Sunday, September 6, 2015


"Life dances wickedly
over the special hour 
I've chosen for slumber."

Jon V.
from Dreams of Escape

I was deeply upset to hear of the recent suicide of our fellow blogger, known as Jay in VA. His final post is moving and disturbing. 
His blog was called  Welcome to Jay in VA - - I'm sorry I don't have a link.

Since I didn't know him personally, and since I don't have full knowledge of the details, I feel that I have no right to divulge his real name or any tangible information.

I will say, however, that I read the local news coverage proceeding his death and have absorbed the gist of the story. It is a despicable and all-too common occurrence in America
these wild media witch hunts, in which self-righteous, hypocritical bastards (media and law enforcement) are intent on stalking and destroying others. Privacy is invaded, reputations are shredded, and the victims -  with little other recourse - choose death rather than eternal damnation from their persecutors. Guilt before proven innocence.

Enough said about this intensely tragic  incident. 
Pax Vobescum.

 *  *  *  *

I've always believed that most people who commit suicide, if given a second chance, wouldn't do it again. Yet there are times when a grim situation leaves no alternative. The well-meaning optimists always say that things aren't so bad, things will get better. That isn't always true.

There was a long-ago time in my life when a self-inflicted death at an early age seemed like an intriguing notion. In the infuriating naievity of youth, I thought it would be glorious to die at age twenty-five. While I was still young enough to make a goodlooking corpse. I even went so morbidly far as to plan my own funereal. I wrote down details: corpse dressed in white, white candles, white roses.....a recording of Billie Holiday singing "Gloomy Sunday".....

Now, in the sobriety of more mature years, I desire cremation - - as did my parents. No service, no eulogy, no ashes I return.

During the dramatically turbulent duration of my life, I have admittedly pondered the idea of suicide on many occasions. When I finally realized that 95% of my problems were caused by other people, I decided that it would be more productive to kill the sons-of-bitches who had made me miserable, rather than to kill myself. 
It's a delightfully selfish and satisfying fantasy.

Long ago, in my destructive youth, I made a few half-hearted suicide attempts. After a particularly fierce blowup with my father (one of very many) I locked myself in the bathroom and hacked at my wrists with a pair of scissors until they bled profusely.

My objective wasn't death. I simply wanted escape - - escape from the sheer agony of my situation. There are times when the detrimental insanity surrounding us is so overwhelming, that we seek an instant resolution to suppress the silent scream - -no matter what the price.

I remember when a potent bout of drunkenness and intense despair inspired me to climb an overpass above the Hollywood Freeway. It was late at night, way after midnight. I stood, poised, ready to leap.... then clumsily lost my balance...fell backwards onto the pavement.

Saved by the imbalance of Fate.

I pacified myself by saying that if I had jumped - with my foul luck - I would have probably landed on a northbound truck and wound up in Oakland.

 Here's the infamous overpass.
I don't know if it still exists.

Much more disturbing were the times my mother was on the brink of absolute desperation from the relentless agony of my father's abuse.

Mom was never suicidal, never truly wanted to die. She was normally very level-headed and long-suffering, but - much like myself - she could only endure so much. 

In a moment of absolute despair, she swallowed the entire contents of a bottle of aspirin (and I don't know what else).....and refused medical help. Those insane times of my young existence are often merely a blur. I stayed by her side for days, tending to her, until critical danger had passed. Her ears rang violently for a long time. I believe this ugly incident had a negative effect on her health in later years.

Why would I reveal these private things in a public blog?

Because mental anguish - no matter what kind - is devastating and can  induce abnormal behavior in otherwise normal people. We all have a breaking point.......and the fragility of others should not be judged harshly.



  1. Music Center Cathedral Of Our Lady Of The Angels Next Exit sign...
    I don't know if it was there when you were
    probably doesn't make a difference
    not reading anything into it
    just noticed it
    I'm glad you survived
    I probably shouldn't say all
    but most (?)
    a lot (?)
    of people have thought about
    ending their lives
    at least once
    I have

    1. I don't recall any sign for "Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels".- - it wasn't there when I lived in L.A.

      When I lived there, the sign said "Vote for Lincoln" (a minor attempt at humor)

    2. I had completely forgotten that the old Cathedral of St. Vibiana was severely damaged during the earthquake of 1994.

      The new cathedral of "Our Lady of the Angels" was opened in 2002, long after I had moved from California.

  2. One blogger described suicide as a permanent solution to a temporary situation. We all have options and make choices in life, additional options are surprisingly available. As a society we need to help people understand that there are other ways out of life's troubles.

    1. I truly do think that - if given a second chance - most people wouldn't have committed suicide.

  3. Honestly, when I first read this I was at a loss what to say. (Then again, saying nothing is pretty cowardly.)
    I sense this piece was difficult to author; but one of the things I admire most is your unflinching honesty.

    Yes, I suppose every one of us has his/her breaking point. I only wish someone had been with a helping hand to put your friend's pieces back together again.
    For the record, I, too, am glad you survived!

    1. I was hesitant to post this and I still have mixed feelings. It's an unpleasant subject. Often I'm too honest and it's not always easy for others to absorb.

      I sometimes wonder if survival is worth while.....

  4. I contemplated suicide in high school (school and home life were equally bad). but I am still here.

    mental health treatment is almost non-existent in this country; why is that?

    1. I think that's part of the reason why we have so many criminals.

      When I was young there NO resources for women in abusive situations, like my mother. The police were always on the man's side. Women seemingly had no rights at all.

      You are a survivor in many ways and I greatly admire that.

  5. I absolutely agree. Too often we hide what troubles us and that ultimately helps no one. I've had my own thoughts, fought my own battles, and tend to hold to the thought that it HAS to get better.. and it always does seem better the next day, even if circumstances do not change. I am sorry about Jay. It sounds like he really did not see another way out of his situation. Social media is the devil in disguise.

  6. Rash decisions are always the very worst kind. No matter what the circumstances, it's best to take a while to sort things out and explore possible solutions.

  7. When I was a kid and learned that suicide was considered to be a crime I was appalled. I still am appalled that anyone could think negatively about a person who kills themself, with the one exception of those who take others with them. Suicide is often a sign of tremendous anger at oneself of course. I also feel incredibly sad for those left behind. Some of them never get over it.

  8. It is unfortunate that suicide is considered a crime, when - in fact - it is a desperate cry for help - - unfortunately too late.


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