me.

Mr. Anthony's class

2009
 
The mornings are the worst time. I wake up imagining she is waking up in someone else’s arms. Waking up after the best night of her life, something only he can do. If I don’t get up and do something I’ll dwell on it all day long.
Her birthday is this week. Do I get her something? Something small and impersonal, or do I just say fuck it and ignore it?


1988

Danny was my own personal bully. We were friends, but one day in ninth grade he decided he needed to beat me. I’m not sure what happened. He would grab me after science class and slam me into the wall, grabbing my shirt and throwing me. I always did the same thing. I stood there. I never moved. I never spoke. He never actually hit me. He would just stick his face inches away from mine and just yell, shoving me harder into the wall.
This got to be a routine. Everyday after fourth period I would get shoved around. He’d stop and I would follow another group of bigger kids to lunch. A few months of this I started to get tired of it. I knew he wasn’t ever going to do anything. It became an inconvenience more then anything. I’d get shoved, follow the kids, go to lunch and stare at my crush for awhile. Hoping she didn’t see Danny shoving me around and thinking I’m some wimp.
He started flattening my bike tires. Everyday I would go get my bike and the tires were flat. Fuck Danny, I got on my bike and rode it home anyway. I’d patch the tires and he’d flatten them. My mom told me to tell the principal. I tried to tell her how that would make things worse.
Eventually he stopped. He got a girlfriend and started ignoring me. She was a nice girl. I couldn’t figure out what she saw in this asshole.  I guess it was that he was a bad boy.
High School started and I never saw him again.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Larry

1989

I don’t remember the last time I saw my dad. He used to just show up and take us to dinner. He would hand us a few bucks to buy something for the girls and then would disappear for a month or so.  Dawn said it best when it came to him. He has good intentions, but never follows through.
There was never any father/son bond between us. In fact I think he hugged me once. He said goodbye, hugged me and was walked into the Psych. Ward at the VA hospital in Loma Linda. I was 16, no money, no where to live. Being homeless again didn’t appeal to me. I bit the bullet and called my mom collect.
She picked me up and drove me to her house. The ride over was silent. I could tell she wanted to say something.
We got to her house. She asked if I had any clothes or bags. I told her I didn’t know. Me and dad had split the travel trailer the night before. He woke me up and said we needed to go. I didn’t have the time to grab anything.  We got in the car and he just drove around. Five or six hours later we ended up at the VA Hospital. He told them he wanted to die.
Mom told me I could have my own room back and that she would take me out to get some clothes tomorrow. It was weird being in the house again. I had been gone a little over a year and things seemed different. It wasn’t bad at first. We went to a few thrift stores and got some clothes. We went to the grocery store. She told me to get whatever I wanted.  That lasted about five days.
She made spaghetti one night. She poured us a glass of wine. You’re old enough to have a glass every now and then she said. I sat on the couch with my dinner. She sat on the chair on the other side of the living room.  She looked at me and said
“You think you can just move back in whenever you feel like it? You and your asshole father are just trying to take advantage me.”
“Quite mom, I just want to eat.”
“Fuck you. You do not ever talk to me that way.”
Her plate of spaghetti flew towards my face. I ducked to the side. Spaghetti covered the wall and the couch.
“Clean it up asshole” she said.
I went to the porch and smoked a cigarette.
 I decided I would go back to my grandma’s house in the desert.


I took the bus out there. My dad picked me up.
He said he was only in for three days.  I asked why he didn’t pick me up. He said it never occurred to him he should do that.

2006

I get a call form my cousin.
“Your dad’s dead, he killed himself.”
Way to break it to me gently asshole. I called the Coroners office in San Bernardino.
I’m calling about Larry Robison. I’m his son.
The coroner I talked to was very nice. He asked if I wanted to hear the note he left behind.
Sure.

Only a couple things stuck out in my mind. He said that he knew his grand babies would be taken care of and that he hoped to come back as a blue jay.

He killed himself in his girlfriend’s house. He took a shit load of pills, wrapped him self in a blanket and shot himself.
His girlfriend called me a few days later. She said that my father died owning her money. She wanted me to pay her the money and pay for a new couch. I told her to fuck off.
Last I ever heard of her.
I called my mother to let her know. She told me she’d dance on his grave. I hung up.
I had him cremated. I took his ashes and buried them in my grandma’s backyard. I didn’t attend the memorial service. I didn’t feel like hanging around a bunch of people that were pretending to like him.
I felt bad for my grandma. All of her kids were dead. Her husband was dead. My uncle, my dad and my aunt killed themselves. My other aunt got drunk and didn’t bother wearing a seatbelt. She died somewhere on Inyokern road, beer cans littered the area.