One more thought concerning my brother. He goes through a lot of guilt about what he does. There was some irony I experienced on the Saturday after Good Friday. I didn't find out about my brother until Easter Sunday, but Saturday I was listening to KORN's song "Alone I break". Here are the lyrics:



Pick me up
been bleeding too long
Right here, right nowI'll stop it some how
I will make it go away
can't be here no more
Seems this is the only way
I will soon be gone
these feelings will be gone
these feelings will be gone
Now I see the times they change
leaving doesn't seems so strange
I am hoping I can find
where to leave my hurt behind
All this shit I seem to take
all alone I seem to break
I have lived the best I can
Does this make me not a man?
Shut me off
I am ready,
Heart stops
I stand alone
Can't be on my own
I will make it go away
can't be here no more
Seems this is the only wayI will soon be gone
these feelings will be gone
these feelings will be gone
Now I see the times they change
leaving doesn't seems so strange
I am hoping I can find
where to leave my hurt behind
All this shit I seem to take
all alone I seem to break
I have lived the best I can
Does this make me not a man?
Am I going to leave this place?
What is it I'm hanging from?
is there nothing more to come? (am I Gunna leave this place?)
Is it always black in space?
Am I going to take it's place?
Am I going to leave this race? (Am I going to leave this race?)
I guess god's up in this place?
what is it that I've become?
is there something more to come? (more to come)
Now I see the times they change
leaving doesn't seems so strange
I am hoping I can find
where to leave my hurt behind
All this shit I seem to take
all alone I seem to break
I have lived the best I can
Does this make me not a man? [x2]



These lyrics were playing on the night before I found out about my brother. I thought about him when I heard these words, wondering if he wanted to give up on this life; me feeling at times that death would be a release for his weary soul.

And then there was a moment when I wanted to stop caring, wanted to give up on him as well, and the next song I heard was Bob Dylan's song "What Good Am I?"


What good am I if I'm like all the rest,
If I just turned away, when I see how you're dressed,
If I shut myself off so I can't hear you cry,
What good am I?

What good am I if I know and don't do,
If I see and don't say, if I look right through you,
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin' sky,
What good am I?

What good am I while you softly weep
And I hear in my head what you say in your sleep,
And I freeze in the moment like the rest who don't try,
What good am I?

What good am I then to others and me
If I've had every chance and yet still fail to see

Bridge: If my hands tied must I not wonder within
Who tied them and why and where must I have been

What good am I if I say foolish things
And I laugh in the face of what sorrow brings
And I just turn my back while you silently die,
What good am I?


I was humbled. Can't give up on him. Won't give up on him, because what good am I if I do?

Concerning the Pope

a moment of silence . . .

may all our lives be like that of the Pope's

may we come into this world crying and screaming
and others rejoicing

may we leave this world with others mourning our absence
while we rejoice

Thank you for being a messenger of peace Pope
In a world filled with hate and war,
thank you for creating balance.

Brotherman on the run

So, for those of you who don't know or haven't heard about my family. Here's the deal. I have 2 older brothers and 2 younger sisters. However, today I would like to talk about my brother Roy, my protector as a kid.

When Roy (who I called Bunny as a kid) was younger he had many conflicts with my parents, specifically with my dad. My dad was rather physically abusive to Roy when we were kids, though my dad excuses himself by saying that it was what he knew. I believe that. I got to see my parents grow as parents as I got older. I had the wonderful opportunity to experience their change. I have a little sister (Little Boo or Joy for the rest of you turkeys) who is almost 12 years younger than me, and she was only spanked one time. Roy got the worst of it. I got seconds, and Michele (two years younger than me) got thirds. Except Michele may have moved into a tie or passed me when I went away to college. I was no longer around to protect her.

In any case, when Roy went into the Navy he went wild -- drinking, smoking (cigs and pot), and wilding out sexually. He broke the rules in the Navy consistently, as he broke the rules in our house when he was growing up. He was more traditionally oppositional than I was. He ran away from home, got into heated conflicts with my dad, cut school, failed classes. Me? -- I would burn down parks, shoplift, torture animals, etc. Eventually, Roy got kicked out of the Navy. He refused to follow the rules, testing positive for pot, missing duty, amongst other things.

When he got out of the Navy he was introduced to crack-cocaine. He got hooked -- fall of 1993. I'll never forget it. It was my first year in grad school. Stressed me out because he went missing for a couple of weeks. I had no clue why until he came back. Then I poured all of my energy into trying to find him help. This is what happens naturally the first time family members try to deal with addiction in their family. It took me years to learn that until the individual truly wants help, they will consistently return to the streets.

I would like to fast forward you to present day. My brother had been clean for about 5 months. He was involved with a Christian group that offered up support, shelter, and a vehicle for his use. On Good Friday, my brother decided to return to the streets. My mom has gone into a slight depression. She's tired of believing in his change only to be let down again. I understand this, but I also have not let myself become too emotionally invested in him during recent times. After the 10th time of being burnt, one must learn other means of adapting to the situation.

Most people believe that my brother is crack addicted and that's what keeps him going back. I used to believe this as well, but the more I look at it I see something that others seem to have overlooked. Crack, like alcohol, are symptoms of my brother's larger problem: SEX.

