The Good Life

Building a goddamned log cabin!

... a log cabin for snails, worms, spiders, beetles, centipedes and other unidentifiable scary things seen only in science fiction movies...

Jason's first experience with a chainsaw, cutting the old railroad ties. As expected, his Y-chromosome kicked in and got all exhilarated by the experience.

We're also working on painting the house garland-green. Rocco is contemplating going back in the house to eat our breakfast from the Farmer's Market. He decided in favour of the idea.

I've never gotten so banged up, scratched up, bruised, sweaty and dirty. And it felt fuckin' great.

Hey, I know this guy!

(Would it be correct to interpret “Also Available as a Suppository” as “Take your Creativity™  and shove it up your ass”?)

Bloodied But Unbowed

For the first time in nearly two years, I am certain: that every action I take is right and good; that I am no longer taking action merely to survive, but to thrive; that I am slowly being released from fear, guilt, shame, and self-doubt; that the energy I am expending is no longer being wasted on trying to prevent violence but to create peace; that I can be me again, and that what I was, what I am, and what I can continue to become does not, and never did, deserve to be treated in any way that causes suffering as I define that for myself; for the first time in nearly two years I am certain that every action I take is contributing to my freedom: to think, to speak, to feel, and to make decisions that are right for me; and that as a more truly free person, I can be better to and for myself and therefore everything else there is in the world. With this statement I celebrate the first week I have not been contacted by the person who worked every day of his life with me to prevent me from being free and certain of these things. I look forward to where I might be in another week. I may not be in a better place than I am at this moment, it’s of course entirely possible I may even feel worse– recovering from trauma and abuse is a lot of very complex work. But now, at least, I know my actions are right and good– and that’s all I ever need to be sure of in myself– and that I am therefore on a path away from suffering and toward harmony.

Consuming People

I don’t understand what other people call “love.”

I love animals, for instance. And so I want to take care of them, and I enjoy deeply observing them. In my yard there are squirrels, rabbits, and about five kinds of birds who visit daily (opposums and raccoons have also been spotted but I have been unable to cultivate their presence). I make food for them or find things to give them, and I throw stuff out the window for them almost every day. I like imagining they feel excited about finding treats or something new they’ve never had before, or simply that they were hungry before and now they won’t be. I like to watch them discover it, make decisions about what to take or where to bring it. I wish they wouldn’t fight with each other about it, as they sometimes do, but I understand where they’re coming from and I know no one is going to get hurt. I like learning how they do things. For instance, if you give a squirrel something round to eat, like a cookie, they will eat it in the round, turning it like a wheel. When they cover up something they’ve buried, they pat the ground over it several times to pack the dirt down, just like people do. I like learning their habits, preferences and daily rhythms, how they’re different from people, and how they’re the same. I will stand stock still for a very long time just watching them do their thing. I would like to pet them or hold them, but I know I can’t so I just accept that they have natural fears and I have to respect that. It’s important to just let them be. I like knowing I am helping make their lives a little easier or more enjoyable, and that what I do contributes to them having and taking care of their little families. I can see they appreciate what I’ve given them, even though they haven’t a clue about where this good fortune came from. They give me a great deal of satisfaction, pleasure and even a little bit of a sense of purpose or usefulness. When I love a person, I pretty much do the same things for the same reasons and want to get the same things out of the relationship as I get from watching and taking care of the animals in the yard.

I hear people say they love music, and people who really love music seem to want to acquire as much of it as possible. They brag about how much of it they have, or how much their collection might be worth, or how much money or time they’ve invested in building their collections or in having the latest equipment or technologies for listening to it or carrying it around in their pocket. They’re especially proud if they find or own something rare, or expensive, or most trendy or whatever. They tell everyone else about what they like, they want to share it with others, and they think their tastes and media somehow reflect on who they are: you’re cool or classy or a tough guy or deep or rebellious or posi or whatever depending on what you listen to or how you listen to it. People even put great stock in choosing friends and even romantic partners based on their loving the same music. But what do all of these behaviours and attitudes surrounding music mean to people? Most are unable to say. Some people feel “connected” to whoever created the music, I suppose, but this is projection and it isn’t real. Some people are moved by something they listen to, but moved to do what? I don’t deny music is powerful, influential, can create community, political and cultural change, and even save individual lives. It also just feels good to hear something you like. I get that. There is something very critical to our existence that needs music. But for the most part, for most people in technologically advanced societies, one’s love of music is highly focused on the self, is often used to separate oneself from others– literally, as when people are plugged in and tuned out; or more generally, as when people are typed and divided by what they listen to or how– and music itself is obsessively consumed, it seems almost frantically. I love some albums I have, so much that I don’t understand: why do I need more music to love? Am I really missing out on something better if I am not in a constant search for more music? Is my experience of these albums I love really so much less than it could be if I updated how I listen to them? When is good enough good enough? When are people satisfied, when do they decide they have enough to love, or that their love of something doesn’t have to be in a constant struggle to be experienced at a higher-level, which itself is always in a state of limitless ascension– or is never being satisfied the goal? That doesn’t sound like love to me. That just sounds really hectic.

