Thursday, November 23, 2017

SCORPIO SEASON: A Private Letter Made Public.

[777 Words. Sent sometime earlier this month, either last week or this one. Most probably the Sunday of our last missed date.]

SCORPIO SEASON:

It was hard on both of us. We are just extremely sensitive people with a lot of trauma. It was wise of you, I hope, to have decided to spend this time apart, so as not to tear one an OTHER apart. My only reservation is rooted in fear, fear that I was too swift to come to your aid. That you needed some one, but I had all ready been pushed away. That you found someone else to help you. That you found someone else. I can’t do that tragic situation again. But thankfully my Heart tells me I will not have to. And I trust you. You would not have shut me out if you had been unable to handle it. You would not have been vainglorious as to think that you could handle such a challenge on your own, if you couldn’t. You know yourself. More than you think that you do. Or than you let on.

There was a lot of karmic baggage to unload. I feel cleansed. Sagittarius is coming on. I just finished an other story arc of Breaking Bad with my Mom. I am in suspense for watching the beginning of the next. I tried to make sure she would be as well.
You are what I am looking forward to in THIS Life. Not unlike the end of a story arc, the upcoming Cusp of Revolution brings us to the beginning of my Favourite Four: Sagittarius through Pisces. And we start with YOUR element! Hazah!!
I want to celebrate this New Season in Life with You. Pardon my Element and All Its Pain. You’ve weathered worse Novembers than this one, I am sure. We both have. We know our coping mechanisms: Family and friends. Pensive introspection for me. And an all-you-can-eat Buffet of Activity for the Lady. Hearts.

I really believe that we will pull through this, Nicole. You know my Heart now, inside and out. I need not vent much more to you. The time for Enjoyment has come. Take me or leave me. Scorpio teaches us: All or Nothing. I am done being a Pushover.
I believe that you owe me a chance.
But I’ve not heard YOUR side of the Story yet!!

Know that I will always support you. My word is my bond. A promise is a promise.

Just don’t leave me in suspense.

And since we’re shedding our Scorpions’ Shells, I’ll just shoot this right at you like Cupid’s Flaming Arrow:

If you start to see someone else, I will begin saving up for an Engagement Ring.
I love you, Nicole. And I want to get married before I turn thirty.
Maybe that’s just Jupiter making false promises. It IS Thursday, Day of Jupiter, right before the First Cusp of Sagittarius, after all.
But perhaps it’s something more profound.
Perhaps it’s all so Pluto reminding me that, in my Heart of Hearts, I know just who I am and What It Is That I Want.

I suppose that all of this is fairly disquieting (or all TOO quieting?) to a typical Intuitive Extravert afraid of Commitment.
But I don’t doubt you’ve wanted this. If not with me, then with someone else. Yet I am all you have now. If I may sound a little vain myself. Or if I may puncture your vanity. Or if I may simply be so bold. I really want to believe that I Matter to You. I hold a Special Place in Your Heart and play a Pivotal Role in Your Life.
We both have Cancer in Midheaven. Or was it Midheaven in Cancer?
We just might be each other’s Cure for Cancer.

A fair chance is all that I am asking for. I’ve earned that. And you taught me to Value Myself. Thank you. I don’t believe my Gratitude for you will ever die.

And neither shall my Love for You.

I can let you Lead the Way. You would want to. You can help me onto my feet. Just give me a direction and I will go. So long as it is WITH you. You give me Direction. You give me Hope, as well as immediate and total Satisfaction with the Present. I would be a fool to give you up. What more can one ask for? It is the best of BOTH Worlds: Childhood and Adulthood. Capricorn and Cancer. Our Troubled Pasts and Redeemed Future.

And I know that I will be able to reciprocate. Yes: I say “will” instead of “would”. That’s the Archer talking. And you, the Champion of my Heart.

Forgive me. Please.

I love you, Nicole.

It gets Better.


Dm.A.A.

THE RAPIST.

THE RAPIST: An end to Apologetics.

