I went to India once…well actually a few times however the last time I went I was being escorted through a city market , in populated areas I didn’t drive and usually had a 3-5 car motorcade. I saw out of the corner of my eye a fur blanket…all I could think about was Elizabeth and the blanket…I so wanted us to sleep together in an innocent fashion…to dream with each other rather than of each other (be it I the only one dreaming).

I ran out of the car across the market…behind me screeching tires and armed guards running about to secure the area….outside the crowd ducking thinking some sort of robbery was taking place…this is where I got my blanket from. It replaced the one of baby tigers which now adorns the living room as a accent piece, Elizabeth adored but never saw….and last week I retired it as it would never be used for the intentions which it was purchased. It was one of the last bastions of the life I used to live, a life which is no longer mine and henceforth I try to hide the relics as I try to hide myself. Rather I purchased a black and grey one to match the new façade my life has evolved in to in her absence.

I once wanted my bedroom to be an extension of her, contemporary, elegant, sophisticated, romantic…. Now it simply just black…black drapes, sheets …well grey accents to breakup to monogamy.

It’s not really my bedroom any more…it’s more so the place I sleep…it seems very alien…like someone else lives here…not anyone I know.

It’s all very “adult” it lacks the comforts afforded by relationships…it lacks any warmth or depth. Just very structured, very functional, very adult and lackluster.
No passion, no heart, no persona.

It almost seems like a high end hotel room with the exception of no television set or seating area. I buy in to the theory that every room should have a purpose and be used expressly for that purpose. I do deviate from time to time, however I would like to think I do well in keeping with the notion. I only watch television in the living room, I only do my paper work in the office, and I only sleep in my bedroom.

I was considering painting the walls a stark white. For contrast…but perhaps grey to match the accents in the bed spread.

It’s sort of hard to make these choices…I used to have a reason to be creative and artsy…for my creative sophisticated ,artsy (When she wanted to be) Elizabeth…I used to confer with her on all decisions and she would either say yes or now and as she had such wonderful taste I knew I could never go wrong.

Then when I did things it felt as though they belonged to us….I was so happy with the improvements as they came along one by one, however now..it’s just all very alien.

I feel like an alien in my own skin.

¶ 1/28/2005 10:08:00 PM //

When I was with Elizabeth…I used to have moments of such intense happiness that it used to make me cry.

I used to love so profoundly it would hurt. Loving her physically hurt. I would be overwhelmed by my love for her.

Her smile would at times send me in to a state of Zen.
I would then fight back the tears. It…she was so beautiful. At times I could not comprehend.

She gave me so much strength… I was never afraid to fail…only to fail her. My only fears solely pertained to her.

I would lie….only to protect her from my reality.
I would lie others…only to protect her from my reality.
I would lie to myself…only to protect her from myself. I am guilty.

I would hide her from my past, from my sins, from those who know too much, and speak their minds.

I so yearned for a simple life…the irony…2 complicated people with complicated lives and pasts yearning for a simple life together…

I never learned all about her past…she never learned about my past. At times I felt she knew…

We were both hidden from the others family.
We were both rebels…in our own fashion
She was a saint…I was the polar opposite.

She strived to heal mankind while I served only as a cancer on humanity.


Now I am a man with out fear, without happiness, without her ,with a new found inability to go on or even care.


The tragedy of the world in part lies in the fact that so many hold so many regrets and so many of them are the same…how others wasted their youths and how little the youth of today cares….only when they grow, will they grow in to the same regrets.

I have no regrets. My day to day operations I have carried out in an honorable fashion with the utmost integrity… and to save Elizabeth from the unspeakable things in this world I would speak a thousand lies if it meant her not having to stop smiling.

¶ 1/26/2005 08:36:00 AM //

Smashed cars, dishonored name, new house

My involvement I thought was an end with “the drunken sailor” whom I will now occasionally refer to as “Fuck face” … all disrespect is intentional.

This person has had so much handed to him on a silver platter and yet takes so much for granted. Humility is some times only taught when you remove every right and luxury afforded to some. Rock bottom is a college education.

