Preambled fate (Revised)

I re-recorded the suicide audio authored by MM and stored it privately on my other website.  For now, it will not be released for public viewing.  It occurred Christmas Eve 2020 and I was not present.  It was bequeathed to me by an ex girlfriend who wanted to prove he was insane. 

It is a plethora of self induced violent driven language with moments of self involved tragedy, inflicted verbalization to his girlfriend at the time that no one can understand him, no one can rescue him, not even himself as he adds the final touches of a stainless steel knife.  That is the result of him expecting the impossible.  A carnal, mortal human being to save him and trying to vilify her for being unable to save him before the III Act. Not only did he refuse to listen to her...it was a solo Shakespearean unplanned moment of truth when he realizes his circular reasoning is flawed and insists that dying is his only recompense.  Let us applaud Othello as the blue squad cars roll up his driveway and expend taxpayer dollars for a regressive alcoholic who created this drama by way of neglect, who only wants an audience driven exit out of the world not a Japanese hara-kari act of nobility.   The land frozen at Christmas, his declaration that life is over and yet he survives another year to look for empathy in strangers knowing he will reveal that final plot twist of death and suicide to all the women who have failed him....as long as there are pre purchased tickets.  LIne up Match.com pigeons, your moment is coming.

Full circle

No empty words, 
no white lies, 
no joking friends,
no compromise.

-Keith Green

Well, this has been a crazy day.  I got a call from a police dept. on a follow up report that was made in early Dec.  I didn't take any further action between then and now so I was confused.  I thought maybe my editorial in the Superior Telegram may have created a public relations crisis within the Police Dept,   I will find out Tuesday.

I came to some realizations today and since my blog is getting 200-300 hits a day, I need to clarify a few positions.

1.  When I am presenting a story in the category of novel writing, I am molding and presenting the characters based on real life but some of their characteristics and descriptions may change to the overall theme I am projecting to my novel.  I am not planning to publish many more entries on the novel because it is coming out for publication by the end of March or early April.
2.  When I blog about heartfelt pain about a certain relationship ending, it may be just that.  However, I am holding back somewhat because of the high viewership these days.
3.  I have used this blog in the past to work through issues with those I have conflict with but it also to expose my political writings, former articles in Duluth Reader and to promote my radio show.  This is a promotional tool not just a gutt spilling venture.

I talked to a former friend/lover today and in some ways, it felt normal.  I think by not talking to him much since 1/9/2019 it has caused an emotional strain on me but the time and distance has allowed me to reflect and understand our differences.  I made two mistakes in the "relationship" or "Liaison"
Although I did not ask him for much or demand much, my biggest problem with him is non planning and dishonesty.  I think toward the end, he was trying to tell me the truth through clues and now that I look back and read texts or reflect on things he said, he was trying to tell me their was another woman present in his life.

I don't think he had the full capability of telling me the truth.  Although, toward the end he kept emphasizing the word friend, we were still full fledged lovers through January 2nd when he said something to me very insulting after lovemaking and I transitioned our relationship as cuddle buddies.  We never got to experience that because I discovered the other woman there on Jan. 9th and things pretty much unraveled since then.

However, after reviewing the texts, we were pretty close comrades.  We text each other 4-10 times a day, even more so when I was in California from Dec. 24 to 31st.   So, it's weird going from fantastic lovers, to questioning partners to nothing.

All this time my love intensified and receded but the overall caring factor has not fully diminished.  There are days when I am very angry and hurt for his lies and there are other days when images and memories creep in.  When I talked to him today, even though it was business, I was reminded on how good our communication was at times and that at times, he was trustworthy and acceptable.  That is why I am entering a confession plea that I was too critical of him during the darkest days.  It does make me feel, however, that I could not alone meet his needs nor anyone else single-handedly.

I could never be the kind of person to "leave things hanging" or to cut my phone off from someone I cared about.  I could not be that cruel.  I would find the need to explain myself even if I did not want to continue the relationship.  I am signing off now because I just worked one hour on a political editorial for another newspaper and I am tired.

The old neighborhood

The neighborhood still looks the same
adjacent to the block of understanding
4 blocks down from Pizza Man
now just a corner between destiny & restraint

The pentagon shaped houses
the way the snowbanks overtook reason
the slippery alley
The brick church that swallowed up confessions

He lay there still between the sheets
and the play button
underneath, the buried jonquils
and crumbled sunflowers
damp and frozen in the ageless lives
bearing shelter

to the wounds that lay before them
Her tears flowed
and now there just is the
echoes of laughter and hollow memories
of a prolonged one night stand
the roses that lay dead like petals
on the ever changing white lawn

her last claims bypassed from a dead ringtone
the scraping snow plow
the death through shadows
melted under the lights of Keyport
as she doubled another twenty.

MM7272

Chaper 2 The edge of paradise MM and me

Where do I start?  A cascading myriad of mood swings that parallel on an infinite universe of road blocks.  One day he wanted all the things life had granted him.  Another day, he would lose the essence of those mental objects he possessed due to his own contrary nature - a legume of dark secrets known as his blockheaded mind.