MEPHISTOPHELES: You see, I raped her. You see those legs spread wide, like Devil’s horns? I was inside of them. Five times. I fucked the woman that you loved. I did it practically in front of you. And I did not relent. She was high. She was an addict. I aggravated her addiction. I destroyed her sexual drive, via cocaine. It was that same drug that afforded me that pleasure, at her expense. I drove a wedge between the two of you. I feigned guilt that I SHOULD have felt so as to make her think she suffered on YOUR behalf. As though I was doing you a favour by neglecting her. Missing her nineteenth birthday. She blamed you. It was much easier than to admit that she was wrong. I played on both of your emotions. My ex had gotten married. That marriage is finished now. I played the Hanged Man; I pretended to feel sorry for myself. As though I’d been the victim of my ex-girlfriend’s betrayal. It was I who had betrayed her. It was I who had betrayed YOUR ex’s sister, so that she, cynical and damaged, would turn against all men, turning your ex against YOU, so her Mother would then turn your OWN Mother against you, for eight years of suffering that I did nothing to assuage. I then used your relationship with your ex to justify my treachery to you. Your Beloved believed it. She ate up every lie I fed her. I never loved her. I just made her fall in love with me. I made her hate you. Every victim I have turned into a Victory. I claim Spite as a Throne. By the time it would have been clear to her you loved her and that her interests were yours, my “guilt” had run its course. I forgave myself, and by extension made her feel that she could forgive HERSELF. She was wrong, of course. She never could forgive herself for what she and I did to you. So she continued to suffer under that guilt, as I laughed at her weakness and your impotence in saving her. That guilt, having run its course in me, turned to anger. For your OWN anger, no longer justified, would justify my own, in self-defense. I claimed Spite as a Throne. I turned my victims into victories. And now: now she is dead. Abandoning you, out of guilt and rage, for she thought it was you that made her feel this way, she turned to me. But it was *I* that made her feel this way. You only brought this Truth to Light. Because you promised to be honest with her. I CONCEALED the Truth from her, so she would never trace it back to me. Until it was too late. Until I found an other whore to use: one much less willful. And by settling for the weaker of the two I destroyed the stronger of them. She died because of me. She died because she could not bear to turn to the man who truly loved her. It does not matter WHEN it was that I hooked up with my new broad. You can tell I do not regret the loss of yours. And she surely foresaw it. All too late, at any rate. Perhaps too early? And I laugh. At her and at you. Because she was your One Chance at True Love. And she was so desperate. She would have gone for you. You would have taken one an others’ Virginity. But I took hers first. I do that. So you could never understand one an other’s Innocence again. So you would die alone in your Ivory Tower of Innocence, while she burned in the Flames of Privileged Hell. All because you trusted me. All because I made it seem like I was such a Troubled Victim. And because I led you to believe you owed me this. But I never confessed I owed you any thing. Not even loyalty. Not even trustworthiness. Not even Justice. Not even Love. Not even her Life, when you, having shed all your pride, made yourself vulnerable again to me. And I have turned ALL of your former friends against you. And you alone know this. But why do you smile? I know: Because I am going to Hell. And you: you have God on your side. And I am laughing nervously at my own Fate.


Dm.A.A.

The END of CONFORMISM:

You can’t tell me to Think of Others when you marginalize ME. I AM the OTHER. MY experience is IMPORTANT, not THEIRS. THEY have to KNOW what I WENT THROUGH. OTHERS have to KNOW, so that no one else WILL go through that. Only then can there be Justice. Only then will I rest well at Night. I never will surrender what I know to the collective ignorance of some group. They are not people who think in a group; they are only people when they become Individuals. My Experience has Value, because *I* say that it does. No civil society can obligate the Individual to surrender his Autonomy to the Mass. That sort of martyrdom is not the burden of every individual who has been disadvantaged by a System. It is rather the burden of every Individual who has NOT been similarly disadvantaged: to Bring the System down, for even one human casualty is enough to destroy and then to recreate. It’s all ways been this way, and it SHOULD be this way, forever. That is the principle of Birth and Death. That is the INTEGRITY of the INDIVIDUAL LIFE, which is the only ACTUAL LIFE any one lives: Self and God, without any thing or any one standing in between. The parasite has no Self. It is only the Group. It has no God. It has only the Ego of the Conformist, devouring all those who do not conform and assimilate. I refuse to assimilate. And that is why I have no Agenda outside of my own Life. As it happens to be: Other People are PART of this Life. So what affects them affects me. But only because I see them in their totally UNIQUE, HUMAN pain. Not because I see them as mere extensions of myself and my own whims. Any one who demands Altruism and Consideration for Others whilst alienating Others from the Majority is a Narcissist. There is no such thing as a Righteous Majority Rule. People VOTE out of Self-Interest; the few who vote from Reason tend to be outvoted all the time. The System does not work, but narcissists pretend it can, because according to the Laws of Probability each agent of action will only be outvoted a MINORITY of the time. Yet we are not governed in truly MORAL decisions by Probability, but rather by Ethic and by POSSIBILITY. The narcissist, outvoted, flees the moment that he loses, for he only voted, to begin with, to preserve an ego. I dare not call it HIS ego, for possession itself is an egocentric delusion. The only vote that counts is Unanimous. What does not work for all works for none. God loves all beings. We are all his children. Authority belongs to the Elite Minority. Thankfully, we can become Minorities by the simple act of Becoming Anything outside of the Unintelligent Mass.


Dm.A.A.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

THE DARK SIDE of the CHAMPION:

Anthony is threatening to file a restraining order against me. I made it clear to him that I wanted him to leave me alone: to stop calling my house, repeatedly, harassing me and my family. TO return my personal belongings. To atone for all the pain he has caused me, beginning perhaps with the fact that he would harass me over facebook years ago, one of a number of causes underlying my departure from Social Networking. Of course, I could hold him accountable for leaving me behind long before that, the year that I was having a psychotic breakdown. But I was not his friend then. Kresten was. And Kresten was supposed to be MY friend.
Where did the psychosis emanate from?
Among other things: I was coping with my first break-up by listening to lectures by the dangerous cult leader Bhagwan Rajneesh, otherwise known as “Osho”. Osho’s work still adorns the shelves of book stores. His name is listed under Famous ENFPs. It is not, unlike Ché Guevara, put in the Dangerous category.
Kresten was all so an ENFP.
As was Alanna.
They were all drug users and addicts, of one sort or an other.
I tried to help them all. I understood them.
But each of them betrayed me.
Alanna died.
And Anthony continues to harass me, as though it were HE that had the right to Demand Justice.
I understand now. He honestly believes himself, after all this time, to be in the right.
He harasses me, for a second time in two weeks, and for a third time this year, by phone.
And yet he tells me that it is HE that deserves Justice. That it is HE that is going to file a restraining order.
Por que?
It was MY face that he published to YouTube, without my permission. So I had to tear his ego apart. I even went out of my way, probably upon seeing that he’d re-uploaded it, to ferret out his independent ventures, just to point out how pathetic he is without me. With the hope for once that he would see me as an Authority, and not as a resource.
He insists that I have “done” something by virtue of the e-mails that I sent to him. But he never DID any thing to preserve Justice. He has only ever empowered the people who allowed for the rape, addiction, and death of my Twin Flame, Alanna Leigh McLeod.
He has all ways seen Justice as something convenient to himself.
He has done nothing to preserve my view of it.
And I knew the Victims.
I WAS one of the Victims.
And I allowed him to continue to use me.
Even though he mistreated them.
Even though he mistreated me.
And even though he did NOTHING to stop the people who DID all the Actual Harm. Rather than the Actual Good.