Another thing people seem to really love are their cars: some people love cars in general, or perhaps some particular category of cars– a certain manufacturer, or a certain style (sports, utility, vintage, etc)– or maybe they only love a particular model of a certain year of a certain colour. Sometimes they love the object itself, or else everything they think it brings to their life: freedom, convenience, prestige, “chicks”, or whatever; or both. When someone gets it in their mind that they want some certain car, they daydream about owning it. People break their fucking backs to possess, maintain, and use these things. From what I’ve observed, people are pretty excited if they can get something they want, but it only lasts until they see something newer, or more efficient, or more attractive, or whatever is their criteria in choosing a car. People feel much the same about other people, I think. I’ve heard many heterosexual men assert that “they love women” or I’ve seen them include “women” as a general thing in their loves or interests in their profiles on social-networking sites. Some people are more categorical: they love musicians, or Asians, brunettes, or other “types”: spontaneous types, romantic types, athletic types, outdoorsy types. And we all probably know or have had personal experience with more than one person who only loves a particular model of a certain year of a certain colour: must be between the ages of 23-25, Asian, petite, long hair, no kids, non-smoker, social drinker, fun, spontaneous, athletic, etc etc etc.; and for a certain purpose: for fun, for friendship possibly more, for intimate encounters, for dinners out and movies in, for marriage. Even if this isn’t written out in a personal ad online or in the back of a newspaper, I do know from observation and experience there are many people who at least vaguely have such descriptions of what they want and are looking for in their minds. When someone gets it in their mind they want a certain person, they daydream about them; if they manage to get together with someone who more or less satisfies what they were looking for and/or who brings to their life whatever it is they want, they seem pretty excited– at least for a time, maybe just until they see something newer, or more attractive, or with better fuel efficiency and a 5-disc cd player.

What worries me the most, though, is that people say, “I love you” and they do not mean love like I love animals: I want to take care of them, I enjoy deeply observing them, learning about them, I respect them and want to contribute to their well-being, share in their happiness, and out of all this feel pleasure and satisfaction, appreciation, and a sense of purpose or usefulness and connection to their existence. No, it seems to me from observation of others, hearing of others’ experiences and from experiences of my own, a lot of people love other people like a lot of people love music and cars. They like someone who reflects highly or positively on themselves; they try to build a collection of people worth bragging to others about, to have as many experiences as possible with as many people as possible; they are often dissatisfied, or only satisfied for a limited period of time, because there is more out there, and it could be better, and they shouldn’t limit themselves to what could possibly be a “lesser experience” than one they could be having if they keep searching and upgrading; and if by chance they find that rare track or the best car in their price range to suit the most of their needs, and they are IN LOVE!– they treat that person like an object, breaking their fucking backs to maintain ownership of them. From one end of the spectrum– developing possession by means of cultivating in the other emotional fears or insecurities or increasing financial dependency– to the other– taking a person’s soul by sexual assault or murder– all along this spectrum will be people who are doing these things to someone they say they “love.”

I don’t understand it. I have seen this with my own eyes, I have heard it with my own ears, I have felt it on my own body, and I don’t understand how anyone who feels within themselves the need to acquire, control, or own someone else like a thing to consume or use in whatever way and for however long they desire can identify that sensation within themselves as “love.” For a very long time, I gave a lot of things, tangible and intangible, to someone who did not love me; what he didn’t want he casually threw out; what I would not give, he stole. I love you, I love you, I love you, he insisted to the very last day. Maybe, but in quality like he loves and wants to own a certain car or a lot of music, and in degree far less.

