Stockholm Syndrome Blues

by Michael Sherrillo

Did you ever hear one of those stories from someone that just seems to suddenly put everything your going through into perspective? I did. However, let me give you a little history first…

So, my girlfriend who I had been living with for about a year and a half broke up with me a little bit ago and moved out. Now she will not even talk to me. I am not sure what I did wrong, but our entire relationship was plagued with suspicions of cheating. This is ironic because she is pretty much the first girlfriend I have been with who I actually never cheated on. While in retrospect, I can understand her suspicions and worries, I am very bitter about her not talking to me because I think it is because she thinks that I did cheat on her. This makes me wish that I had, because at least there would be a reason for all this. But, through numerous stories of love and loss which I have been privileged to hear in the past few weeks, I realize that she is probably just using that idea as an excuse to do what she did to me and my roommate, which is totally burn us and leave us high and dry financially after lying about how she wouldn’t screw us on rent and bills and whatnot, and because being angry at me, even if its for no fucking reason, makes her leaving that much easier on her. Nevertheless, I am digressing… what truly put her and everything into perspective was a story my apartment manager told Pat and I while commiserating on how betrayed we felt and how we never though she could do this to us. The story went something like this…

Mark’s brother had been dating this girl seriously off and on for about 8 years. She had some kids and baggage, but he loved the kids and the girl and really wanted to be with them forever. However, his parents had married each other twice, and each time had had a very horrible relationship, which made all their kids nervous about the whole marriage thing. Understandable. But this girl kept pressuring Mark’s brother to marry her so after a lot of soul searching and thinking, he decided he did love her and decided to take “the leap”. He bought the ring; they were engaged and set a date. Suddenly, he realizes that in the 8 years they have been seeing each other, they have never lived together. Sure, they spent a lot of time together, but they have never actually shared a closet and a bedroom and house, so he brings this up to her. He asks if they can move in together and postpone the wedding, just a few months so they can make sure they are compatible and everything is okay. He still wants to marry her; he just wants to live together for a while first. She flips. She accuses him of trying to back out of the marriage and in disgust breaks off the engagement and tells him it is over. She becomes totally cold and indifferent to him. He is heartbroken, he becomes suicidal, depressed, but after a few months and some therapy, he begin coming to terms with everything, and though he regrets his decision because he realizes she was the love of his life, but he tries to move on.

Well, a few months later, as he is beginning to get his shit together again, they “bump” into each other one night somewhere. They end up having sex, after which she confesses that she has been missing him and thinking about him this whole time. He tells her he regrets what he said, that he still loves her and wants to marry her. This is on a Sunday; they decided to meet at the Justice of the Peace's office on Thursday to get married. He asks Mark to be his witness. He is beyond excited and overjoyed, Thursday rolls around and he and Mark arrive at the Peace’s office. And they wait. And they wait. And they wait.

Two hours go by, and she still does not show up. At this point, the man is frantically worried something must have happened to her. Then she arrives. With her is a coworker of his, Kenny. She walks up and there is an awkward moment as everyone says hello. Well, all Mark’s brother can do is stare at her ring finger and the ring on it, Mark finally asks if that was the same ring he had given her. She triumphantly holds it out to them, and tells them her and Kenny are married, and have been fucking for months and married for several weeks.

This is the single handedly most evil real person I have ever heard of. The entire thing, the accidental meeting, the sex, the planned wedding later that week, was all just to rub everything in Mark’s brother’s face and hurt him. Neither Mark nor his brother ever though this sweet girl would be capable of ever doing something so beyond wrong or mean, something so truly evil, especially since they had know her for 8 years! All Mark could say to his brother was that “at least you now know her true colors, you know what she is really like, and aren’t you glad that you didn’t marry her now that you know who she really is. You made the right decision.” Mark then told Pat and me the same thing. And you know what, I think he is right.

I know who she really is now, and as much as I still love her, and even though every song on the radio reminds me of her and I can’t stop hurting inside or missing her or wondering how she is and what she is doing, I know that she wasn’t the person I was with. Who she is now, the person who did this to us, for no reason other than the one she made up in her head, is the real Mary. Now or three years from now, she would have done this to me eventually. And though I love her and it hurts, I’m glad to know the truth, and I am glad that she is gone and I am free.