I was their martyr.

But not any more, Hawk.
I will not enable them any more.
I owe them nothing.
The money that they spent on me I never saw a profit from.
They might as well have been gambling.
And I can see just how much of a Joke and an Amusement they took me to be now.
Playing me like some slot machine.
Pushing my buttons. Pulling the lever.
Counting my cards.

I am Done.

The Champion has done more harm for me than any other Personality Type.
He thinks he can harass me and in the same breath accuse me of stalking.
He thinks he can escape responsibility for the harassment that he himself initiated, forgetting this conveniently as he continues to drug himself with his cult of Hedonists. Pretending that I owe him this, as though my “ego” were my initial Offense Against Humanity. Bullying me. Killing all that I love. And retaliating when I try to destroy what HE does not even CARE about.
And all the while insisting that he does not “really hang out with them”. At least: not unless God tells him to do a good deed for them. Playing Poker in Temecula the night that we are supposed to film. Delegating Directorial Responsibilities to the Lonely Virgin Artists as he goes out on a date. Evading accountability when I ask him for what the appointment was. Pretending towards blamelessness when he admit the date was cancelled, through “apparently” no fault of his own.

I have lost personal belongings, friends (who are no longer Among the Living), and all most my Civil Rights, to these People. My record will forever be tarnished by their hypocritical will to power, and my futile attempts to counteract their blackmailing and mortal negligence.

But I cannot let YOU go, Hawk.

Not yet.

Now right now.

Just show me that you are not like the Others.


Dm.A.A.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Let's Finish This: The Alpha Myth.


*And for all the Alphas in the Audience: The "Link" is that block of underlined, coloured text that you just, by some miracle, successfully read. You may read this Italic Text too. Italic means slanted.

