There is not enough tequila in the whole damn country to help me forget these last twenty four hours.
And just how much of this disaster am I responsible for - probably all of it... probably all of it...
When I fuck things up I really fuck things up... talent.
This may very well be the last post I make at these Deringer Files - it was fun while it lasted - but I can't deal with other peoples insanity when I have my own to deal with -it is just not fun any more and what started out as an experiment in therapy may have turned into a complete disaster - someone has it out for me - but I will still be around... lurking and you can always find me here rifling through these files.
We close it all with this letter that the girl we call Dagmar sent me today - since others claiming to be who I believe them not to be are giving their side of the story - and many of them just don't make any God damn sense whatsoever... She decided to throw hers into the damn hat as well...so here it is a little bit of crazy, from the only letter I know to be genuine...
Drink up amigos... I am way ahead of you.
When my father first
brought you home you were a mess, your face was still swollen and
bloody and cut up, you could not see out of one eye, your jaw was
busted, you walked like an old dog from the street that was run over
by a car that destiny kept alive for her own perverted amusement.
And you freightened me.
I hid behind my oldest sister and my mother, but you don't remember
that because you could not see well. I looked at you through the
small space between them and hide my face from you.
You looked like a
monster. You were broken and I remember my mother saying that night
to my father (when my parents thought I had gone to sleep but I could
not, because there was a strange monster in the house), my mother
said you were beyond fixing, that you were too lost in your hatred
and anger and that you were a ghost in the world that death did not
even want.
I did not know then what
my mother meant about all those things because I was so young but I
truly do remember those words she was saying.
I would not understand
them until many years later when I would find out how true it is that
you are damaged beyond the help of the shamans you go hunting for.
But I think they are all
just too sad to tell you the truth my love – this bitch of a life
beat you good and hard and no matter how much you try to pretend that
you are over it all – you are not, and you do not belong here among
the barely living in this shit world of ours
But here you are always a
step ahead of the reaper, but maybe like my mother says, he gets
close enough and realizes that it's you and he throws you back.
I know I am not the first
person to tell you this and I will not be the last – you were not
made for these times we are in.
Your dreams are beyond
this worlds understanding. Your soul is lonely for a time that may
never had existed. Your heart breaks for a love that can never fill
you up, because it is something you simply do not believe in anymore
And I know that and I
accept that, but I do not have to like it.
But here is what I think,
my lovely dreamer, and it is the truth that every one knows but you.
You have to empty your
heart of the love you did not get to give before you can fill it with
the love I want to give you............................ I said it.
But you already know.
Querido mongolon, I know
the truth. I have spoken with Frankie, and everyone who has met him
and heard the true story of that romance you scaled down to just some
passing affair as you made your way back home, some little fling with
another young girl - sick and lonely and afraid – that you
crawlled out of the depths for only to stumble back down into it when
she was gone. It was more than what you make it out to be.
And the way Frankie tells
it – that was a love that only Russian poets could dream up and the
city of Asuncion has the scars and scorches of that romance on it
still as proof of the love you made, poeta, as you said – “where
is the proof I will leave behind for the love I made”
It is there. Cris knows
it, Jan knows it, Tommy knows it, and Dom knew it. My father knows
it – the whole damn tribe knows it. And you know it. But you wish
to deny it.
She is the one that broke
you – not that Elsa. And that girl Carmen, stupid girl, is just
another poor victem of the passion that you scoundered on the slow
train into hell. You damn stupid fool.
I want to tell you.
I like the way you
remember me and the way you tell me the stories of when I was young.
You remember it all different than the rest do, but you were always
watching me as a stranger from the shadows even when you were in the
light. You were always distant from the family, from the crowd.
Watching over me like a guardian angel – that one outcast trying to
buy his way back home by looking after some spoiled brat girl – you
were that wounded dog in my fathers house... that is what we called
you. My mother started that, she was so cruel to you, but I imagine
all mothers have been cruel to you.
The wounded dog in my
fathers house. That loyal dog that sat at the masters feet waiting
with dignity and pride for the scraps from the table. To proud to beg
and to broken to run away. And that mean little girl tugging at your
broken ear and teasing you and calling you names and sticking her
tongue at you.
But you were there to
chase the other monsters away and you watched over us in the night,
sitting in the dark looking out the window at the night - I watched
you many times just looking and listening for other ghosts and
monsters and you never slept until the sun started to come out and
then you would close your eyes and pretend to wake up.
But I knew you did not
sleep. Did you know that I watched you. Did you know that I knew your
secret.
I have been collecting
and uncovering your secrets since I was little
But I do not want to know
them all because I do not want to know the whole truth about the
wounded dog in my fathers house.
My father never told me
about what happened to you and how he found you and all the things
that really led to how you came to be that broken dog from the
street. I have never asked him and I have never asked you and I never
will – but will oneday the truth I uncover, and then learn
something that should have stayed unspoken and undcovered?
I'll tell you when I
knew.
It was when I had gotten
mad at my mother and sisters and I said I was going to run away and I
ran away into the fields with only my bag with a notebook and a
markers and my hair brush and I was out there all day until it
started to get dark and when I came out of the field you were sitting
in the middle of the path just looking into the direction of where I
wlked out... just sitting there waiting for me and I started to cry
and you carried me back home.