She wasn't cultured for such a socially marginalized creature- restricted by the fact that he built this self enclosed barrier.  His drinking made it impossible for him to drive on weekends, a pre planned crutch that prevented the possibility of a real date.  As far as awareness, he was acutely aware of most things that created this moment, the moment where he chose to fully abandon the sweetness of life into a prolonged mourning of his second wife, Tamia.

His impression was deep, like a moon crater that assaulted her being, in fact, every inch of her body was awakened to his texts, phone calls and late night siestas.  She was bound to him purely in a physical sense, his background didn't matter or the signs.  His mind was a loose tunnel of curves and overtures, dancing to the moment of nocturnal arousal.

Every time she missed him, if she wrote it down, the loose papers would pile up to the ceilings of heaven and then perhaps float into an oblivion of amplified feelings. That is how she felt when she left him for one week in California but their communication intensified.  Texts became pictures, he was locked into visuals.  Visual pictures is what stimulated him not actual words.

The urge to resist him was stronger than the need to devour his flesh.  In a more somber moment, she once said, "I know who I am in Christ."  She quoted a Bible verse and said, "Do you know this one?"  In a moment's pause, he said "I really don't know the scriptures that well." He claimed to know God but God was a remote figure to him, ready to strike him down if he strayed off the path.

The meandering ground level of his house had ancient schrapnel traps of a family life suspended and a lifestyle set back to the 90s.  He had pictures of himself as a young child and a picture of his father in his 20s which he showed off frequently.  He belonged to a place nobody could reach, a place preserved in time before the hurt tore him apart like a refugee. He kept his family picture of Tamia in the closet.  The wave of blue carpet enriched her feet after sex which led her in darkness to the bathroom, adjacent to the kitchen.  He refused to turn on any lights.  She sometimes b-lined to the fridge where he had mini Orange gatorades.  Her thirst was often quenched after the ritual. Their shared bottle of mouthwash was on the upper shelf in the bathroom.  The orange gatorade combined with the sting of mouthwash rekindled her.  He had sucked the orifice out of her being each night, his tongue protruding each inner part.  His lips were red and ripe, she loved his lips and every willing thing he was anxious to do.  She equally pleased him in a way that would make him quiver and draw up his fists out of pleasure.  Their communion was like a humming engine in the night coupled with the dark seed of winter and high snowbanks. 
It was fulfillment at its best.
In bed he was the Green Lantern, but outside of it he was a man full of doubts, fragile thoughts and somewhat regressive.

My MeToo story unedited

#MeToo “An Inside Job”   by Jane Hoffman

I live in Duluth and drive to a school every day in Superior.  He lives in Superior and drives to a school in Duluth. I met him at a lounge/restaurant in Superior after school one day.  I met him in a casual manner, the way you give someone a high five after a sports event. When I first met him, he had a hat on and a nice smile, seemingly warm  He sat next to me once in my favorite spot at Keyport and 4 days later, he sat in the same spot. This time, I said hi. We fist bumped after I told him something good that happened.  We ended up talking at the bar and he gave me his phone number on paper. He wrote like a girl in accented letters, almost sensationally curvy. I tucked the phone number in the compartment of my car.  A few days later he called. His first text to me ever was "Do you want to make love?" I texted back. "Maybe not on the first date." I went to his house and he was watching MASH. He had all the old DVDs, a series collection.  He put on a movie called "Shutter Island" with Leo DiCaprio. He was donning a robe, a bald head and glasses. He did not quite look like the figure at the bar but more like a retired referee relaxing for the night. I don't think he ever hit "play" on the movie.  The same rotational song just kept playing as I heard the droning music and wacko patient scenes circulating as he planted his lips upon my face.

I don't know what happened from that moment on, but I suddenly got sucked into a Kim Basinger/Mickey Rourke 9 1/2 Weeks movie.  After 3 years of furlough, I was suddenly caught up in an unmitigated love affair. It was magical and transcendent. The synapses of my brain were open to a new range of emotions I had not experienced in a long time.  It was nothing I really weighed, I was caught up in the moment over a period of weeks.

Over the course of several weeks, there were certain darts of realities that I could not unequivocally ignore.  He discussed his marriage of 19 years to a woman named Tamia who was apparently the apple of his eye. She left him for another man and lied about her whereabouts one night.  He told me they lost their house in Duluth in 2011 to a UHC layoff. He also blatantly blamed Barack Obama for the layoff she received from United Health Care. I am a political scientist and talk show radio host so I examined the information he presented to me.  United Health Care routinely has large layoffs. They also had several federal contracts cut off for multiple billing and were penalized that year for mismanagement. A prominent Medical organization, UCare, terminated their contract with UHC as well. Barack Obama is a personal hero of mine.  He is 1/2 African like my 6'3" West African son and I don't like when people say blanket statements about presidents I have liked. One night a week later, he called Obama a nigger. His grandfather was knifed by a Black man in Chicago in a form of necklace and my new love interest told me his father hated Blacks.  "He can't stand the Black race." This posed a problem for me, being that when I was 20 years old, I left UW-LaCrosse on an exchange program to go to North Carolina Central to get involved in the Civil Rights Movement. My goal was to be a Civil Rights activist. I was the only white living on campus in 1980 as a Midwest transplant.  I received no disrespect as the sole minority.