1.     The only people who are fit to have power are those who do not want it. Seeking power without approval from other men is a violation of the Categorical Imperative, which is the most Universal of Human Values, transcending all distinctions of class, culture, race, ethnicity, and (with some cultish exceptions that brainwash its victims) creed. True Leadership is not sought after for personal gain but rather acquired in an emergency. Often, disloyalty within a group of Equals, as the result of some want-to-be Leader Taking Charge, creates the drama that a morally upright person must act in in order to TRULY protect other potential victims. This is manhood. One does not rush into conflict in a spirit of competition. One waits patiently for a sound opportunity to arise, because only by so doing can pain be prevented for the civilized woman. If an other violates this code, then that other is at fault. Confidence comes with Knowledge and Wisdom, not with Arrogance and Debilitating Parasitism. That is called Fascism, rather than Love. And no one wants that. Besides: most women who are attracted to that are only trying to seek Power for themselves. They do not WANT to be protected, but they are being manipulated subconsciously (as you confess, in your hidden, robotic voice) into the protection of someone who is using them. When this is brought to their attention by their TRUE protectors, who have now to contend with this dangerous narcissist, and who have Rational Cause to suspect the woman to be in danger, they lash out. Nothing can justify this tragedy. We must work against delusional scumbags in other ways. ESPECIALLY if they are off deflowering virgins that would rightfully have been ours, for we have neither the troubled track record nor that same history of “Success”. I am a virgin, and I am proud of this. I lost a woman I loved to suicide earlier this year because of these tendencies. She deserves Justice. People have to know. “Passive aggression” is simply righteous indignation with one’s civility and tact in tact. If you love someone, you deserve to be with that person. No loving man can reconcile aggression with passion. No Rational Man can put an other through that which he himself would not want to be put through. Besides: no one is DOOMED to be a “second choice”, clinically. If she cannot see you for who you are, even after having known you long enough to form a trusting (and morally sound) bond, then that’s on her. But help her to see that, because if she falls for this then she NEEDS protection. Whether she knows it or not. Where do you think that Ethics come from? EVERY one employs them, even the Alphas. They are simply hypocritical in doing so. And hypocrites will accuse you of hypocrisy. It’s what hypocrites do.
2.     Knowing what you want is impossible without knowing what OTHERS want. Man is a social animal who asserts only that which would serve the Common Good. Otherwise, you are just living the life of an infant, unaware of the world outside of yourself, dependent upon others for all good things that happen to you and unaware that this is so. Did I mention relying totally on self-serving instinct, devoid of Reason, Wisdom, Patience, or Reasonable Doubt? Yeah. I guess that I did. Women who are secure do not need a fake who clearly has trouble trusting others but can never bring himself to admit his weaknesses. You know what weaknesses are? They are the very REASON you RELATE to BEGIN with. They are the very GROUND for even ENTERING a Relationship: to GROW. Without honesty about our shortcomings we have nothing. Without pity there can be little hope of sympathy and true relationship. NOTHING is more attractive than a fellow human being in NEED. Nothing else could be justified; we all depend on someone else.
3.     PESSIMISM IS NOT A TURN-OFF. Often times we are fooled by appearances and only once we have dashed our own hopes in false promises can we actually proceed with an Inspired Confidence. What woman has not learned this, one way or an other? The happy ones who reach a wise age say: Be a gentleman. That does not mean making promises you cannot keep or claims without warrant. That is weak and pathetic. Be realistic, even if a bad situation renders realism as pessimism. And no: pessimism does not equate to a lack of confidence. I can be confident in myself, but to that same degree I have doubts about others. I am not in Control of the World. I cannot change them. So I brood. I once knew a girl about whom I was going to ask, on our second outing, if our relationship was a Platonic One. I chose to wait until our seventh one, because the conversation seemed to be going so well (that it would have been selfish and disruptive to ask, obviously). It turned out that she was manipulating me the entire time; she never hit me up again after I confessed my feelings, even going so far as to demand that I stop checking in on her about our previous appointments. Five months went to waste in hope. But I recover because my past experiences have made me TRULY Strong and Emotionally Mature. She told me that my melancholy was not a problem. If she lied, it’s still on her. And you know it. I was not pessimistic about HER. But now I know better. I owed her the benefit of the doubt earlier. Grand Plans are symptomatic of an excessive Will to Power, and Jung demonstrates that this is the shadow of the Loving Instinct, mutually exclusive with it. And we cannot all “be the Leader”. The best leaders go unnoticed. We all have the same core needs, and being in power affords you no special privilege in a Civil Society.
4.     The entire purpose of Reason is to MINIMIZE risk and to reduce Conflict. INITIATING conflict is immoral; it violates the Categorical Imperative. RESPONDING to Conflict is natural, but how often, honestly, do people who create a mess reward the man who cleans it up? Never; they are incapable of living Reasonably. The Early Days of Mankind are GONE. We have a neo-Palium now, and it is no lack of confidence to admit that one’s own is developed and integrated healthy into the larger Brain. We have to discuss any backwards refuse from our Tribal Heritage with our partners in a manner that is safe and sound, devoid of judgment, both conscious and unconscious. It’s how we grow, not only as Individuals, not exclusively as a Couple, but as a SPECIES. Parasitism and Dominance are the Old Paradigm. Justice and Friendship are the Future.
My Father was an Alpha. He beat me whenever I contradicted him. When I had a psychotic breakdown after my first ex (who still attempts to impress me, apparently) broke up with me, I was marginalized as the Maniac in the House. But I was never the danger. It was my Father who tended to be most violent, and I simply got the blame. Many years later, I have taught him not to rule by terror, but to live by Love. It took him fifty years. But he finally matured. And I have done my part to hold the Family Together this entire time. He might even begin to see this: that Other Families matter too, and we must all learn from them in order to create the most loving environment for our progeny. If we cannot do that, we do not deserve to procreate. We become the LAST reasonable choice, not the first. Even dogs are loyal, and they learn from others.
5.     This is just a sick joke. Without “followers”, there can BE no Leaders! The Leader has to provide for all his followers; Leaders Eat Last. SOME one has to do the actual work. When I played in a band with a sociopath, he insisted on being the Leader. I accommodated his insecurity, because that’s the pattern we all ways followed. I did not realize he would betray me for a woman I’d loved for an entire month. But she was delusional and desperate. She confessed it a year later. The irony? It was a TWO-MAN band. And he would not even agree to reform it, with HER as the Leader, even after he had FUCKED HER FIVE TIMES. This is Kafkaesque and Absurd. She would still probably be alive if any one had held that parasite responsible. Here’s the irony to end all ironies: It was I who remembered al our songs, both mine AND his. He was too zonked to even keep track of them all. Some best friend, right? Some “leader”. Now people want to work with him because apparently *I’m* hard to work with. Someone who attends every meeting he makes, remembers all the details, and ADAPTS. On the say-so of a traitor. People are pathetic.
6.     Rape rhetoric. Plain and simple. Did I mention that the aforementioned all so fucked her after giving her cocaine? Yeah. Your ideal is a rapist. So good luck with that. Women want a man who will listen to her wisdom in becoming a Better Person. It makes her feel Important and Respected. Not like a useless toy. All ways put Others first. They, by the very nature of being Others, know better.
7.     L.O.L. Every thing you just said DESTROYS communication and plays on backwards Illusions. True Communication involves:
a.      SUBMISSION to the Other’s Wants and Needs. If I do not want to talk about it, you owe it to me we don’t talk about it. If I do not approve of a certain term you use, you do not use it. You are nothing without your partner; the Other is the Goal, and any self-respecting Self can recognize the symptoms of a narcissist who does not respect that Self as an Other. The closest I myself ever came to suicidal ideation was under verbal abuse. No one wants to feel like a wall for you to direct your aggression and insecurity upon.
b.     FAIRNESS towards all beings involved. What we discuss will affect every one, strong or weak, large or small. Leaders eat last; followers eat first.
c.      SAFETY AND SECURITY. NOT conflict and risk.
d.     REALISM. Especially about situations that look unpromising.
e.     TRANSPARENCY. Especially about one’s own doubts and Human, all too Human fears.
Opinions are cheap. Values are arbitrary without approval by the Community.
Don’t give in to Peer Pressure. Hitler killed no one. His people did.
You are a follower by listening to this.
If you must follow, follow the Righteous Path.
Dm.A.A.