You did not say anything
you just let me cry and I wanted to say I was sorry for being mean to
you all the time but then I thought you might think I was weak if I
did tell you but you let my cry all the way home and you did not say
anything and you put me down before we got to the house and let me
walk in on my own.
And I walked past my
mother without saying anything and I walked past my father and went
to my room
But then I stopped to
look back at my father and he looked at you and that was when he knew
that you were going to be part of our lives forever.
That is what he said.
And my mother knew it
too. But honestly, I do not really know why my mother has it in for
you... well maybe now because she hates that I feel the way I do for
you, but for back then, I could not figure it out, but once we were
at church and it is one time when father was worried about you that
my mother lited a candle for you and she said for you to be safe (so
that father could stop to worry about you)... did you never expect
that to happen my love.
You were right about
saying that you were the most worse student of my father. He did say
it too, but his love for you was always there and you are with the
most favorite of people in the world for him.
My father is getting old
dear, and I hope that you will returnsoon to see him.
Do you know that my
father always knew everything you were doing, where you were and when
you were in trouble and that when you joined up with Cris and Dom
that he always followed you and what you were up to – I know that
you know that but when we are sitting at the table eating and my
father would look upset (it was the only time he would get upset or
worried was when it was about you, because my father is a strong and
smart man and you know he does not worry about anything) but when he
was upset everyone knew that it was because he had been given news
from someone in the network about you.
And my mother would look
at my father and he would shake his head and raise his hands the way
apologetic fathers do trying to find and excuse for their bad sons
and say “Victor... I just don't know” and he would look over at
me and shake his head and he would say “That boy never learns”
and he would say the grace and we would eat and my mother would start
to talk about something and I would ask what happened to Victor and
my mother would yell at me and my father would just make something up
that was nothing about you.
But he did then and still
does today keep track of all these men but there are some that
everyone knows are his favorites and they seem to be the most broken
ones like you.
My father says that you
are chasing after the phantoms of disaster and the world will
destroy itself without any help from you if you just let it happen it
will – but father refuses to see that the anger of the young boy
has flourished into something more fierce now in the man.
Let the world fall apart
my love as we watch from the mountains or far off from the shore –
like you have said before. It does not need you but to put out the
flames on the final night when it is time for those better men to
rebuild it all... and then you must slip away into the shadows again,
because that new world will have no place for the men that did the
slaughtering, the way the world casts away broken soldiers and what
else do you have to give this world and what else is there for you to
take from it but my love.
And now it is my turn to
tell you
Yes I am afraid.
I am afraid of the anger
that you keep at bay for my sake when I am around. I am afraid of
the hatred that still grows that you will never get rid of. I am
afraid of that pain that still burns inside of you because I know it
will never fade. I am afraid of the ghost that you chase –
Veronica, because no woman will ever be able to compete with her. And
I am afraid when you go chasing after the ghost of her in those dark
places in the night and in your mind and in your soul, because
darling maybe one day you will not come back and maybe up to now you
have been lucky... but that devil wants his pound of flesh... I know,
you already made your deal, but I know you too well, my love, you
still have debts that need to be paid in those dark places on the
run.
I am afraid that I can
not give you what you need or want and I am afraid that you might not
give me what I need and want and I am afraid that maybe what this is
is not love but something more simple and less expensive and that it
is something than can be easily discarded or forgotten and left
behind in some closet... like the way you tried to forget Veronica.
Who will you find to
guard that shoe box of the memories of me Victor?
I am afraid of the things
you will write about me when I have lost you to the ghost.
I am afraid that you will
not abandon that road.
But I want you to abandon
that road and we will lock ourselves up in Valparaiso or run away to
the Black Sea and you can write poems and stories that no one will
ever read and seduce me with your lies and leave me a broken mess –
wreck my mind and crush my soul and drive my passion into madness...
give me the love you would have given Veronica – I am afraid that
if you really gave me the chance, I would crush all that is left you
you my sweet monster, because yes, I have always been crazy but you
did not ever help the situation - I would crush what is left of you
and cut out your heart and build a new alter to the Godess of Blah
Blah Blah and all those mad poets and wandering souls that the world
abondoned, those dreamers and the fools for love that could not hold
back the pain and the fury of their desire that only had the options
of love or death – can find a place to rest under that alter that I
will cover with the words you hid from this bitch of a world - what
better way to go out my love.
I am afraid that I may
never know the ghost of love the way you chase her.
I am afraid that maybe I
too will ende up marying a man I do not love.
But maybe this is not
love at all
You do not have to love
me and I do not have to love you - isn't that what you said once to
another woman? You don't have to love me to sit in silence with me
and breath in the same moment with me.
This is true.
All of it and maybe I did
not say it all the right way.
But there.
And I am afraid that one
day I will lose this feeling and I will not come running back to you
when you call me.
And I am afraid now that
this letter is over that the moment I was running to and that you
were running from has passed.
Because now
I can't do it anymore.
Forever,
D.
And then she wrote me another one telling me off like no woman has ever told me off before - it was absolute gold... and on that note...
he found a girl and they danced out of sight...
Posts
