The Mad Blogger

Life is a glasshouse and just as fragile. Life is like walking on cracked ice with nothing but a cold sick abyss waiting to swallow us up. Life is the cruelest joke of all, lending obstacles in our path for every step forward we think we've made. Every step gained can easily have caused the next crack, leading to a full collapse of the glasshouse you thought was your life.

Hope is truly easy to discard. Hope is an enormous weight. Hope requires action and prevention from the wrong words and wrong actions. Hope offers no guidance though, so walk the ice lightly.

But sunshine breaks through the dead-fall that my life sometimes threatens to become. Regardless of the cracks in the glass of my life, I choose life!

At one time I saw myself as a prophet of despair. And now, by no means am I the happy inspirational speaker offering shiny happy peace on earth, but I will tread on through muck and mud, and I will move mountains till I find the sea.

I would rather wrestle with the possibility of God for eternity that let blackness reign king. I'm not a child of God, but I am an advocate to make God make himself known. I kick blind-faith in the face.

If God won't show face, then I will search and find it where it lives and breathes. I know God is in my little boy, though he got whacked with a genetic disorder. I know God is in my heart, though it has been blackened a thousand times, I know God is out there but hides around every corner, behind every mountain, offering sunshine and a winter to match.

So what of my struggle with the world, my written word, and God. Why write this terrible prose?


Because I renounce fear to feel what is in me.
I renounce anger for love.
I renounce hatred for tolerance.
I renounce saying things and not doing them.
I renounce thinking this world is a piece of space-debris made for nothing.
I renounce being nothing.
I renounce the couch in favor of the journey.
I renounce silence! I am an angry man and I carry a metal headed meat tenderizer under my car seat, if you think I'm kidding look.
I got road rage for life in my blood and it boils through my fist through the wall.
But for the life and death of me I got a God coming anger's way to crush it's head.
What I have in me now is life, and the death that clouds me is fading fast.
I see light and I take it from the sky.
  

I received the most touching email from a grown man about my Tyler Clemente post. He opened up more than I expected to read. I write for him. I write for my children, that they take their pain and conquer it with a passion for life and breathing ahhhh breathing slowly enjoying their breathing gift.

When Aidan's mother died my life was a glass house, and it fell on his head. The anger of that possibility follows me like a dark shadow, so I write for him that I cast that cloud from my world, and far far away from his.


This is Noah. He's Aidan and Owen's first cousin. His mother, Jessica, was their mother's sister. She died six months after Amy of breast cancer too. I write for Noah.

I love his gigantic smile. I  love how he calls me uncle Matt with a big hug. I love that he is in my life.

This next little guy is Gavin, Noah's little brother. He was four months old when his mom died. What the fuck! I write for him.

So may this glass house be made of glass no more?
May my world have pillars of stone. I write for that hope.

I want to give this life my whole heart that it may blanket these children with all goodness.

Their tears will always be my tears, I write that I may figure out how to give more generously, to be more loving, to be more selfless, and true, I smash my black heart to pieces for a nice red one pumping the thickest reddest blood imaginable.

GOD! if you truly run shit...keep the sun on my family, and shine it on beautiful Holly's face forever!

You are another one, God, that needs my tank pointed at you at all times.

You fool no one anymore God!

I call you out with a broken bottle in my hand. Wanna fight, cause I got plenty in me.    

I want the world to take responsibility for it's actions. I want to take responsibility for my actions. I want rain to smash my face so I can WAKE UP! I write for a world in tears tonight headed down a shit-storm...The world is nice place...I just want to enjoy it while I'm here. If that's all you, readers, want too, then I'm with you.

I'm thinking I should change my description to chronicle of a mad blogger!

Till the next blog: Good night!