Call Me Irresponsible

March 10, 2014

Hey ho cats and kittens, Dysu here, n happy spring warmin’, shorts wearin Monday.

One of the best (n worst things) bout bein the Unit that I am is how I jes don’t give the ol proverbial flyin’…

Okay well cursin’s not the best way to get us started now is it?

And already I’m gettin’ off track cause I wanted to talk about…oh yea irresponsiblity.

One of the best things about bein the type of Unit that I am is my continual and complete lack of worry bout how I’m gonna get by…(which is also one of the worst things).

Yes I know most people could only dream of bein so carefree, you yerself often talk about it salad dayswistfully, the green, green salad days of childhood n so on.

The things is, you’ll say, ya can’t possibly do it ’cause of that pesky little thing called “stayin alive”…

But I am almost (and here I might be being kind to myself) incapable of being responsible. It is fer all intense and purposes beyond me…

This quality frees me up fer all sorts of mental hijinks and imaginateering but is seriously puts a strain on the payin bills aspect o’ life.

couchingI have spent years of course trying to hack this puzzle, others have spent years trying to either encourage or force me to gain this pertinent particular set of life skills all to no avail.

I have thourghly examined much of this dysfunction looking for clues to it’s origins both with professional help and on my own…

And over the past couple years even began sharing some of those insights with a wider audience.

Umm…yea that’s you all.

The main purpose of this site was two fold in the beginning (’cause in the beginning I didn’t imagine that anyone else was going to read this madness).Mens sana

1. To have a place to express in words all the…crap o’la that would build up in my head regarding God, politics, social issues etc, so that it wouldn’t spill out of my mouth and annoy everyone in my vicinity, the most often of which was my darlin’ Lil Mouse.

2. To allow the fruit of my loins as it were, in future years, to at least try to get a grasp of, not only the above mentioned and other issues, but the lessons I’d learned from them…*

That was the intent anyway, to contain and explain the dysfunction to what extent I could.

The explain posts are pretty self explanatory so jes consider every other post that doesn’t specifically address my dysfunction, containment.

And yea, I’m actually tryin to go somewhere with this…

My Lil' DogYa see what I haven’t really talked about is how much trouble I have had since Lil’ Mouse left.

No need goin into the details, suffice to say that I started seein’ a counselor(psych.) again.

And the most amazing thing has happened…I mean ya wouldn’t think it after all these years, all these diagnosis, but well hmm…

See the thing is it explains every thing, but most importantly my annoying factor, how I can be so annoying (though I never know that I am being such…)Auraphile

*Oh and my odd use of language & syntax.

Oh and how I’m right and you all r wrong

And then there is how my brain works obsessively on a few single issues while ignoring all else, even to the detriment of my survival.

Oh and my jes saying pretty much exactly what I mean all the time and being confused that other people don’t.

So the thing is, and how it pertains here is, I’m starting a new blog were I will now discuss this new information and what it means to me & my dysfunctionality.

As well as connecting with others whom I may possibly meet along the way who share this interesting and intriguing diagnosis.emp nc

Oh I will definitely keep posting here, but the Dysu posts  will only address the by-product of  my specific neural interpretation of this disorder however, politics, religion & socio-cultural issues.

Wait, what?

Yes, yes, I’m gonna say what it is.

I was wondering how many readers might have already started getting an idea of  what this new diagnosis could be?

Now before I do lets all remember that I have had many diagnosis over the years. None of those of course felt right, many were close, I tried many of them on fer at least a year or more.

But years ago I gave up on the idea that I was anything more than a BPD mess.

That’s why I am seemingly excited by this possible answer, the downside is, I cannot un-learn my way out of this issue.

Oh L and his fab o l’s I sure can drag things out eh?

Asperger’s Syndrome...

There ya go. Maybe at least in some ways things make more sense now fer ya’ll.

Annnyway, so it goes I’ll be back soon with more opinionated tom-foolery soon enough.

If yer interested watch fer my 1st post on my new blog, Asblogger’s Syndrome, comin’ to WP soon.

Heres ya go cats n kittens the last part of my Declaration…there is an Addendum to the Articles of Dysfunction I will see if I can get ‘er up tonight but no promises lol…like anyone is going to be to upset if I don’t get it posted for another couple weeks.
Annnyway hope ya’ll enjoy!


And actually I don’t know why the hell I was asking…like I care what you think.

So you see these cast off units were my family.

And among the other good for nothings, among my new family, it turned out I was pretty good at turning on and dropping out.

And you have to remember that by the time we get to this point it’s now the late seventies. The generation of peace and love was making way for the kids of hate and anarchy…that was me, I was one of them.

Tune in, turn on, drop out, disrupt.

That could have been the new motto.

F-em all was easier to say.

Okay so this is what I had become, by seventeen a completely dysfunctional unit.