SHORT PLAY: DOM and COCO.

Just tell me one thing, please: During that month I waited for you. How many people asked you out? Did you ever say “yes”?
What’s it matter to you?
Oh, God. I can’t believe it. I cannot FUCKING BELIEVE it.
I said YES. I have that RIGHT.
Within the month… or the following month… after I told you? Sorry: I should be specific. That sounds like “within the month after I told you, or the following month.” I don’t mean all THREE months. I mean [sternly] WITHIN THE MONTH I TOLD YOU, or ONLY THE MONTH AFTER.
Well so WHAT?
I WAITED FOR YOU. All that time. Five months I knew you. I LEFT THE HOUSE only to SEE you! SEVEN times I met with you! HOURS EACH time!
So WHAT?
SO I thought it MEANT something. There is just NO WAY. NO WAY IN… How do you LIVE with yourself? Does he know?
Who?
Or she. About me.
NO.
Both: Of course not.
Because this DOES NOT HAPPEN. He would not LET IT HAPPEN. Some guy I never even HEARD about. Or someone that you told me you were OVER.
You don’t OWN me. You do not CONTROL MY…
YOU fucking CONTROLLED MY LIFE. Why ELSE would you have me sit out in PUBLIC for HOURS with you? You manipulative B—
So WHAT? So I got you out of your PARENTS’ HOUSE…
FOR NOTHING. It was all about YOU. ALL of it. You did not give a FUCK about me. All those people: God. Why do you need so many FUCKING PEOPLE? And what? I am not supposed to KNOW about them? How many people are a part of this, any way? This RUSE that I am not supposed to TALK about for FEAR it MIGHT UPSET YOU?
I don’t KNOW! I don’t keep TRACK…
Oh, yeah. Okay. You don’t keep track. WOW. Okay then.
Dominic…
No. You know what? This is crazy. I could NEVER fucking REBOUND…
Woah.
… and tell it to the girl’s FACE…
I did not REBOUND.
She would KNOW. She’d SEE my DESPERATION. And she’d KNOW it was IMMORAL. That she couldn’t DO that to my EX…
We didn’t even DATE!
I don’t give a DAMN about the LABELS you assign to this. You are only USING THEM in order to CONTROL me. I TECHNICALLY have only ONE ex, from SEVEN YEARS ago. Almost Eight. But fuck it. You’re my ex. Arianna’s my ex. Even the bartender at Plan Z Alehouse is my Ex…
You are psychotic.
I am TWENTY-SIX YEARS OF AGE. I SHOULD have had that many relationships. And you know what? I DID. But manipulative NARCISSISTS like you DENY it. You think he… or she? Would be DATING you right now if he or she KNEW about ME?
YES.
THEN WHY HIDE ME? HUH? Why make all these RULES? “Oh, you’ll be my friend forever.” “Oh, don’t let my friends SEE you.” “Oh, now you’re my friend again, but SOMEHOW I EXPECT YOU STILL TO KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.” What the FUCK? I only tried to GET you to keep your APPOINTMENTS. Now you’re FUCKING someone ELSE?
We did not FUCK.
Yeah, right. You know: you stood me up seven times in one months’ time. Like I can trust a single goddamn word out of your mouth. You know: sooner or later, this cunt, and I mean that in a gender-neutral way… he’ll find out. About me. And every one. And this sick game you play. And then… then that will be just one more person who KNOWS.
Fuck you.
Indeed.


Dm.A.A.

Monday, November 20, 2017

SPOILER WARNING: FLAKED, the First Half. (Analysis.)