Fuck face was taken in at my parents main home and my father took him under his wing , placing faith in him above all else. Fuck face was beyond any other ranking member in the family through my fathers eyes and we were but background noise in our warnings.

I knew above all as I had been put through much in such a short time…in the end all it did was tear a deeper rift between my father and I. Fuck face cries over the fact his father did so little for him yet I was made homeless by my father. Fuck face has (had) the easiest job in the world, granted by his father (the godfather) a multimillion usd spread , over seas assets and an incredible home at the family compound.
Yet he cries his father does so little for him. In essence he just wanted a piece of one of the family business ventures. This man can not be trusted to take care of his own children let alone and DOD subcontracting facility, or a tanker fleet, or even a mall.

I on the other hand had to work/fight for everything and will never get an iota of the family pie and will only serve to contribute to it. Which I feel is the proper role. Respect is earned , not granted.

Well my father felt for Fuck Face and came out of retirement to help establish him some sort of contracting business. He gave him room and board in their main home. Gave him the utility van, a stipend for tools , communications, new clothes, in an essence he gave him a new life.

Now my father being all about the bottom line he decided to part take in the work and going on the job sites. He lined up a solid work load and there was a massive amount of work , enough so that if he proved him self he would have a stable 7-8 figure income. Enough so that he would not have to relay on the godfather for any sort of fiscal support.

As the situation was prior , he had 6 cars which were all financed, he lived in 4.5M usd spread he could not afford. He drank, went out, bought things he could not afford, had girls on the side, so on and so forth. Yet he only made perhaps 150,000usd, his wife only 250,000 usd and they spent roughly 3 times what they made excluding bills.

My father would go on site every day and work..(he has a strong work ethic) yet fuck face would cry and wine and do nothing… yet my father would neglect this in the reports to the godfather. The god father was impressed and there were talks of possibly handing over an established business, or possibly setting him up with proper offices and work staff...a few vans… a decent middle level business. The average person would be thrilled with this yet Fuck face thought he was entitled to the main civilian contracting firm out of NY, this was a 500M usd corporation that the godfather had been building since he stepped foot in the US. He had lucrative contracts with the WTC development and was in the possess of building WTC 7. (WTC= world trade center)

The god father realized he would not lived forever and there was serious thoughts of placing the firm in NY to a intermediary CEO (perhaps my father or another uncle..maybe even my brother) Who would
A. over sea the day to day operations.
B. Would oversee the drunken sailors progress.
All deals would be finalized at this point and no new projects would be undertaken in the mean time. Which would result in millions of lost work However…these are legacy family issues which would be meant to secure the future of this particular venture.

So even though he didn’t deserve it… Fuck face was on the cuspate of gaining anywhere from 500-750 M usd.

So all he had to do was not drink…even if he did drink my father may not have reported it.

So what did fuck face do? Well he did what all fuck faces do…(hence the name)

He and my father were at home depot…(my father trying really hard to portray the working man/average Joe persona) So fuck face says he needed something out of the van…at which point he left my father stranded.

At some point he drank…he smashed the van…
He took a limo service (on my fathers credit card) to my fathers house, He stole my mothers phaeton (mind you he stole my Saab a few weeks prior...however I got it back relatively unharmed)
and took it to his estate upstate and smashed it in to a tree on the grounds of his home. He then went in to the street and tried to commit suicide…FUCK FACE!

I’ve said this before however.. He has a wife and children, he is responsible to so many beyond himself. The selfish bastard can’t do it himself.. He picks fights and I have had to save him so many times. His children have no respect for him…they in a essence have no father.

Well Fuck face ended up being arrested for the thousandth some odd time.

He sits in jail…

We also found out he embezzled nearly all the assets from the newly established business and god knows where it is. He tarnished my fathers reputation with his old business partners for which they were working.

This is were my “diplomacy” came in.

I drove to my parents home in CT and was given a briefcase by my father with one hand and a blow torch ,chains and a surgical kit with the other.

If he was out I was to go to work on him. (blowtorch and chains)…it’s called tough love.

If he was still in lockup …I was to call the godfather and suggest giving him the “deal”.

The deal involved about 150,000usd on my part however it was well spent.