As much able to support myself as a thread bare bra supports a 60 year old stripper.

I like to think that this was…

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Hey cats & kittens,
Here’s one of my first posts from a few years ago now…
I thought with all my new visitors it might be a good time to re-visit this series of posts which may help shed some light on je how I got started on the road to dysfunction…
I hope ya’ll enjoy.


In the early seventies, my Dad, who worked for a major airline got transferred to the Land of Oz, Orange County, So Cal USA.the 'ol dysu

That’s where the dysfunction really sets in so I thought we’d start there and ignore much of my early almost “Leave it to Beaver” childhood.

Now I’m not sayin’ that the numerous concussion I had when I was little (pre-move) or that I was never ostracized, or beat up , or mocked by my own family prior to this…

What I’m sayin is when I think back, first I don’t remember much about those earliest Unit days, n second my Lil Dog assures me this is the best place to start…oh it is to laugh.

I’m gonna do my best to lay it out chronologically when possible, without too much detail (long) and emotion(boring).

It will take more than one blog so I’m planning to mix…

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Illustrations fer an early book made on a Mac 512k. summer of ’91

Well Double Yee-Haw everybody it rootin-tootin …pull out yer beret’s and bongos…I’m interrupting my long ass somewhat weepy tale about my poetry story(but featuring very little actual poetry)with some god blessed actual poetry…plus this will be shorter, which means faster to post…’cause truth be told Cat’s & Kittens I am one tired ol unit…I usually get up about five thirty, six  am (no matter what, ever since I been a boy)and well…lol-ing here we are past midnight…but I really wanted to have a little fun with some of the crap I been digging out of my “box o’ writing” (a large plastic lidded bin stuffed full of stuff [some material now over thirty years old]including early art(eob?), poetry etc)…

Anyway before we start that goofiness…how about one of my top ten favorite poems from a great poet(no, not mine, not me, haven’t you been paying attention)

This is a lot of poets “favorite” poem. I don’t know if it’s my “favorite”. I do someday plan to put the first strophe on my body somewhere in tattoo form, maybe forearm with fancy script…anyway

Eating Poetry by Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

Oh…mmm was that delicious or what…grrruff…now compare that to the poem below…I mean keep in mind that this was…1991, I was thirty-one-ish homeless, or just nearly close to out of being homeless by this point, and one opinionated bastard, I mean I was really quite full of myself back then…I mean…yes of course I’ll let you stop laughing before I go on..(wait till ya read a couple of my “Psycho Boy” columns in Pt. 5)

I Chameleon
Lazy lounging lizard
Watch the world through roving eyes
As I sit upon the one great tree

Oh I mean it is to laugh…there were, are some bad poems in that box…but that’s the point isn’t it…writing is really about the process. It’s about writing, and re-writing and perfecting yer craft…speaking of that I’ll leave ya with a funny example of the ‘process’.

Here’s a little poem. I considered it an old poem when I posted it in Golden State Years (the name of a chapbook I have ready to be published hint hint anyone out there interested…anyone…anyone…[insert sound of crickets chirping here])…oh it is to laugh…jes gotta have fun with it…

Anyway I’ll leave you with this…I believe a great example of the editing and growth(I knew this poem had been part of a larger piece but had forgotten just how…differently the same[lol] they were…

First the version as it stands today

My Little Dog

Sitting alone not lonely
Does your brain become a little dog
Mine does
Chasing it’s tail
Round and round
Sometimes I talk out loud
I used to fly
In some odd  past life
Maybe we all did

Okay and here’s the earlier untitled version, from the chapbook “I Chameleon”

so you’re driving down the road of dreams, you’ve got the brights on, but still ya can’t see everything. what’s that at the side of the road? you turn your head but it’s gone, might have been nothing.

tell me your dreams

and i’ll tell you your name

not the one you’ve given to flesh

but the one you use to keep yourself sane

only one pillar holds up your head. it takes more than that to hold up the sky. little man who wears sheets and eats bloody burgers wants to knock em all down, his tongue is his hammer, his God is white.

tell me your fears

and I’ll tell you your faith

not the one you profess you believe

but the one you use to justify hate

and watching GTV, the silver haired, silver tongued, fatherly figure said you’d better believe or God will shut the door on you. smiling he said you’ll be left out in the cold. i went to get my jacket  on.

tell me your loves

and I’ll tell you your doubts

not the ones you try to build on

but the ones you use to keep others out

when sitting lone not lonely, does your brain become a little dog? mine does going round and round chasing its tail. sometimes i talk out loud. i used to fly in a distant past life, so i think did we all.

tell me your thoughts

and I’ll tell you your dreams

not the ones you use to dance

but the ones you use to make believe

i used to fly in a distant past life, so i think did we all.

