← BACK TO BLOG

fear and loathing

i think no one is reading this blog anymore, all of these long late night posts of extreme abject honesty. friendster keeps telling me to upgrade so i can see how many people read it, but i want to be able to stay honest, and that requires a belief that only i read it, and maybe one or two others here and there…

so you know how days pile up such that you reach the end with a whole different understanding of the world? or at least, your immediate history?

i facilitated the opening plenary of the young democratic socialists conference, we talked about change and katrina and power and stuff. i constantly contend with being a socialist at heart, but not seeing the pragmatic steps from that ideology to change. but a good conversation happened, with smart people, deep people, and the conference continues all weekend – holla if you’re interested in details, or come through 351 18th st tomorrow.

but that’s not what shook me.

what shook me was dinner with an old friend where we finally debriefed a period of time that was dark and dangerous for both of us. i have spent years not thinking about the reasons for our behavior, and that of others, during that time, while simultaneously trying to grow in my relationships with them and myself to a better place. it wasn’t that deep…but of course it was…

for reasons i may never understand, probably stemming from my own little history of trauma and madness, i seem to be drawn to only children raised by one parent, or at least one ‘sane’ parent, often abused or neglected or both. i spent the evening with one of those children, and the discussion was so illuminating, we spoke directly to the results of that sort of childhood.

to be naive, as i have been generally in dealing with a lot of folks, is to open yourself to forwarded abuse, to capture in your heart the bruises and lies, to have to contend with loving someone who may fundamentally be unable to return it without malice or distrust or scheming, someone who doesn’t aim to be that way, but when pride is the thing you have left, you protect it with your whole being. and for the naive kid who came from a family which, while it had its dysfunctions, was built on a foundation of acceptance and love and escape from the shit of the world…its such a hard thing to understand, to see and love someone amazing who has no real capacity to love and be honest with him/herself…

on the trip home the trains were all late and people were antsy and loud and waiting and my ipod shuffle is broken for a minute so i had to hear it all. this fratboyish type, talking to a giggly graceless girl, said…’i mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend in the world, but he’s a goddamn russian fucking shitty cocksuckin asshole; i can’t understand half of what he says to me – i just smile and nod. i mean i’ve never seen him act so civilized – he must like you.’ and she giggled. this overheard comment threw my night’s conversation into sharp relief. i have loved and given much time to some assholes. its no laughing matter. as i get older i begin to respect assholishness, to see it in myself and call it boundaries, reality checks, etc. 

i think i am mostly past the phase of my life where i smile and nod, even giggle my way through it. anyway, people, even assholes, aren’t disposable – my love doesn’t allow that. but i remember i used to giggle in fear, while my whole body shook in panic, at the mercy of people i loved and feared. can you loathe while you love? i, knowing no danger, was going through a phase in which i would get high and entertain a room by deconstructing people’s ‘cool’. perhaps because i didn’t have the same pride, jealousy, anger to contend with, i thought it harmless. so wrong. sitting and talking with someone who you have shamed, who has hurt you, and just being honest – it’s daunting.

and speaking specifically about lies and honesty, living as yourself versus the projection of yourself…avoiding lies…oh i used to lie to impress, and it was no good, left me feeling like nothing, it was bad. but i could break down and come back and change my behavior, grow up. those who have a history of childhood abuse lie to survive. its so different. how do you change that?

who talks about these things? you wanted a sexy blog but i’m on burnt-mojo hiatus 🙂 and on a friday night! i should be dancing. hmmm – maybe i just will do that. night, loved ones…