Over the weeks his behavior changed radically.  He intensified his demands on me physically but also simultaneously gave me other messages that were hurtful and abrasive.  He said "He didn't want to be in a relationship," "I want to be alone," "Women have screwed me over," "I cannot trust women." “For some reason, I only trust you.” I also discovered he was an alcoholic.  He could only navigate a 6 block radius in his neighborhood on the weekend because he started drinking at 7:00 a.m. on Saturdays and Sundays. Despite all his flaws, I showed him mercy and provided emotional support. I drove him to my place on a Friday night after a work Christmas party because he did not want to be in his own neighborhood.  He said, "I need to get out of here." His father was on a feeding tube and he had to change it every 2-6 hours because one surgery had failed. He made his father soup on the weekend. One time when he got drunk, he uttered incoherent thoughts- said he was a Gulf War Veteran and many of his friends died. This was not true because in his younger days, he was severely overweight and he would not have attained the Army weight requirement.

I continued to see him because of the 9 1/2 weeks aspect.  One night in early December, he had to leave at 4:30 a.m. to plow the school he worked at.  He had a dental appointment that day and only needed to go into work in the morning I slept in his bed and he returned around 7:00 a.m.  I was asleep on my back, comfortable in pillows. When he returned from the school snow plow job, he crawled on top of me while I was asleep and shoved his penis in my mouth literally.  He then laid on top of me with his face toward my feet trying to arouse me. I couldn't move and I didn't want to do what he was suggesting. I had trouble breathing and I tried to push him off.  I couldn't so I just laid there still. I remained silent until I garnered the courage to tell him to get off. "Please get off" I whispered. He didn't understand why I was not interested. I ran to the bathroom and cried, pushing away my tears.  I didn't understand why he wanted this from me.

I had been patient throughout the relationship as he complained about his ex wife, how few people in the family rarely helped him with his dad, how he needed a house appraisal to get his dad off the mortgage, etc.  Rarely did he ask me questions about my own life. I knew that I was becoming codependent and a fix it person, trying to fix the holes in his own life, to be there for him. I became attached to him emotionally because of the physical liaison and rare kindness he showed me when sober.  He was a good cook and would give me plastic containers of leftovers.

I did report the crime two days later when he refused to discuss it.  He would not take me seriously and refused to answer his door one night.  I gave him a 24 hour notice and told him that if he didn't want to table the matter, I had no choice but to go to the police.  He refused. I had evidence at the time of DNA and a bite mark on my chest from him that police took a picture of on a body cam.

It was a feeling of regret and fear that I felt after going to the police.  I did not know if the police would believe me or if I had done the right thing.  At that time, I had just been to the doctor for another sex related dilemma, a urinary tract infection.  He had also told me he would do anal sex on me and I said "No” emphatically. He said, "too bad, it's too late" and one night forced entry. At this point, I don't know why but he talked me into dropping the charges 2 days later.  He said he would lose his job at the school and bring shame to his family. No one could efficiently care for his father. I did reinstate the charges shortly after with a local officer in terms of following up for an interview.

We remained strained friends although it was not comfortable. I had taken on the role of the person trying to lead him to Alcoholic Anonymous or church.  One night, on January 9th, I went to his house 3 hours early and a woman was there. She told me they had been seeing each other one year and he had proposed after two weeks.  Surprisingly, everyone was calm and discussion ensued. He complained I had been to the police over him. She said "Martin has done the same thing to me, many times. It's so ridiculous when he does that."  She didn't seem to mind that I was there or had been through a similar experience. When she found correlating texts in both of our phones (plus another woman), she said, "Oh, Martin, you just need attention."  I felt she was sympathetic to the wrong cause and I left. The whole time I was with him, he said he couldn't be in a relationship because of his father's illness. I was the other woman without knowing it. There were no traces of her existence in his house.

I was able to confront him twice since this incident.  The first time he sobbed when I handed him a letter. He never initiated an apology for all his betrayal, lies or behavior.  The second time, I confronted him, he had no explanation or apology for the way he treated me. I asked him why he treated me poorly and he said, "I don't know."  His wife, Tamia, in my estimation did not leave him because she wanted to do him wrong. She left because he could not face his actions and consequences for his behavior.  He is now probably struggling with the fact that another woman did him wrong. I was the only one who had the courage to challenge his attitude and violence toward women. After one or two drinks, he will placate the situation in his mind and believe I was just another woman who did him in..