Wow okay well Cats & Kittens I will be brief I promise…I got a nice reply on Pt. III of my last post, but it echoed  the angry e’s I got from my “hate” club (I’m still not sure why they don’t reply…I’ve told them I will approve them[or why they don’t just stop readin in the first place])…but because I know I go on and on and say some crazy ass shit when I start off just wanting to say something simple I felt like I should maybe make the point I was tryin to make clearer…

And I’m going to do that by using a portion of the my reply to a comment I got from a great WP author himself, Zombie Spirituality, now I’m not gonna put his comment, or my complete reply (which of course ballooned into a small novella), if yer interested ya can go back and look it up…

Okay so here we go…

hopefully this has been fun fer yo also…because I will stick by my original claim, which wasn’t that I can judge a person by what they listen to and watch (though some people of course are easier to pigeon hole than others)…My claim was that people who use to be easily led to be faithful, honest, respectful, hard working machines are now instead easily led to be faithless, disrespectful,  free loving, supposedly free thinking intellectual, all consuming intoxicated working machines,or possibly worse even non-working society wrecking, money hole machines…that’s all…not everyone can be an Astronaut or Mozart, most people are box movers, burger flippers, car salesmen…not everyone can be a crazy writer on WP jacked up on caffine, nicotine and THC, all the while ranting about personal responsibility and the lack of a National moral compass, that takes a  unique machine.

Does that make it clearer, I know sometimes I can obfuscate and blather, hyperbole and sarcastic sweeping generalizations aside aside I am usually tryin to say somethin serious though so feel free to question any of the crazy ass shit I say…Lil’ Mouse does all the time…I’m never saying I’m right…I’m just sayin I believe I’m right…but hell I believed I was right when I voted fer Clinton the second time and look how that turned out…whoops there I go again I better end this thing before it gets out of control.

I’m gonna repeat it again

people who use to be easily led to be faithful, honest, respectful, hard working machines are now instead easily led to be faithless, disrespectful,  free loving, supposedly free thinking intellectual, all consuming, intoxicated, working machines,or possibly worse even non-working faithless, disrespectful,  free loving, supposedly free thinking intellectual, all consuming, society wrecking, intoxicated, money sucking machines…

I stand by that claim, and stand by assertions that it is overall bad news for society…I am not alone, nor did I come up with this theory in a vacuum…Here’s where Lil Mouse will love me…as I credit back a source…the Movie “Idiocracy” which I will leave you with a clip I grabbed from YouTube(If you have not watched this movie you really need to[brought to you by Carls Jr] should be required viewing for every high schooler) …thanks fer readin everybody…Dysfunctional Unit out…

”Trial scene from Idiocracy“. Copyright Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, 2006. It is believed that this short clip satisfies fair use.

Okay well now I know I’m just being unfair, the thing is probably quite  large percentage of WP writers may fall into the arty weirdo I just barely can hold a real job category (as compared to the population at large say), but if you hold a good job, or have held any job for a long period of time (and here I mean a real job, not a job in a record store, tattoo parlor, software development firm) yer belief that you are an arty oddball is only in your head…and to join with our media driven modern  culture promoting the arty oddball loser, the ghetto thug, the overindulged rock or sports celebrity as pinnacles of cultural achievement (so you seem cool to your sheep like friends who are also pretending to be cool) is only hurting the country not helping it…

Here’s one good way to know what kind’a  person you are, help you define yerself(separate from your employment)…Do you like Lady Gaga, think she is all that as it were…think she is arty and edgy?…If so, listen up, you are a worker bee, you should take off the weird make-up, yer lame thrift store concocted moon outfit and get the f back to work…you are neither arty or edgy, what you are is easily led, you are the type of person who should be working mainly in the service industry like say selling cosmetics at JC Penny or behind the counter at a fast food joint…

Devoid & Most Likely Unemployed

Do you consider yerself  kick ass cool, do you listen to  a: Only Metal or b. Only Gangsta Rap…

If yer answer was a: Only Metal, and you think yer a bad ass, more than likely you don’t have a job,. If you do then you are most probably a white, factory automotive, manufacturing or other blue collar worker.

If you answered band you think yer a bad ass it’s even more likely that you don’t have a job, but that if you do you fall in to the same as above category except: either way you

Annoyed & Definitely Unemployed

are more than 90% likely to be black, (exception to this, thirty something white collar office workers who on Saturday night out with the bros, like to relive their suburban high school gangsta days).

None of you are truly bad asses, especially you office workers, so stop promoting and supporting gansta culture, cause though you can separate your thoughts and your behaviors, a lot of kids growing up can’t, they buy into, they believe this shit….some kids, when you tell them to tune in turn on and drop out (I know, I know, too old school) actually do…

That’s why there is a definite exception to this rule, some of the “bad asses” are actually, really, bad asses, they’re not gonna hold jobs, don’t wanna hold jobs, (better to die on yer feet, than live on yer knees, etc, etc…)and ya know, these true rebels living outside of society, but yet functioning within strict guidelines all their own, I understand them , better than I understand most of you…

You…in fact reading this blog are most likely a fan of  Kanye West, Lil Wayne, Katie Perry, Madonna (still?)or Justin Bieber,  maybe even Maroon Five (guilty pleasure right).