Since no one has ever shown me or treated me with romantic love, I can only imagine what it must feel like to be actually loved. I imagine it’s nice. It has always been what I’ve most wanted to experience my whole life. I’m sure that is true for most everybody. But that just leads to another thing I don’t understand: if everyone just wants to be loved, why is love so hard for people to give? Do people want to be loved so much that they are blinded with greed, is it something they can only consume but not produce? Or is the love they want to receive so shabbily defined: to love another means to them to acquire, possess or control or want to keep someone, so they want in turn to be themselves acquired, possessed, controlled or kept? I would find this hard to believe, and very sad, of course, but I am really wondering if that is what is going on, if people’s idea of what love looks or feels like is really so low that they are actually giving out everything they would call “love”. If that is the case, then maybe I am the greedy one. I want to not be amassed within a collection, I want to not be owned and controlled like an object, I want to not feel consumed like a product; I want to just feel like I hope the animals in my yard feel: un-self-conscious, a little safer and secure in my environment, free to just be. To feel born with everything I’m supposed to have to live and be accepted– needing no more, no less– to play, to eat, to sleep, and even to fight, if that happens, without mortal fear. To do all these normal things without punishment or fear of physical ruin and emotional apocalypse. I guess what I imagine love feels like has become pretty small, but I guess I have small desires and needs in every other way too. I don’t want 937 hours of music in my pocket, I won’t get tired of my few records I really love. I don’t need grand romance and a lot of show, I just want to feel safe and liked. At the end of my last relationship, when he would say he loves me– usually because he was showing me the exact opposite of love– I said something perhaps kind of odd but very true: “I want to love you.” And I really did. It hurt a lot that I couldn’t (I couldn’t because my love for him would get used as a weapon against me or I would get punished for it). It seems like people just don’t know that producing/creating/giving love is just as rewarding, maybe more so, than taking/receiving/consuming it. I feel sorry for people sometimes, when I think about things like this. I don’t want to sound arrogant by saying that. But I do feel bad for people who are caught up in the acquisition of stuff, especially when “love” is one of those things, who spend their lives fretting over the control and maintenance of their “possessions.”

It isn’t new for me to not understand what other people call “love.” I tried really hard this time to understand and accept how others apparently experience and express it, I believed him and those who advised me to put up with his chronic mistreatment when they said I was unrealistic to think things should be any other way; but no number of hours, months, years of scoldings, punishments, deprivations, or other threats or enactments of violence could change my mind about this: love is giving, observant, nurturing and comforting; it is not taking, possessing, controlling or consuming. I write this down in the hope that I never forget or compromise this belief ever again.

Dear Visitor

Dear “help me to disappear from an abusive partner” (this was your search term which led you to my post on disappearing),
I hope you return and see this message.
Please call the National Domestic Abuse Hotline (this link includes a “quick escape” button and advice on computer safety). They are very kind and can help you:
1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
TTY: 1-800-787-3224
Also, I highly, highly recommend this book: Why Does He DO That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men, by Lundy Bancroft (this book is extremely informative and helpful even if you are in a same-sex relationship). Find it on goodreads, on amazon, or request from your local library.
Finally, if you want to write me, my contact information is at the end of the right sidebar. I will help you. I also have another blog specific to domestic abuse with other resources for getting help, I can give you the link to that as well.  I understand what you’re going through and how hard it is. You can get out of your situation. Don’t give up.
Please be safe, I wish you strength. 
Brixton

An Open Letter/Plea

In the last month, as the mountains of dis- and misinformations have slowly been uncovered little by little, and as I have learned more about what exactly I have been subjected to, I have come to feel that there are a few people to whom I owe an apology either because I did not follow through on something I said I would and/or because I trusted someone I shouldn’t have and as a result put myself at a distance from you. In one case I feel I was openly cold to you when you tried to talk to me like a friend normally would. Anyone reading this I think will know who they are. There is one person who might be reading this who probably would not think I have something on my conscience about him, but I do. To him my flakiness may not be a big deal, but to me it is because it has always been very important to me to keep my word, and with him I did not. I would like to express my appreciation for a favour he tried to do, and apologise for subsequently disappearing into the void when I said I would for sure contact him about something we made plans to do. It’s a small thing, but still it is on my conscience, especially because he was being very nice when no one else was.