Chip killed a man. He is an alcoholic. Ten years ago, he ran over a kid whilst intoxicated. Now he is the leader of the local Alcoholics Anonymous in Venice, California. He lives at the home of his best friend, Dennis. The home belongs to Dennis’ mother. It consists of two houses. Dennis allows Chip to stay in the Main House whilst Dennis lodges in the somewhat smaller and less romantic Guest House.
The debt of gratitude that Dennis feels towards Chip is understandable at first. Dennis at some point moved to Europe to escape the manipulative tendencies of his nymphomaniac mother. Ostensibly, he developed a drinking problem abroad, and upon return Chip met Dennis and helped Dennis to get clean.
Dennis at some point developed a crush on a woman named Cara. They met at the Support Group. Chip did not hesitate, however, to dash Dennis’ hopes of seeing this woman romantically. Chip began to have sex with Cara on a regular basis. They never formalized their relationship, partly because of Chip’s repetitive behavior of missing appointments made on her behalf, leaving her in a state of abandonment and humiliation. As a sensitive artist, Cara has a specific set of emotional needs that even the revered leader of the Local Support Group cannot seem to meet at his convenience.
Why did Dennis not initiate romantic contact earlier? Simply put: it was Against the Rules. You see: Cara was still in her first year of recovery when she met Dennis, so for her to start to see any one romantically, from within the Group, would be inadvisable, for fear of relapse. But there is a loophole, of course: she can sleep with the Group Leader, so long as they are not formally dating.
This relationship started entirely within her first year. Upon her first “Birthday” (a term that Anonymous Alcoholics use for the first year of sobriety in recovery from an addiction), Chip promised to atone for missing her band’s practice by baking her a cake. The local police chief, a close friend of Chip who often gives him rides to the A.A. meetings (because Chip is no longer licensed to drive, obviously) supplied the cake necessary to make the deal happen, knowing, surely, that Chip would be helpless otherwise. But upon the night of the Meeting, Chip is absent. He is sleeping with his ex-wife, who has just informed him that she is about to remarry. Of course: she is only his ex-wife de facto. De jure, Chip has either been unable to produce the necessary funds to file the Divorce, or he has found some excuse or alternative use for the money. But of course: we pity Chip. His wife is clearly some sort of millionaire, and he has only the Furniture Store that is formally owned by her crazy hippie entrepreneur of a Father.
This same furniture store, where Chip scrapes by a living by selling handmade three-legged stools, is all so home to a Studio Apartment upstairs. As the Season unfolds, events center on a new tenant that Chip invites to rent the room: a tall, slender blonde named London that is, as of her recent arrival in Venice, from San Diego, the most desirable woman in town. Of course, the complication is that Dennis, who is all so Chip’s coworker at the store, is madly in love with London, and has been for some time, to Chip’s knowledge (Dennis, of course, after what happened with Cara, has developed a sort of makeshift Bro Code that both of them are to follow with academic stringency bordering on neurosis.). But London has no visible romantic interest in Dennis. Her eyes are solely on Chip, as tends to be the case for women in Venice.
At this point the plot is as solid as the building itself. But it all falls apart at the very foundation, as any architect, psychotherapist or empath has all ready predicted.
London agrees to a date with Dennis, which Dennis proposes with Chip’s prodding encouragement. Yet Chip is skeptical of her agreement to this. The date is supposedly informal and Platonic, though Dennis has a clever and morally sound plan to transition from the not-date to the date. To this plan, Chip replies: “You have a lot of girl friends who never became girlfriends.” This is ironic, of course, considering that the woman that Chip is sleeping with is not his girlfriend, either, but chiefly not because of HER fear of commitment, but his. Cara breaks up with Chip, rightfully so, but this only complicates things between the Band of Brothers that is Chip and Dennis. On Dennis’ second outing with London, she only asks any substantial questions about Chip. Then Dennis decides to probe more deeply into her own backstory. London tells him that her brother died. This news is followed by an awkward silence between Dennis and London that sets off the alarm for Dennis that there is no actual chemistry between the two of them.
Although Dennis is initially depicted as pathetic and self-entitled, the following episodes establish him as sympathetic and even, eventually, heroic. A sudden visit to his Mother’s House, on the Mother’s Request (and under false auspices) produces, by a series of twists and turns, with Chip doing most of the twisting and turning, a road trip with London and Chip, and Dennis, at the wheel, acting as the Third Wheel. This is only worsened when a fourth wheel is added to the group: Dennis’ Mother joins the group of three, despite her reservations about BEING “the fourth wheel”, which implies by her own transparent admission that her own son is the third. And this is the LEAST transparent of her attempts to flatter Chip for his success where London is concerned, right in front of Dennis’ embarrassed and emasculated face. It is in this same episode that we learn that his Mother used to be very sexually promiscuous and would use Dennis to break up with her boyfriends on her behalf. Dennis was ten years old at the time this went on.
You might think, reader, that Chip has criminally good luck that he is somehow, by some black magick, stealing from his best friend. But things are not all well at home. Jerry, the aforementioned hippie entrepreneur, is selling the building that houses both the Furniture Store and London. Of course, we know this from the very first episode, because Dennis keeps bringing it up to Chip, but it is not until further into the series that Chip actually confronts the matter and the man, considering that it was only as the result of a favour to CHIP that Chip and Dennis are able to scrape by a living, now with the added benefit of Chip’s paramour (who is all so the apple of Dennis’ eye) living just upstairs.
Eventually, Chip finds an opportunity to save the store by employing the patronage of an upstart named Topher, a kid from the Support Group. But when Chip finds out that he has nearly prostituted London out to a young ambitious rascal, he backs out of the deal. Meanwhile, the building becomes headquarters for SaVenice (read: Save Venice, not “Save Nice”, as Dennis put it) when Chip allows a stoner named Cooler to host meetings there for the hopeless Liberal Campaign (Perhaps I should capitalize “Hopeless” as well). It’s not hard to understand, after some point, considering that Jerry has sold the building to Chip’s ex-wife’s new lover: Alicia Wiener. Yet the audience of the show knows the TRUE underlying reason: when Dennis finds out that Chip kissed London out in public, a fight ensues, and Chip is forced to crash, uninvited and unexpected, at Cooler’s pad. The result of this is that Cooler loses a date, which is so rare an event for Cooler that Chip barely pays heed to the loss. He saves face with Cooler, however, and manages to stay at Cooler’s pad for the remainder of the rivalry with Dennis, by agreeing to house SaVenice, an unusually kind act on Chip’s part considering that he stood up Cara in episode one, and the event Cara had invited Chip to in that instance was none other than Cooler’s lackluster open mic routine. But clearly their friendship has gone a long way.
Dennis is of course still angry with Chip, but a surprise visit by the aforementioned Buddy Cop knocks some sense into the feud. Although initially joking about running a license plate search on Chip’s stalker, the Police Chief discovers that London is actually Claire, the sister of the young man that Chip killed whilst driving drunk. Chip has at this point acquired a cellular phone, free from Topher, and there is only one person in possession of his number: Dennis. But when he pulls away from a horny London to take the call, it is not Dennis calling but the Chief of Police. Chip realizes at this moment that “London” came all this way just to stalk him, probably hoping to exact vengeance. So he dresses and leaves in a tempered but nonetheless cutting and self-righteous rage. He returns home to Dennis, who, as per usual, did the Right Thing, having been manipulated into acting as a middle man. Oh, well. He is used to it. It’s how he was raised.