My brother is a sex addict. It has never been officially diagnosed, but from my clinical assessment, (I have to use my doctorate in psychology for something), sex is the reason he returns to the streets. In fact, he has told me more recently that when he's been back out on the streets, he will rarely use crack because the high is not a high anymore. Yet, the situations he finds himself in sexually -- I couldn't even write about it on a public blog. He has some strong unresolved sexual issues that are being overlooked due to people's hang-ups about sex. I, amongst others, have missed the boat for years. When he's not out on the streets sex is a dirty thing for him. He denies his sexual self, praying that God will take away any sexual desire he feels. He punishes himself if sexual thoughts arise. He has no clue how to embrace his sexual self without allowing it to rule him, and because he attempts to lock down his sexuality under some puritanical and self-afflicting guideline, it lashes out in pure ID form with no EGO or SUPEREGO to control it.

I believe that until he addresses this significant part of himself, he will continue to return to the streets. Certainly, my brother is an addict, but crack is the sub-addiction to his sexual cravings, and in the home we grew up, I am not terribly surprised that sexuality would play such an important role in his demise.

In our home, (I suppose like many homes), sexuality was not discussed, it was condemned at best, yet when i was 16 I found out about a brother that I never knew I had. At 21, I figured out that my mom was pregnant with Roy before they got married. My understanding about sex from my father was three fold: 1. it wasn't that good 2. didn't last long 3. and one does not know when they will climax. Quite frankly, it scared me to death. However, though I have a healthier view about sex than my brother, I see as well how it plays out significantly in my life. I love discussing the topic, I debated before going into grad school if I would pursue becoming a sex therapist, it played an early role in taking away my innocence when I was 10, I have scholastic books discussing the theme, I am drawn to art films that involve the issues of sex and gender, I have hundreds of books and DVDs (NOT playboy magazines and porn videos, you pervys:) that deal with the many facets of sexuality. I am certain that my upbringing plays a role with my fascination of the topic, and I am certain it has played a destructive role in my brother.

My focus in helping my brother now will be to help find him find help that will address this larger addiction of sexual appetite, a terrain many Americans are afraid to openly address.

Terri Schiavo

Terri died the other day, and family feud still goes on with husband and in-laws and society. We are a beast. Are we not? Trying to pull all our efforts to play Judge and judgment. It was a fascinating ride on many accounts, and none of them had to really do with the simple issue: a woman was dying; a woman had died.

Terri had three deaths, one took place 15 years ago when she went into her altered, faded state; another death happened when the battle between parents and husband and government commenced; and the final death was more of a release from this world and all our silliness.

I do not feel sad that Terri has died. In truth, I rejoice. I can't help but to place myself in her position and what I would want. Beyond a shadow of doubt, (and let this serve as a living will), do not perform any extraordinary means to keep me alive. Allow me to pass from this life into the next. Death is not the enemy; it is but a passage way into a rebirth or at worst: silence. "Living" in Terri's condition is not living at all, and I hope that my loved ones will have enough love to release me from that prison. I am not just a heart beating, a brain flicking, uncontrolled smiles, eyes fluttering. My essence is in my aliveness, my passion, my voice. When these are no more -- I am no more. Do not fear death, my friends, though sad, it is Life's last signature. Life's way to begin again.

That being said, the process at which Terri had to pass from this world into the next was not very humane, whether she could feel pain or not. After the judgment was made by the courts to not reinsert the feeding tube, they were in essence passing a judgment of death. So be it, but let's make it smooth and painless. Why not give her a lethal dose of morphine? I did not understand that. Were we pretending that by not reinserting the tube that we were not responsible for her death? Make no mistake: the sentence was death when it was ordered for the feeding tube not to be reinserted. Why not make the death gentle? We, (i.e., the courts), show more respect for inmates on death row than we did for Terri, at least the ones who die by lethal injection. We show more respect for horses with broken legs, than we did for Terri. I did not understand this.

I have to admit, it was rather humorous when the president made some statement about erring on the side of life rather than death. Was anyone else laughing at this two-faced idiocy? Come on! His spokespersons should have cautioned him gently about what to say and what not to say. Did George Bush look at his own record? Did he realize that he was responsible for 152 death row murders when he was governor of Texas, including the murders . . . I mean . . . Executions of the mentally ill? Did he forget that he is ultimately responsible for all the "Friendly" fire and killing of innocent civilians in the war he started in Iraq? Have some dignity -- REMAIN SILENT. Don't insult the American intelligence by babbling some political rhetoric that holds as much truth as a colander of water. The saddest part about his statements is that I don't think many of his supporters realize the irony, or will acknowledge the irony.

Finally, on this Terri Schiavo case, I hope that the husband's motives were as pure as he stated they were. I hope they were not just spiteful. I fear the worst. I believe that he loved her, but what made him not relinquish his rights as a husband over to her parents? Was it just to protect Terri's wishes not to be kept alive on life support or feeding tubes? I've heard some ramblings that he refused to divorce her because of his faith beliefs. I hope he did not say this. For if this is true, then his faith would include not living in sexual union with a woman outside of marriage. Michael is currently engaged and has two children with his fiance.

So many issues . . . So convoluted.