The thing is, I would normally do the right and mature thing and take it upon myself to contact you directly; however, I may not know how to do so for one or more of the following reasons:

+ I may no longer have contact information for you, especially since my facebook account is deactivated.
+ Because I know for a fact that he has lied to people about me (not “difference of opinion/perspective”, I mean outright fabrications), I am extremely afraid that you would be skeptical of my intentions (more about my intentions below).
+ I admit here that I have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder as the result of my experiences over the last two years. What this means is that I am in a place where I have become too afraid of re-experiencing situations that would look or feel like what I experienced at home. One of those things was verbal battering, specifically denying my reality through something called “gaslighting”. Though I want to talk or write to you to apologise for my action(s), it would be very important to my recovery that I not get into any situation where I am “re-traumatised” by having to “prove” what I experienced by arguing or defending myself. I know this is sounding messy and complicated, but what I am trying to convey is that I will want to speak for myself, and not have to speak in defence of myself (I hope that makes sense). And I am not sure who I can trust to allow that to happen.
+ One of the things all abusers do is “campaign for sympathy” to isolate and discredit their partner so that she will have no one to go to and/or will not be believed when she tries to get support. He interfered with several friendships that I know of, but there are many more I just don’t know what the status is between us. I am doing my part to re-establish the friendships that I know of which were lost as a direct result of his interference, or neglected as a result of my withdrawal. So far I have been truly surprised at the strength my friendships had, that more often than not I am told that they trusted me to come forward when I could and that their feelings for me have not diminished in all this time. I am truly blessed, I know this. But to those I have in mind in making this open communication, I am so unsure how to proceed with you. There is one friendship especially, the one to whom I made the worst mistake of letting go, that is breaking my heart every day. But I just don’t know how I could begin to fix things, I most especially don’t know if she would even want me to try or if her opinion of me has been too damaged by the combination of his “campaign” and my own rudeness to her (his campaign went both ways to keep us from each other).
+ Plain and simple, I’m also not sure who even cares.

I guess all I can do is ask that if you are reading this and you think I might be talking about you, please think about what you know about me. I specifically do not want to engage in any kind of gossiping, you probably know from experience with me I have always been against that kind of behaviour. It is not my agenda to get anyone to “take sides”: trust me that I am a grown-up who understands this is not high-school, and I trust you that you are a grown-up who can judge for yourself how you feel about people. Also please consider what I say in my third point, above: I have no energy or even ability to engage in that kind of thing. I am suffering a great deal, not from loss of the “relationship” I was involved in, but from feeling very unsafe and uncertain. Every “unknown” I can eliminate or resolve is a great help to me and can contribute to my recovery. Like I said, there are apologies I feel are owed to a few people, if you are open and willing to hear me, please be so kind and take the first step toward me so that I can make them. My contact information is at the end of the sidebar, or if you have my phone number, you may call me if you prefer. I understand people may want time to think about it. I will not close any doors on these things unless you tell me that is what you want me to do. Otherwise I will wait until you are ready to talk to me.

Thank you for considering what I wrote. I am not sure I have said everything above that I should or that I wanted to, if I think of something later I will add it at the end of this post.

—-
Update: Also, if the above does not seem to apply to you and you are just a curious onlooker: if you can and wish to offer general emotional or moral support, please feel free to get in contact with me. All support is helpful, appreciated, and needed. I have been told so many things that could very well be totally wrong that I don’t quite know who all the people are that I can reach out to, and I know sometimes there are even people out there who a person in my position wouldn’t even think of. If you can or want to help, please do.

you a ghost

you a ghost and unaffected
there will be more where I came from
those who laugh out loud
but are not without limitation
and live according to life

you a ghost and unaffected
observed only hazily
there will be others
whose spirit you desire
but who shall see through you

vague and disconnected
as without detail as without truth
you a ghost and discontented
in a spotlight you disappear
into corners you creep full of shame

you a ghost and unaffected
to be like that dead lover
so arousing, so romantic
touch yourself to it, like you did
eroticise suffering, idealise pain

in the end it still wasn’t real
in the end they were still all alone
you a ghost and discontented
with those who laugh out loud
dissatisfied until they become like you

you a ghost and unaffected
moaning and groaning for show
an angry shadow lurking
amongst those who refuse
to perish at your depraved command.
 
 
llh:gjp

“It’s just a book”– or is it?