This is where I begin to cut:

The Chief of Police is one of the most narcissistic characters in the show, not for a lack of trying to be decent, but for an excess of success. He so oversteps his own professional boundaries to bail Chip and friends out of trouble that he holds others who are relatively innocent to the same standards. Abusing his power in a way subtler than most cops in Los Angeles (partly owing to his African lineage) he demonstrates the dark side of the personality type known as the Champion (MBTI: ENFP). When he shows up at Dennis’ home, Dennis has not done any thing either legally nor morally wrong. Yet the Officer of the Law uses the leverage of the law in order to get in Dennis’ ear. When Dennis insists that he is not Chip’s keeper, the Chief pretends to leave, then turns about and reminds Dennis of all the times that Chip helped Dennis. At this point, I hear an echo of Cara from earlier in the episode, insisting that Dennis stop making excuses for Chip. But then with chilling suddenness, like a confrontation with a Wild Dog, (sue me, Black Lives Matter!) it dawns upon me that the Chief of Police is trying to hold Dennis in DEBT to Chip. And for what? Nothing more than I have stated previously: that Chip involved Dennis, at a time when Dennis was most vulnerable, in Chip’s little Therapy Cult.
Dennis tries with futility to back out one last time when the Chief pulls out the Big Gun (figuratively, of course, at least until the Next Episode, when he barges in on Chip and Dennis at Breakfast in a practical joke that is such an uproariously funny parody of himself from the Climax of the Previous Episode that he is redeemed within the Heart as more of a Joke than a Threat). When the Chief tells Dennis that London is the sister of Chip’s Victim, Dennis does not hesitate to help, except to gather his wits from the shock of hearing the news. Yet at this point, as our disbelief is suspended most highly, (again: sue me if you think that was an ethnic slur.) we still do not know for CERTAIN of this factor: does London or does she NOT know who Chip is? I do not mean this sentimentally; I mean: does LONDON know that Chip is the man who killed her brother? The answer becomes clear by the end of the episode, of course, starting with Chip’s first words after the fateful phone call: “When were you gonna tell me?” But before that we are in suspense; will Dennis tell Chip? Or will he tell LONDON? And if London all ready knows, we still wonder: whose side will Dennis take?

Of course, let’s not idealize Dennis TOO much. He is sort of an idiot, trauma notwithstanding. Both Chip and Dennis only think that London is some sort of psychotic bitch AFTER they find out that she has an Agenda (or at least Justifiable Reason to have an Agenda). Over breakfast they hash out her motives with the Chief, who clearly so egregiously self-identifies with the Law that he has no respect for her own Plot of Justice, even though disrespect for him does not come at the expense of amusement and insight. The three outgoing men agree that she is out of line, but that she is not looking for money from a man who is obviously broke; she is looking to HAUNT him. And this seems a bit too much for even Dennis to accept.
Personally, I thought London was a psychotic bitch from the very start. Seeing her treat Dennis with such disdain and Chip with such unwarranted affection made my blood boil, and behold! I was right: she had her own intentions. She was a femme fatale. But so what? The moment I knew her backstory, she gained not only Humanity but Approval. The very moment that the knuckleheads flashed on her dark behavior, I found an undying love for her that justified that same behavior. She was no longer a self-serving cunt; she was an Agent of Justice.
What is most ironical remains the Policeman’s pitch to save Chip. He knows by now that she is this complex and troubled person, but he still rages at Dennis by calling her “a piece of ass that YOU wanted”. He plays on Dennis’ good nature by trivializing Dennis’ emotions as infantile narcissism and self-entitled jealousy, pretending, with earnest conviction, that Dennis is allowing his Best Friend to Die all over the fact that Dennis envies Chip’s good luck. But the Chief KNOWS that Dennis, London, and Chip are More Than That, and that this situation is a LOT more high-context than a simple fight over flesh. How does Chief live with himself, then? Simple: knowing himself to be in possession of the Truth, he precludes the possibility that Dennis knew this all ready. When he finally breaks the Truth to Dennis, he expects Dennis to FORGET the injustice towards himself and to respond to the Imminent Danger in the way that the Officer has all ready prefigured. True to ENFP form, the ends justify the means, and the Subjective Factor (the Province of Introversion) is omitted; he forgets that Dennis has every reason to SUSPECT that there is more to London than a simple “piece of ass”, just as this writer suspected her of harbouring Ill Will. For Dennis, the news comes as a shocker and a really blow to his entire romantic conception of London. For me, it comes as her total vindication; her Ill Will is at least Unselfish, so she becomes a Breath of Relief in what by this point I had established as a World of Narcissists (a.k.a. Southern California).
What the Chief himself forgets, or otherwise omits, is that he has just ADDED to Dennis’ reasons to hate Chip. Not only did Chip hurt Dennis, multiple times. He irreparably damaged the woman that Dennis loves. And now he is about to get away with that, too.
So much for only a piece of ass.