He was in fact still in jail . He was crying like a baby as we intentionally left him in there for a few days (normally he was always out within the hour). His bail was at 1.5M usd (hence the briefcase).

What ended up happening was I sat down and I offered the deal…
1.He would have to legally change his name.
2.He would lose all rights he was born with.
3.He would lose his house(s)
4.He would lose his wife and children. (they would be relocated)
5.He would have to forfeit all future contact with the family.
6.He would forfeit all rank and assets overseas invested on his behalf by the godfather.
7. His bail would be posted.
8. His legal fees would be paid.
9. He would receive a one time payout of 1,000usd
10. He would lose everything

More than anything this was a test. Had he any respect for his family, any compassion for his wife and children he would have staid in jail. I would have then gone to his home in the area spend a week,...then pending no calls from him , go and bail him out and bring him to CT where he would have been “worked on”.

Instead he of weak mind and big words got all big and righteous at which point he was subdued by the officers and I left.

I was called the next day and he was pleading to take the “deal” I went in with his lawyer and he sighed over the house and all his assets. I then went over and paid a newly acquired cashiers check for 1,499,999 USD to the officer. I was then informed I was a dollar short…I shrugged and said “I know” and then I left.

There was some sort of stipulation that stated since I had paid the bulk of the bail the balance could only be paid by myself…hence forth it secured his position in jail.

He is safer in jail. He who spoke so highly of the family name and all it entailed did the most to tarnish it. Not only did he destroy his name… he took a swing at my fathers name. He totaled my mothers favorite car. He betrayed all of our trust. He was adamant about choosing his own lawyer… when the court date rolled around his last friend failed to show.


So what did I get out of this for my 150K usd? …well while picking up the cashiers check I paid off his mortgage…and in the paper work he sighed it over to myself. I now have a new house…it’s fairly massive. Not as large or opulent as my parents home , a bit gaudy…however not bad for 150,000usd. It was bought for 4.5M usd back in the early 90’s… so its worth considerably more now.

It’s in a nice area...good schools (not that I have children or anything ) a few acres, a lake … a good perimeter defense. A fairly swank 8 car heated garage...lots of bedrooms, bathrooms and the lot. Indoor pool, even a helipad (not like I have a helicopter…but the godfather and my father do)

It needs some work however I doubt I will actually live there…perhaps it’s an investment, or a reward…or a down payment on what is left to do.

If/When he does get out there may very well be a price on his head and as we like to keep these sort of things in the family….

I forgot a lot…omitted a lot… so ..meh

My father was by my place in the city for the night two days ago (he had an appointment in the city) ..he staid the night and before I dropped him off at his appointment he handed over a check for 42,500 usd…
He said I should be prepared to pay a lot more in property taxes from now on…I hope this doesn’t mean I’m in…I want to be out…

“Just when I thought I was out…they drag me back in”

¶ 1/25/2005 10:09:00 AM //

So many incarnations. sadly so few pictures Like wanting photos of your children’s youth but then turning around to find them already all grown up (yes I did very much so adore my old phone and only after the fact do I realize this… such a cliché. ) I feel just immensely guilty and selfish for having the new uber phone while the old one served my faithfully and never gave me the slightest but of trouble. It is still unscratched






I used to hang the phone above my bed from the track lighting… It was the conveyer of so much bad news…however I am not the sort to kill the messenger (yet) .

Now the holster remains yet the phone is no longer there…a metaphor for my life? Nay..I aprecheated everything when I had it and I let it be known to those whom I owed so much gratitude…but perhaps for some.






Razr

Cold , sleek and sexy (like Elizabeth from afar)










I do love my new phone… I would assume it’s a guilty riddled love associated with love affairs.…(not that I would know what that feels like)

¶ 1/19/2005 01:11:00 PM //

The constants…

It always starts out as such a picturesque day… the sun is out the sky relatively clear

I always start out on a hill, dark clouds to my back.

The OpFor is always in white, accompanied by white horses of various breeds.
They stretch far as far as the eye can see in either direction.

I am always in pitch black on a pitch black Clydesdale

I occasionally have a dog. He answers to Ucilpilius

They always seem to recognize me as soon as I see them.