I only worry now about how I can ever trust another person again. I thought that in a year and a half, with all the memories, all the love and sacrificing and working together, I could trust her. And apparently even 8 years isn't enough time. Mark told us that there are no garantees in life, that love really is a leap of faith. But after this, I'm not sure I will ever be able to take that leap again... she wasn't on the lease, she wasn't on the bills, my parents did make her sign a contract for the car... we all trusted her... what kind of horrible person betrays all that? And then justifies it all with some stupid comment my roomate makes trying to cheer me up! I mean seriously! It's called a fucking joke, he said shit like that all the time!

I will never make the same mistake of trusting again.

In the immortal words of comic book guy: "Worst life lesson, ever".

Time Keeps on Tickin'...

So much has happened in the last few weeks, and it’s been so overwhelming, I don't even know where to begin... Mary left me, I'm in the middle of midterms, and I am but a week or two away from possibly being released on probation... well, the facts come easy enough, it's the emotion that are difficult to explain; fear, anger... ohhh, so much anger, excitement, hope, doubt, stress, sadness, depression, mania... I guess it just boils down to life, in all its bitter-sweetness. I am finding that adopting an existential perspective is helping to cope with all that has been thrown at me lately, just living in the moment, in the present, and not worrying about what will come or what has been. It's hard to let it all go, but each day puts a few more steps and a little more distance between me and my past. Time slowly stitching closed the gaping wounds of love and loss. But the anger... it haunts me and helps me, fueling my drive and passion to move on, to be better... I feel like such a different person now, I want to reflect that in myself, I look in the mirror and the bright happy guy just isn’t me... I feel a little darker, edgier, more bitter and jaded by life and people. Fuck angst, this isn't some whiney little kid who’s had his heart broken, this is a life changing experience, a complete cognitive reconstruction of myself and my life. First off is the tattoo, my compadres, Katie and Tammey, are helping me pick out my first; the theme: fuck love. They are so excited; I have about a million magazines they want me to go through so we can get ideas. Next is the piercing. Pat and I are in cahoots, he wants his labret pierced, and I want a lip piercing. Once I'm free, it's off we go, friends in tow, on phase one of my reinvention. Next is the hair. I like it long, but I'm sick of happy blonde Brad/Zack, I'm getting it chemically straightened and low lighted with dark streaks. I feel like a rock star, time to look the part. I'm sick of the music I listen to also, I want to hear anger, I want to hear real life and music and see shows about experiences al la dirty bars, panties, heroin, fights, love, and cocaine blues... I'm ready to get the hell off the couch and out into the world with some dark badass punk shows that are coming. I've made so many new friends, and met so many awesome people, who are so supportive and inspiring and individual... I feel great. I feel free. I feel invincible. I'm rocking midterms (looks like straight A's so far) I'm kissing off a class that is impossible, I'm working hard, moving to Ocean Beach soon with Pat, and am going to surf and party my brains out. They say the best revenge is a life well lived: hell ya.

“Two Postings Diverge on a Blogger's Page, and Sorry I Could Not Travel Both...”
By Michael Sherrillo

I am torn between two thoughts right now on which to write upon, a brief encounter which has enchanted my imagination to the point of a fixative delirium, and an article I read on sex trends in young adults… decisions decisions. Maybe I have time for both…
I’ll try to stat with the concrete article; maybe it will give me a chance to regain a little of the composure which has left me for the last 24 hours.

So apparently, teens are having more guilt free sex at younger ages, the norm now being around 15. I don’t see a problem with that. The problems with sex are reproduction. Psychologically, I don’t think that kids that age are capable of being good parents really, or of making the best choices for themselves or their potential new offspring. However, the article relates current sexual activity to the availability of birth control, especially for women, and basically says that since women no longer bound to reproduction, they able to experience a sexual freedom which has previously only been granted to men. I whole heartedly support that freedom. If we are to truly have an equal society, then we should be able to shrug off the genetic dispositions which have been preventing it for so long, condoms helped free men from STD’s, while still placing the potential burden of reproduction on women, the birth control pills has now freed women from that, just as Viagra has given the elderly a second chance at discovering a sexual identity. With the potential dangers now mitigated, why shouldn’t people who are at an age to explore their sexualities be allowed? If “mistakes” do occur, then there are medications and treatments for several of the more common STD’s, and abortions are a legal option for those unwilling to have children yet, or ever. I understand a little more clearly the importance religion played, with its emphasis on sexual purity till marriage, and I think that before such contemporary options were available to a majority of the populace, then these activities would have had detrimental impacts on society. But in the same way that the danger of eating pork has been changed by science and progress since biblical times, so now have the dangers of sex.