A fan of  The Voice, The View, The Talk, The Walk, alright I made that last one up is the point is, you probably are white, female, work in an office, possibly in human resources, maybe in health care, or an Elementary school teacher, you also, most likely like to think you are still edgy…

Yer about as edgy as yer motto…(and ya know how much I love to mock this one Cat’s & Kittens)…Live, Laugh, Love, which along with yer edgy mission statement, Live like no one is watching…no wait it’s Laugh like there’s no tomorrow…no crap…Dance till it hurts…oh well ya know the one….

Listen and I hate to break it to you, but yer not even remotely close to the town where edgy once lived some years back now….

I know that I’ve gone way off the beaten track here, way deep into unexplored territory through this three part extravaganza…but why, what have I been trying to say….no I mean really…What the hell have I been trying to say?

Oh yea thanks, when I am talking about culture and responsibility, you have to remember that fer some of us, it is our responsibility to be the intellectuals, the artists, the weirdo deviants, I’m okay with all that, but we are supposed to be small sub cultures, not the culture at large..that’s my point, that’s my only point…I don’t want the rest of the country to behave like me…like with my own children I want society to be better than the worst among us.

Yet here we are every day every body tryin to out media-fy, hell out socialnetworka-fy each other in an never ending self pleasuring dysfunctional cycle of shocking over indulgence and staged guilt…


All right so here we are back again…and as good as any a place to start is when I left the land of Oz for the frozen north, October of 1994 I was determined to learn to be a good worker bee, I had two small kids (already had messed up and lost custody and relinquished visitation for my first son). I put my worker cap on, belittled and beat myself up (like a drill instructor would have[only I was doing it too myself at age 34] and was much crueler given I knew all my own weakness and foibles).

I barely pulled it off at first, but with steady application and try and try again mentality (okay so no punching other employees at work…check) After a few years I was doing pretty good, I had trained myself to be, at least fer however many hours a day you were willing to pay me, a good responsible person. (remember I was nearing forty at this point)

Now this is back some years, Ex 1 was still in the picture, but though I’d learned to behave at work, in my private life I was still pretty much one of Peter Pan’s Lost Boys…Is it any wonder then at some point she left with the kids (temporarily) back to Mom, back to Oz…

Well okay that was a wake up call, I still had work to do. I pulled up my boots, pulled up ’em up tight, then pulled up ’em up even tighter cinched ’em with drawstring and wrapped the whole thing in duct tape.  I worked harder, worked better, lived better (almost all my bad behaviors had been conquered[almost Cat’s n’ Kittens but we’re gettin to that*])…

I actually ended up in a professional job, a real job, had my own office with my name and title on my door (in order to accomplish this, to get this far, I had to, in essence, kill the other “me”, the weirdo artist, so that I could not only put away want and focus on need, but fit in with the “normies” [who incidentally almost all viewed themselves as weirdo artist types]) and continue to be employed. I was making real money, and working 50 hours or more a week…

I only pulled this high a level of employment though for a short time, and only because I had an excellent, understanding boss…I am a dysfunctional unit, but I have learned to explain that (hopefully in a way each new

Dizzying Heights of Success

employers understands). This boss worked very well with me and allowed me a wide latitude of odd behaviors* lol (singing out loud, foul language)

However like any unit worth his weight in dysfunctions, I eventually cracked*, the carefully constructed new unit I had become, though well polished in almost every visble aspect, still held the same original flaws.

Though I could see, know, and understand how to behave, I was not very good at actually doing. I was certainly never going to be able to reach and achieve the sort of level of normalcy you need to be successful in this land of winners…it was too late fer me(if I’d ever even stood a chance at all)…I’d started training myself far too late, things I was learning at thirty-five I should have been learning at thirteen…

In this last cracking, oh some five years ago now, I lost everything, for a second time..lol…second wife, second house…oh it is to laugh

But don’t get me wrong, this last time I stood at the edge of the cliff of responsibility and jumped off..After fourteen years or so of trying I realized either the above was true, a:I’d started too late, or b: in whatever way it was that I was dysFUNctional, it doomed or fated me to behaving irresponsibly (left turns)and doomed (or fated or whatever) me to be the unit I was and, either way, or both together didn’t matter, I had to accept it….

Now I don’t know any of you, my smart and oh so intelligent readers,  personally, but I’ll bet a good chunk of you think “that’s me”

But and while I’m not judging you, and it very well may be true…

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