Flesh
Gravity gets you down
Or Pardon my "f...."
(censored)
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Words do not have the power to express what I feel for my father. The closest I ever got was 'you bladdy fucking bastard'.
My Father always thought that I was one of those kids who would go off the rails if there wasn't someone like him to keep me on track. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
He thought I only started swearing AFTER I had left home!!!!!!!! and became involved with "BAD COMPANY " in Hillbrow. What a disappointment it must have been for him ....after he'd spent his whole life thrashing all that wholesome goodness into me....that I should turn out like THAT.....AFTER ALL THE TOYS HE BOUGHT ME!!!!!!!! Train sets, go carts, bicycles, footballs, pellet-guns.....and all the hidings I got for breaking each one of them...as kids do.
He KNEW that I would turn out bad. Oh I so pity the parents who have evil children. Look at them all running around the streets today....Yobs you call them here in England.
Criminals, rapists, druggies, car thieves......rottento the core....from birth....no matter what you do to them.
And the latest controversy shaking the adult world......that it might be wrong to smack your child.
Well, that didn't go down very well I can tell you. They were dialing their little digits off in droves. Maybe they're not smacking them HARD ENOUGH.....is the more likely reason. You gotta BEAT some beauty into them. All this psychological claptrap about children being human beings......God forgive them, they know not what they do.
It's the end of march 2001 and the stock exchange has collapsed, foot and mouth rampant, New Variant CJD has an incubation period of 20 years and maybe we've all got it, and I've finally discovered why my computers audio keeps dropping out. I've only been able to mix about 5 songs. The CD ROM driver is DOS apparently.So I've got to find a 32 bit windows driver from somewhere.
Waiting for Hannah. Just been wrapping her christmas presents...and we're recording a string quartet performing the last of Hannah's Tree song collection in her bedroom tomorrow.
Our cat has died a few months ago from unknown causes. God knows what it must be like to lose a child. Like my mother.
My little brother got hit by a truck's side view mirror when he was eleven and the apple of her eye, the hope of her dreams, a true child prodigy who was going to rescue her from a fate called the family. He was all she lived for. He was showing off on his bicycle to some of the girls at school and rode out onto the road. My dad actually measured the skid marks of the truck from the school crossing sign to the tree at the end of the block. But then he said what good would it do it wouldn't bring Billy back and I admire him for that.
Hannah's TREESONG CD (CLICK HERE) is finished and now she's on to composing her ballet. I've decided to learn 'Web site Design' because I can't stand doing this factory job anymore. It's not so much soul boringly destructive as a waste of time.
It's Sunday morning now and I'm typing because I woke up in one of my “RANTS ABOUT MY FATHER” moods. The injustice of it. That he never even realized that it was because of him that I was such a fuckup. But how could he know, he wasn't on the receiving end of his unremitting paranoia and panic. (Fear makes fascists of us all.) He only saw me getting more and more sullen....and the more he saw, the more I sore.(sorry) Men do not know that they are unlovable and that their wives live in fear of them, continually trying to placate them.
Anyway, the story of this guy (a hulking dim-eyed animal) who used to hunt me at high school with a sadistic little smirk on his neanderthal face finally came to a head one day. You see, he would never openly confront me....always hanging round, half smiling at me because he knew that I was just a loud mouthed coward and daring me to....well....one day I did. He was sitting behind me on the school bus going home, probably making snide remarks at me (although I don't think he was gifted with the power of speech). Anyway this was a farm bus which took all us yokels to a little town called Petit where our mothers would pick us up. It was about a ten mile journey. Anyway, we were hardly out of the school gates when he began flicking my ear from behind and I finally lost it and turned round and started hitting him. The pent up ferocity of my attack nearly drove him out of the window and then the bus driver stopped and ordered us BOTH off the bus even though HE had started it. Now "I" was in trouble, having spent my frenzy I was in no mood to continue the fight......but he started swinging his huge ham fists as soon as I got off the bus. I knew that he was going to kill me. It was the excuse he'd waited patiently for all these years. Well I ducked and dodged an ran....... with the whole bus watching... .and my (hopeful) girlfriend "A"and my sister and all her friends. Another Black hole in my life that I can never undo.