We now live in an era where men and women, young and old, can discover themselves, their feelings and desires, and embrace their individuality and discover what it is that makes them happy as autonomous human beings. Legislation which supports self discovery and awareness I wholly support, as long as it doesn’t invade on a persons ability to choose the life and happiness they desire. I believe contraceptives should be available to young teens, just as I feel every car should come equipped with a breathalyzer which prevents a person from starting their vehicle if they are drunk. I don’t think teaching abstinence is the solution, just as prohibition wasn’t a solution in the early part of the 20th century. Laws need to start understanding human psychology instead of trying to change them.

People keep arguing about how the “innocence” of youth is being lost at younger and younger ages, but why is that bad? I don’t wish that I was a naïve and unknowledgeable or experienced person, I crave experience, and it is that which helps me grow as a person. This Victorian mentality of innocence was once forced upon women, and if we learned anything from the Women’s Rights movement, it is that this kind of behavior isn’t welcomed by the people is represses, and should be considered socially unacceptable. Yet because we silence children’s voices, legislatively denying them the rights to participate in the political process, their feelings go unheard. Only the parent's wishes matter. If we don’t want our government to be a monarchy, denying it citizens the rights we all crave, why do we subject every one of our member to such a state for the first 18 years of their lives. Young people are much more knowledgeable, responsible, and intelligent than we give them credit for. The maturation process should be one in which we guide them into the world as potential equals, exposing them to reality, both the good and the bad, so that they are able to understand it, experience it, and be ready for it when they are left to face it on their own. We hurt only our future when we try to shelter and hide children from the realities of life. They are individuals, with needs, feelings, and rights, that shouldn’t be that different from our own.

My Girlfriend Doesn't Get Me
by Michael Sherrillo


Passion. Romance. Two terms which are inextricably linked in most any relationship. Except this one. I feel like we are on opposite sides of a wheel. I don't feel especially romantic without a lot of sex; she isn't especially interested in sex without more romance. And so we sit like two kids on a teeter-totter, stuck in equilibrium, unmoving. I can understand her perspective, but the problem is that with the limited resources/time at my disposal considering my custody situation, I can only be so romantic... but I have been trying, sexy love poem here, cute notes there, trying to just be happy and want to cuddle every time I see her... but I just don't feel the same reciprocative push from her end. And I don't think she really understands... in those post coital periods, I want nothing more than to hold her and cover her with kisses and affection, sex is the closest thing I have to a truly deep and spiritual act, and afterwards I feel like I'm basking in the afterglow of communicating with god. I am Moses, descending from the Mount, tablets of ultimate truth in hand, face red and burnt from being so near to such holiness.
I dream of just staying inside her, curled up together, skin against skin, and just talking or kissing and nuzzling before drifting off to sleep together... but that doesn't happen.
Instead, it's a few seconds of breathing, then she wants to dash away and clean up, and then she pulls on cloths and wants to leave or go to bed or something else besides just be together and cuddle. And it really sucks, because that’s almost my favorite part, the post act. It makes me feel like she is disgusted by all the sexy wetness and nakedness which I love so much, like she can't wait to detach herself from me and pretend that it all never happened.
And let me segue to romance for a second. She wants to talk about me not making an effort. Lets not, for a moment, mention her lack of any significant desire to put anything more than an occasional "sesh" into our sex life, while avoiding some of my favorite things, like the previously mentioned post cuddle, or other more explicit acts. Let’s talk about her romantic effort. There really aren’t any. No letter, hell she never even writes back when I send her emails, excepts a few sentences, or if I do send her a poem or a long letter, she doesn't even acknowledge it, I have to ask her if she even got it, and then its just, “did you like it?”, "yeah" and that all she has to say. But she can talk about a song for hours and listen to it for days... but when it comes to us, she seems deaf-mute half the time about her feelings and about showing and expressing any romance/desire/passion. When do I get to be swept off my feet a little, or surprised, or taken care of? When is my turn to be on the receiving end? Where are my letter and poems of love, where are the song lyrics that make her think of me? She talks all this stuff about how I don't communicate... well I could use a little communication from her as well. Not just about problems, but about good stuff. Gush to me about you and me and us a little, because otherwise I don't think you feel it. Then, she dismisses all the effort I do try to put into the relationship when she says things like, "there isn't any romance". Well, she could try putting a little into it as well. I give her most of my money; she hasn't even gotten me some socks, which I asked her to pick up over a month ago (since I am not allowed to go out, the custody thing again). Even that would have been a nice little thing she could have done for me.
I'm getting a little out of hand, and just venting at this point. All I mean to say is that I do understand her feelings, but I don't feel like she understands mine, or like she really takes them into consideration. Nothing means more to me than her happiness... unfortunately, I feel like nothing means more to her than her happiness either, at least not mine. And so we are where we are, stuck. And no matter what I do, I can't help but feel like she is pushing me away, or like she is simply drifting away herself. And I have no idea what to do anymore, except maybe just let her go... I want this to work, but I want her to want it to work also, and to put some effort into “us”, because this indifference I can’t help but feel is breaking my heart.