Some may have noticed that since I joined goodreads, I no longer post reviews here of every book I read. I noticed that instead of reading for enjoyment, I got into the habit instead of reading as a reviewer, taking always mental notes of what I might want to say about a particular text. I wasn’t liking the experience, it distracted me too much from reading for pleasure, so I stopped doing it. On occasion, if there’s something I really want to say about something, I will post a review on goodreads. By chance today I came across an old review I submitted last year that I had totally forgotten about. Reading it now after freeing myself from a physically, sexually and emotionally abusive relationship, it scares the fucking shit out of me.

But first, before we get to the review, a little context: In 2010 I was so miserable and isolated I could do almost nothing else but read books. Compared to previous years during which I would read anywhere between 15-25 books, last year I read 85. It should also be noted that I am someone who eagerly takes recommendations from friends; fiction or non-fiction, if someone tells me something was good or I might like it, I will totally get on it. It’s nice to be pointed in the direction of a good book, but also I like that reading a friend’s recommendation sometimes teaches me a little something about my friend. My ex was not someone who reads very much, and when he does, he sticks almost entirely to non-fiction. I can’t recall ever seeing him read any fiction at all. In the whole time we were going out, he only recommended one single book to me; moreover, it’s a rare instance of him feeling enthusiastic about a fictional work (I have no idea how he ever came to read it himself, or when), They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? by Horace McCoy. He said he really enjoyed it a lot. In fact, this guy, who almost never took any other sort of initiative whatsoever, felt so strongly that I should read this that he up and ordered it for me at the library, totally disregarding that I had tons of other books in my queue. Well, I guess I had to read it. His only recommendation and a chance to see what kind of fictional world speaks to him, pleases him aesthetically and/or stimulates his imagination. Particularly disturbing to me now is the timing of when he decided to give this book to me. He ordered it just after returning to live with me late last summer: I had kicked him out the month before when his abuse became markedly more extreme. I have recently read of abusive partners who tape certain newspaper articles to the fridge or play certain songs on the stereo (like Guns ‘n’ Roses, “I used to love her/But I had to kill her”) to passive-aggressively scare or threaten their partners. Now I have to wonder what he was trying to “communicate” to me by having me read this, of all books in the world. This is also the only instance– in two years and over a hundred books I read and talked about– of my ex ever asking me what I thought the author was trying to “tell people” with this story. Yeah, he took that extra step of asking me what I think McCoy was trying to say. Looking at the review now, with a clearer mind than I could have had at the time, I have no doubt: he wanted me to think about it. 

Here is the review in entirety as I posted it on goodreads:

“Supports the general rule-of-thumb: if the film is great, the book is probably half-assed (eg, The Godfather). Totally fails to depict the chaos and utter cruelty of the Depression-era dance marathon phenomenon, which so strikingly in the film serves as the fishbowl we can peer into and observe how nasty and mean seamonkeys– or: people– can be to each other, and how pointless and unrewarded everyone’s efforts and lives really are.

The most irritating element of the book’s story is that Gloria has to die because she’s a negative “bitch”, a woman who “fails” to be womanly, who won’t withstand the marathon of life– and for her its a lifetime of sexual abuse– with feminine pleasantry. She’s lost (or never had) the energy to check her attitude or watch her language. She’s described as looking old(er than she is), and not pretty. She’s not into having babies, and she doesn’t want to get married. A nice older lady just comes out toward the end and says it: “She’s cruel and she’s dangerous.” Here Robert “does the world a favour” by ridding it of a bitter, ugly woman, whom he likens to a broken animal who can no longer serve the needs of men. In the film, it is the world that is wrong– it is Gloria who says (thus shifting our sympathy to her), well if you’re going to treat me like an animal, show me the mercy which would be given one. The more I think about this book– which almost suggests that Gloria’s unattractive appearance and attitude is a greater “crime” than her murder– the more it pisses me off. So shoot me. This only earned from me a second star because it can be read in a couple hours; as someone with an intimidating number of books on my at-home to-read shelf (and an apparently uncommon inability to stomach being exposed to dialogue like “Goddam bastard women” or scenes of men shamelessly slapping women around), I appreciated its brevity.