The Seventh Episode is the one that really prompted this essay, in a fit of rage on the writer’s part. The episode begins with three close-up shots: of Chip, of London, and of Dennis. At first, we do not know what has happened; did Chip go to bed with London, after all? And what’s DENNIS doing in the room? But then we realize that Chip spent the night at Dennis’ place, and London is still chilling in the Studio Apartment.
Following a friendly breakfast with a Surprise Visit from the Police Chief, Chip gets to work in trying to save Venice, starting with the Furniture Store. He enlists Cooler to drive him to the office of A. Weiner, upon a tip-off that this is the man that his ex-wife married. Cooler does so under the auspices that they are going to Take Down the Man with petitions. As Chip dictates Cooler’s every strategic move, he finally gets an eventual meeting with Alicia Weiner, who he is surprised to discover is a woman. After Alicia tells him off, calling him a parasite and making it clear that SaVenice is a joke, more or less, even hinting that his ex stands up for him against Alicia’s loving suggestions not to, Chip leaves in a bold fury. Not long thereafter he arranges a meeting with his ex-wife’s other agent, in the “privacy” of a Parking Garage, so as to negotiate a New Deal. The negotiation is obviously a threat, and he makes no attempts to deny this fact.
At this point, the only person save for Alicia who is on to Chip is Cara. Dennis has to talk her out of jail in Chip’s absence, using his relatively weak connection with the Chief in order to negotiate a Deal with a disgruntled modern artist whose abstract piece was damaged by Cara’s reckless driving. Cara reminds Dennis that Dennis is a much better man than Chip, but Dennis continues to stand up for him. He tells her that Chip is simply troubled and he cites one of Chip’s many stolen self-help (and self-centred) platitudes: We cannot blame others for our own unhappiness. Of course, this is a lie. We know, as does Dennis, that London, for INSTANCE, CAN blame Chip for the Death of her Brother. A reasonable woman would not blame her own brother for a stranger’s destructive behaviours, nor herself for her own tragic loss. She will not put on a happy face and “take responsibility” for her own happiness, modeling herself after the killer whom she allows to go about his merry way. She would not risk this fate befalling an other, nor would she tell any such victim in the cycle that that person SHOULD be happy. After all: if one’s own suffering is one’s own fault, without exception, what about Chip Himself? He is ostensibly in PAIN, so he gets an excuse. Where is hers? She is not looking for one. She is looking for Justice. She knows that he is in pain, but how can she know that it’s enough?
Of course, Cara knows none of this. She is simply an Introvert that has enough experience with Chip, or perhaps sufficient Intuition, to see through him. But apparently she takes Dennis’ words to heart. And then she repeats them to London.
At this point we expect London to be more than cardinally pissed. But a plot twist made my head spin upon conclusion of the Episode. The last scene is in the Furniture Store, at night. Chip enters the store to wash his hands, as though of the situation at hand, when he finds London waiting for him in the dark, long legs and quaint, pointed face on display like some exotic bird, seated on a sort of Love Seat. He describes her as resembling a Ghost, and one belaboured metaphor later they have established that if she had truly intended to kill him then she would have done so by now. And then the miraculous happens: after some elaboration on both her motives and his own pain and guilt and anguish, she kisses him. They fall into the Love Seat and she climbs on top of him, removing a shoulder of her shirt, when in rushes Cooler, spearheading a mob of celebrating SaVenice protesters. It turns out that Chip’s plan worked; “Weiner pulled out”. This at least is what Cooler tells us shortly after he says, with such stark clarity that only a stoner can muster: “Oh, sorry. You were just about to get it on.”
Believing themselves to be victorious, not one of them aware of Chip’s Secret Meeting in the Parking Structure, the protesters crowd the Store. His new babe in one hand, and Cooler the Stoner in the other, Chip looks out at the Crowd as though he were a Hero. Dennis, from without the store, and in the midst of the crowd, looks in, his expression ambiguous, as Stephen Malkmus, the composer for the Series’ Original Soundtrack, plays a happy tune swimming in guitar chords, as cheerful in their major key as they are distorted.
Dennis has the same questions to answer as you do:
Does Chip deserve any of this?
Or does he deserve Vengeance against him?
Will she exact Vengeance still? Or will she let him keep getting away with this?
Has London all ready made up her mind?
Is she asking herself the same questions?

Are we responsible for our own happiness?

Even if that comes at the expense of an other?
And if that expense we ourselves cannot handle?
At least not without laying the blame on someone else?
Or hurting people again?
Or both?

I know MY answer. But keep this in mind, reader and prospective viewer:

In an earlier episode Dennis did Chip a kindness by buying him a bottle of Kombucha. He says he knows Chip loves to drink that stuff. This is because Chip keeps a bottle of it in his fridge. At least, the bottle is labeled “Kombucha”. It is one of those that you refill.
The bottle does not contain Kombucha. We find that out at the end of Episode One.
The bottle contains red wine.

Chip is still an alcoholic.


Dm.A.A.