They align themselves in to formation within moments.

The initial charge has a deafening roar and the tree I am besides shakes…
As though there is an earthquake. As though god himself slammed his fists in to the earth.

The tree is always there, the tree is atop of my hill.

I feel within me as I fight a rage and fury that blinds me and causes me to at times falter from my tactics, though it’s hard to have any tactics when the numbers are so over whelming and I am but one.

I always get wounded quickly.

The white mass envelops me.

My stallion rarely survives to the end, Yet he is valiant, obedient, and fierce.

Occasionally with just the initial ride in to battle, He will scare off one or two of the OpFor horses.

When I’m knocked down, I notice the green grass is wet and muddy with blood.

My enemy hates me with passion.

I fight not to defeat them, only to defend honor.

I know riding in I will never defeat them.
I know I will never go home.
I know I will never see what it is I fight so dearly for again.

My blade is always sharp, yet sometimes I lose it and pick up one from a fallen soldier.

I notice their blades are not always as sharp.

I find instead of cutting ,I am hacking, Say a decapitation with my sword I can pull in a single swoop yet with another sword I may have to hack a few times.. I sometimes will lose the blade to the flesh for it’s just too hard to pull out.

I rarely win, but I slay many.

If I defeat them all, the legions, the countless iron clad masked men. ..I get to die of my wounds under the tree dreaming of Elizabeth.

The pain of being cut is all too real. I feel every cut, smash, punch, kick , bruise, charge. The weight of my armor becomes a chore as I rage on. I sometimes out of necessity remove some of it. Sometimes due to the weight more often than not due to the damage that is inflicted upon it and the hindrance it causes to my movement.

Sometimes I have a leg or an arm cut off, yet I keep fighting through the mind numbing pain.

Sometimes Ucilipius will make it with me to the end,..he helps drag my body back up the hill to the tree. He never runs off during battle and is always within an five meters, even in the thick of it.

The bodies pile high, As the battle goes on The ground becomes lost, I find myself losing the ground and stepping on dead bodies…sometimes they are not dead. And I smash in heads as I fight the healthy.

The horses of the Opfor don’t always die with their freshly deceased owners.
They sometimes wonder off and graze in the fields.
I always die.

Once…I Was under the tree waiting to die…and I feared those whom I fought for may forget my cause…I feared I may have forgotten my cause… I reached for my wounds to find my blood caked body had already begun to heal, or the blood of the opfor had dried over them…So I took my sword and sliced open my thigh. I reached in with two fingers for some blood and wrote her name on the tree besides me…and it all became clear…the “Why”.

The Why was beyond us. .we could not comprehend the why…the why was my god…it was Elizabeth.

I feel every excruciating detail of death every time I die.. I feel the burning of my lungs gasping for air, The heart struggling to pump but finally dieing. It’s never peaceful. It’s always a violent death.
Never do I just get to close my eyes and go off.

I used to be afraid of death, but I die every night. I used to be afraid to sleep, but now I go willingly.

There are things in this world worse than death.

¶ 1/15/2005 08:09:00 AM //

I don't usually link or things of the sort however

http://www.twinturbo.net/net/viewmsg.aspx?forum=general&msg_id=1455931

Yes I know what you are going to say after you see the last photo but I ask you...did you not laugh? or atlest gasp? cover your face?

Scroll slowly...

¶ 1/14/2005 02:25:00 AM //

I forget many things… I may have mentioned this but my name seems.. so foreign to me. So I have on more than a few occasions as of late forgotten it. One time I needed to give to whomever for whatever reason so I pulled out my drivers license and my heart , my heart that I thought had burned so intensely for Elizabeth that it had become ash since she left me…broke…again.

She sent me magic oh so long ago via diplomatic courier... I talked about this once before and how much it meant to me , how deeply her every gesture moved me and this was by far one of the most prolific polarizing action which served in showcasing the articulation in which she loved.

I took one piece and stuck it to my desk amidst the flurry of post it’s and actionable objectives. …another I taped to my drivers license… and I who was infamous in my youth for tickets, street racing, local police departments buying new cruisers on the proceeds of my tickets alone, and the dozens of car wrecks… I taped one piece to my drivers license and since I had been without ticket or accident.