The Midnight Classics edition looks like a Scholastic book for eighth-graders. Big, entirely bolded font, each chapter beginning with an entire page devoted to the (partial) opening sentence, which gets bigger, and BIGGER and BIGGER as the chapters progress, and– get this– every instance of the word “fuck” is represented by em-dashes (we know when someone says “fucking” because then we get double-em-dashes!). Once a character even just says this: ” — .” Silly.

For packing so much hating on women into so few pages, perhaps instead of this lengthy review I should have said only, “— you, Horace McCoy.”

~One Week Later~
The person who recommended this to me (and who really liked it himself) asked what I thought the author was trying to say with this book. Although I was tempted to brush the question off with the standard, “We don’t have access to authorial intent blahblah”, I suggested instead that this story seems to be nothing more than an elaborate way of saying “Women are destroyers of the Dreams of Men.” I offered as evidence the attention given to Robert’s dream of becoming a film director, and his snipey remarks during his own trial that this dream will never come true NOW, now that this stupid Gloria made him kill her, GEESH! (and having made a post-marathon appointment with a producer he was so close, d’oh!) Additionally, there are the women from the Morals Society who want the marathon shut down by the authorities for being exploitive and fostering of bad behaviour– even after a random shoot-out, the guy who put the marathon on cites not innocent victims of stray bullets but harassment by the ladies from the Morals Society as why he finally has to pack it in. To show in contrast how things go when men get to make their own decisions for themselves, after a man goes nuts and starts punching his wife in the face up and down the dance floor (because she admitted she cheated on him once), the man asks the marathon organisers if he’ll be kicked out of the competition. No, he can stay, the organisers tell him. “You mean I’m not going to be punished?” he asks. “No, you won’t be punished,” they repeat. And the men all pat each other on the shoulders and continue on as they like. No, they’d never punish their own, not for something like beating a slutty wife. *smiles, cigars*

So — this, I’m changing my review to 1-star. It’s already September and I haven’t hated a book yet this year. It can’t get worse than this.”

—-
So my ex really likes a story (he gave it 4-stars) about men openly and approvingly disparaging, beating, and killing every woman that gets in their way or offends their sense of entitlement– blame-shifting and saying the women deserved it every time, portraying the men as the victims in every case. It’s the only book he ever recommended to me, and it’s the only time he ever got something for me I didn’t ask for. He didn’t ask me if I wanted to read it, and he didn’t ask me if I had the time. Though it would be obvious from my political persuasions as well as what I do like to read that I would NOT have liked this at all, he decided I should read it, and he decided when. And only one time in two years he took the extra step of asking me, “So what do you think he’s trying to say?” Gee, I dunno, what are you trying to say to me?!

What a sick and scary person.

Public Service Announcement on Disappearing

This is cross-posted from my new blog on domestic abuse and violence. I post it here also because I think it’s important and something I want to help people keep in mind, to prevent this situation from occurring again in my own life, but also in case someone notices it happening to themselves or someone else they know:

When You or Someone You Know “Disappears”

I write this from the experience of seeing a friend “disappear” and finding out a few years later that she was in an abusive relationship with a controlling partner, and also from friends telling me now that I have gotten out from under an abusive and controlling partner that they did notice I disappeared when I met him, but they– just like I with my friend– didn’t know what it meant:

+ If you have a friend who starts a new relationship and you notice they seem to have “disappeared”, especially for a very long time, please do not assume they are simply caught up in enjoying their new partner; they may be in an abusive situation. It is typical, especially in the beginning of a new relationship, that someone and their new partner would indulge in being alone together; however, in a healthy relationship, couples eventually resume normal social habits and contacts with friends, often integrating their social circles (introducing their partner to friends and family, taking their new partner to their favourite places, etc). This should go both ways, with both people in the relationship inviting each other into their social lives. If you become concerned that someone you know is not maintaining normal social activities, especially after a very long time, beware: it is very likely the case that your disappeared friend is in a relationship with an abusively controlling partner. Reach out to them. If they do not respond, try again, keep trying. Be especially concerned if your friend says they will call you but doesn’t, accepts invitations to meet you but fails to show up, or seems to explain their withdrawal from their normal activities and friendships by blaming themselves (eg, “I guess I’ve just become flakey”, “I wanted to go but at the last minute I wasn’t in the mood”, etc) or making excuses for their partner (eg, “He just doesn’t like to be around people”, “He had a bad day at work, and I didn’t want to just leave him at home by himself” etc. A partner who doesn’t like to be around people or who had a bad day at work should not be preventing someone from going out themselves or otherwise maintaining normal social relationships). Any sudden change of character in a friend is cause for concern; for instance, if your friend has always been reliable but suddenly starts flaking out, there may be something wrong in their life. Call them up, ask them how things are going, ask if everything’s ok. Listen closely to them, as it may not be safe to tell you what is really going on, or they may be worried what you will think of them or their partner if they tell you the (whole) truth. Reassure them that they will not lose your respect if something is wrong. If they are with a person who is especially emotionally abusive, they may be themselves very confused about whether what is going on is “normal” or their own fault. Trust your gut instincts and what you know about your friend. If something seems wrong or out of the ordinary, reach out and help.

+ If you are in a new relationship and your partner never leaves your side, calls constantly to see what you’re up to, abandons all of his own usual social habits and contacts, never asks you meet his friends and family, does not invite you to go out with him or to his favourite places, refuses to meet your friends/family, refuses to go out by himself, or sulks, pouts, complains (before, during, or afterwards) while amongst your friends or if you go out by yourself, or otherwise exhibits anti-social or other behaviours which make it difficult or uncomfortable to maintain your normal social activities and contacts: do not interpret his constant presence and attention as “he just really likes you”– even if he tells you this– you may be with an abusively controlling partner. In a healthy relationship, your new partner would want to become part of your life which includes friends, family, and activities/interests outside the confines of your relationship. A partner who is always in your presence or who “doesn’t want to share you with anyone else” is not loving you more than someone who maintains his normal social habits and activities, he is supervising you. Beware that abusive and controlling partners will always blame-shift and claim to be the victims of their relationships. They say things like, “We abuse each other”, “We just have a bad relationship dynamic”, or “She always makes me feel like ____, so I can never ____.” An abuser’s first agenda item is to do everything possible to isolate their victim, so that they can control your activities, and manipulate others’ impressions of you. They do not invite you to meet their friends or family, so that they can never form their own impression of you. This comes in handy when your partner attempts to discredit or blame you for all or most of the problems in the relationship– his friends and family are entirely dependent on his perspective. He gets rewarded with sympathy and support, and you get punished with isolation and the inability to get support or hold him accountable for his abusiveness. He may also interfere with your own relationships that you had prior to meeting him, such as calling your friends out of “concern” for you or to “get perspective”. Some partners can and do look to your friends and family for perspective and to get to know you better; but you know an abuser because he will speak about you negatively and actively campaign for your friends’ sympathy and support in an attempt to drive a wedge between you and anyone who may be a support to you when needed. I cannot stress this enough, if this is what is happening in your relationship, do not be afraid to reach out to your friends or family. Remember, your friends love you and will help you. Anyone who does not believe you and help you, or who judges you for being in your situation, or who is skeptical of you because of what your partner has told them, these people were not your friends to begin with– do not waste your time feeling bad about it, keep looking and you WILL find support.

+ No matter what your current relationship status, whether you are single, in a new relationship, or even if you have been in a healthy and enjoyable relationship for some time, tell your friends and family now: “If I ever disappear, there is something very wrong. Please make contact with me, don’t give up.” Discuss this in advance with your most trusted friend(s), you can even have a code word that only you and they know, so if you are unsafe or so confused that all you can tell them is this word, they will know you need their help and support.

Trust and take care of your loved ones, trust and take care of yourself, don’t give up.

Hello, friends.

Thank you for continuing to visit Uncalled For, and for having faith that I may actually one day return to post something new. *group hug*

I am currently working on a new blog, launched April 6th, dealing specifically with my personal experience with and topics related to domestic abuse and violence. I will provide the link to that blog upon request and at my discretion. My email address and aim username are at the end of the sidebar on the right. I do accept offline IM’s. You can also request the link in the comments box below this post, I do still check this site even if I haven’t been posting on it. (Please do not be offended if you are one to whom I choose not to give the link, as I must at this time consider certain privacy issues.)