The only person who ever validated my fathers abuse of me, to me, was my girlfriend "A", who would never let me kiss her, only hold her hand. When we parted (because after years of frustration I found another girlfriend) she admitted that she didn't really love me, but that she had felt sorry for me. She was the only one who would speak out when my father was clipping me all over the place....and he'd go all tight lipped. "Don't you cheek me, my girl", but she'd just carry on back chatting him.
And you know what? I can't remember a word she said. I'd love to remember what she said to him. What an idiot. But then I wasn't listening at the time. I was trying not to hear HIM. It's only now after all these years that I realize she was standing up for me. At the time I thought it was her just giving him lip again. Shows you how dumb I was.
My father didn't want to send me to The Johannesburg University because it was full of reactionaries and wrong thinkers etc.
Little did he know how safe I would have been there. I couldn't think further than my own nose....thanks to him.
When I curse at drivers who cut me up, it's difficult to see that I'm (only) doing myself harm. Oh I would love to be relaxed and cool and accepting of all things as given by God who is Good, for a reason unknown to me and not take everything as a personal insult .
I go spare if I'm proved wrong . My pride is not my joy. It's not even real. Mostly it just makes me look like an arsehole. Which is why people talk behind ones back. (They are then addressing the correct part of ones anatomy.)
Fear makes fools of us all. I'm sorry to flog an old cliche to death but my point is that it is Fear that is the cause of all our troubles. It used to be called a bad conscience......or the blood guilt curse passed down from generation to generation without end. Fear (of poverty, starvation, disease, death, failure etc.) is what makes us behave without a thought for the ones we are trampling on or taking it out on or all the bad things we do and don't know (it is bad) we do, only that we are driven from the inside and can't control it and desperately need relief, release, something to make one feel something and always feeling guilty but that never stopped anyone so just put them in jail.
A bad child is the product of his environment..(please press)..not the Devil...for Gods sake.
I missed being a criminal by the skin of my fingerprints. Instead I got off with being an alcoholic and a heavy smoker. What with my kidneys and my lungs on their last legs I haven't got many more internal organs left to abuse, but I'm busy giving myself a stomach ulcer from all these Nicorrette chewing gums.
I've been 50 years old for a month now. And now that nobody cares....when I finally think I have something to say.....after all these years and after all I've been through.....no-one wants to hear the same sad old story. Well, the best I can do is add my little bit to the rest and hope it helps someone a little. (I've given up my fantasy of saving the world with my insight and understanding.)
Okay. I can't think of anything else at the moment, so I'll see you.
CHAPTER 14
The Teachings of Don Juan.
A Christian would think he was the anti-christ. No, He's just the Anti-christian. Them with their hocus pocus and pass the pennies when they should be feeding us pearls.
Heaven is real place and there are real ways of getting there...even before we die...or after we die...as Jesus demonstrated. It's no good just being good. Because we're not. You have to acknowledge that you're bad. That won't get you there either but at least it's a start. The actual MAP of the journey to heaven in the Western tradition is in the Cabala. Jesus, who was a student of the Cabala and studied under the Essenes, was what we might call today........A Sorcerer. Or in Don Juan's terms....An impeccable warrior of this world and the next.
It's not good enough just to be good. You got to know where you're going.
Now I'm really going. See you.
09-10-2006
O.K. I found the answer.
Silence your thoughts and you will become as one.
So I'm putting all this down as a way of remembering and letting go of my life. Like doing ones Psychic Accounts instead of leaving it till the last minute and letting the Big Tax Collector in the sky get hold of you. I don't want to die.
Silence your eyes.
Train your eyes to look and not to have contempt for everyone and everything you see. Look at the world and people as if it's a painting (the colors and patterns and shapes), and not as a personal affront to you.