I had grow accustom to always seeing it there… no one who saw it ever asked about it. And now …the magic has sadly dissipated...the tape is there and underneath it a red mess of what used to be a heart… It is something so mundane yet I am deeply , hopelessly devastated. It has broken my heart once again, and this coming from a person who felt that he was incapable of the capacity for more pain. I felt it could no longer crumble in to smaller pieces …it’s the sort of thing which helps to further finalize things but at the cost of what little sanity I have left.



Sometimes…most of the time. I just miss hugging her…She was the one soul I could confine in , and now I only confine in plastics , semi conductors, and computer chips

¶ 1/12/2005 10:35:00 PM //

\I cannot really recall how it began or even how it ended, however the one constant remained that everything seemed fast and frantic.

I was in my parents’ house and...It was as always in the fashion akin to reality. It being a pristine holier than thou “you don’t belong here” sort of house. I was running through it trying to do something for someone and it had been going on for a while when I stopped myself , I forgot my task and realized I was dreaming…and the name Elizabeth screamed and pulsed through every inch of my being.

For a moment, I contemplated finishing the task at hand but I stepped back form the situation and deemed it all a dream and so I tried to will everything away and to Elizabeth’s house in Mexico. I can’t seem to control my dreams the way I wish to. I looked in the mirror and everything was a blur. I saw only a mess of a reflection.

The entire dream had a haze to it… I was starring in to a mirror afraid to close my eyes for fear I may wake up and not see Elizabeth. Everything was failing to turn over so I blinked my eyes for seemed an eternity. When I opened them, the mirror stretched away the room stretched and darkened and it warped much larger than I would have assumed. I have never been to their home however; it was like a smaller version of our family home overseas with better taste in furniture. A bit sparse yet nonetheless sprawling. The one room I was now in had a sofa set to one far corner (beige) and what seemed a bar counter sunk in to the opposite wall, chandeliers , hard rich woods. The room must have been a good 4,000 sq ft. Large enough to fit my personal residence in to two times over.

I began my frantic hunt looking for everywhere for Elizabeth…however the more I searched the larger the house seemed to get. Opulent staircases. Endless hallways. I kept yelling her name hunting franticly for fear I would wake up. On more than one occasion I would run in to someone who would look like her but not be she and I would ask them if they were in fact Elizabeth’s sister (the Amish)

I never gave her time to answer; I would always run off and keep searching. I so desperately wanted to see her… Even if she would not speak to me. I eventually ended up in a room, which looked just like the one I had started out in. However, this could not be as I had only taken staircases upwards. (Clearing the first floor and methodically working my way up) and there was some sort of situation and Elizabeth’s brother was hurt (Elizabeth does not have a brother) He was fully-grown and a was rather thrown at me. Elizabeth’s father(whom I had never actually met and seemed a bit shorter than me which was wrong as he is infect taller.)

He needed a pen which he grabbed form my shirt as I was holding his son and he hesitantly wrote on my hand items to get for him. Four antibiotics and something else. He is after all a doctor so who was I to question him. (I think he was actually a nuclear physicist. .though I can’t recall for sure) I took the elevator down and was just sort of spun around. He sidetracked me to so many places. Like an underground indoor market. It was just so crowded and I was so out of place…I had lost him on more than one occasion (even though I was carrying him).

At one point I believe he was in a record shop and he begged to hear just one song to which I gave in…meanwhile I bought a few cd’s to which I felt a bit overzealous in my spending as I already had all the cd’s which I had just paid for…and just then he came out and I threw his arm over my back and partially carried him down a white hall and…


I can’t really recall much else.


I just so desperately wanted to see her and even in my dreams am I denied. In reality, it is she that makes these choices, which really crushes me. It is slowly becoming less about the heartbreak and more so about the sincerity in which she expressed her lies…though that is not to say the pain has dissipated in the least bit.

I can’t help but miss her, as hard as I will myself to forget about her I simply cannot let go of what meant so much and defined my entire being. We can’t all be as strong as her.

¶ 1/07/2005 01:26:00 AM //