Meanwhile, it is my hope and intention that after some dust has settled and my thoughtspace becomes again my own, I will return to writing and updating Uncalled For more frequently than I have been doing the last two years.

Thank you so much for your interest and support.

Non-stop Romance

I dreamed I was collecting feathers in something like a garbage dump
Small, grey, and fluffy pigeon feathers
Left over from a cat-attack
A tomcat, no, a puma, no, “a mountain lion!”
They got bigger as I went along
The feathers– hawks, grey hawks
I followed their trail, and they got bigger
Until they were eagle feathers,
Black and greasy and long as my forearm
I cleaned them up as I went along and made them nice again
But I understand: poems are stupid places to put one’s dreams.

Guest Entry: Crow Versions #5

by Double-face
 
 
If there is someone above
who knows what happens

You

today I have trouble
give me something to make it
not so

if there is someone inside the earth
who knows what happens

I have trouble today
give me something
to make it not so

whatever makes these things
now just as I am
I have enough

give me just for me
my death

I have enough sadness
 
 
From Shaking the Pumpkin: Traditional Poetry of the Indian North Americas, Jerome Rothenberg, ed.

fat black sharpie

He is coming here.
He is coming.
He IS.
HE!

She objects so singularly.
She objects so-
She-objects
she
 
 
llh:gjp

time-lapse photography

there are things…, I remember
there are things…, you remember
and there are things
which were never like that at all
though sudden and wonderfully
you recall me
into the night, late
from lying with others
who forget so easily
deceive so loudly and long
showering me with presence
so smoothing your little voice
quiet as memory is strong
over worn-through advances, regrets.

I remember you and your sidelong glances
hello, how you shiver, how do I
when I close my eyes
I recall you
into a lonely afternoon
and your sweet hopes for my skin
how they let us forget and begin–
I dare them all,
let us forget and be forgotten!
 
 
llh:trl

always read the footnotes

My favourite footnote ever. #57 from Part Three in Slavoj Žižek’s The Fright of Real Tears: Krzysztof Kieślowski Between Theory and Post-Theory:

Insofar as one accepts this notion of sexual relationship as the ultimate reference, one is tempted to rewrite the entire history of modern philosophy in its terms: Descartes: ‘I fuck, therefore I am,’ i.e. only in the intense sexual activity do I experience the fullness of my being. (Lacan’s ‘decentring’ answer to this would have been: ‘I fuck where I am not, and I am not where I fuck,’ i.e. it is not me who is fucking, but ‘it fucks’ in me.) Spinoza: within the Absolute as Fuck (coitus sive natura), one should distinguish along the lines of the distinction between natura naturans and natura naturata, between the active fucking penetration and the object being fucked– there are those who fuck and those who get fucked. Hume introduces here the empiricist doubt: how do we know that fuck as a relationship exists at all? There are just objects whose movements appear co-ordinated. The Kantian answer to this crisis: ‘the conditions of possibility of fucking are at the same time the conditions of possibility of the objects [of] fucking’. Ficthe then radicalises this Kantian revolution: fucking is a self-positing unconditional activity which divides itself into fucker and the fucked object, i.e. it is fucking itself which posits its object, the fuckee. Hegel: it is crucial to conceive Fucking not only as Substance (the substantial drive overwhelming us), but also as Subject (as a reflective activity embedded in the context of spiritual meaning). Marx: one should return to real fucking against idealist masturbatory philosophising, i.e., as he literally put it in The German Ideology, real, actual life is to philosophy as real sex is to masturbation. Nietzsche: the Will is, at its most radical, the Will to Fuck, which culminates in the Eternal Return of ‘I want more’, of a fuck going on forever. Heidegger: in the same way as the essence of technology is nothing ‘technological’, the essence of fucking has nothing to do with fuck as a simple ontic activity; rather, ‘the essence of fucking is the fucking of the essence itself’, i.e. it is not only we, humans, that fuck up our understanding of essence, it is the essence which is already in itself fucked up (inconsistent, withdrawing itself, erring). And, finally, this insight into how the essence itself is fucked up, brings us to Lacan’s ‘there is no such thing as a sexual relationship’.