Post Script 1pm: and now, a few hours after writing this, after having vented my feelings, I feel great, I feel happy and secure, and remember that I am totally in love with this girl and want/hope to spend the rest of my life with her. Sometimes, I just need an outlet to get whatever negative thoughts and feeling are stuck inside me out and away so I can look at my life more clearly. I just get to emotionally close to the trees and can't see the forest. Sure we have problems, and we always will, but I am happy with her, and can't imagine my life without her. She is the partner I want to continue to grow and evolve and change with. And I love her with all my heart.

Withdrawal Dreams
by Michael Sherrillo

I usually don't remember my dreams. That’s not in the usual way most people have of remembering that something was going on and just not being able to recall it. My head hits the pillow and what feels like 30 seconds later, I'm awake and it's morning. No weird sensations, no vivid feelings I just can't quite grasp, nothing. Fade to black, and then it's time to rise and shine.
At least that’s what usually goes on. And then I became poor. I should qualify that, I've always been poor, but usually never broke, and never for this long. So, with only 8 dollars in my account for the past week, I just can't bring myself to buy a pack of cigarettes. Naturally I've been going through the withdrawals for the past few days. Which aren’t as bad as everyone seems to say. I feel desire, I want one, but I'm not shaking-screaming-going-to-die-if-just-just-don't-get-one-
more-sweet-delicious-puff-o-nicotine.
I just miss it, in the same way you miss a friend who is on vacation for a week. But my dreams... woooooaaaaah... they have been something else. Lights, colors, people, places, plotlines dripping with drama and emotion... it's like some weird independent movie which is so obscure and personal that only I truly understand all the symbolic meaning and depth. Sleep has become like an acid trip since I stopped smoking. And I've found myself trying to sleep in a lot more. It's really fun, the second I close my eyes, even if it's only for a 15 or 20 minuet nap, I have the coolest scenes start playing on the movie screen of my eyelids. This makes me kind of happy, because I can enjoy not smoking almost as much as I enjoy smoking. My life may be mundane, but it's the little joys I can find, like tiny gems on a long wide beach, that make it seem so very precious to me.

Thoughts on Prop. 73
by Michael Sherrillo


Until the day I turned 18, I was not a child first and a boy second. I was born a boy, just as I was born with blonde hair and blue eyes and fair skin. That the state considered me a child was simply a temporary category. The same goes for girls, they are born females, that they are children is incidental. The rights that women have should be granted to all women, not just adults. Too much emphasis is put on age in this country. I have studies physiological psychology, I realize the implication of not being completely cerebrally developed by age 18, however, most people do not realize that development continues until they are in their mid-twenties (not just 18 or 21)! Even then, there are cognitive developmental categories that continue throughout adulthood as pruning of neurons and experience continue to make your mental gadgetry more fine-tuned. Not to mention the fact that nutrition, exercise, and your surroundings also have a great impact on delaying or speeding up development.
If we want to make laws that are based on physiology, we cannot ignore the fact that women’s genitals are part of their physiology as well. Their body has developmental stages just as their mind does, and we need laws that understand that a girl can have a baby at 14. So what if she isn't an "adult", your an adult when your 18, yet you can't drink till your 21. So why if the government can delay some rights, can they not rush others?
People keep saying, "Well when/if I had a kid I'd want to know if they were going to have an abortion!” Of course you would, and that is the very reason you shouldn't be informed! Yeah, so there are a few cool parents who would be understanding and supportive and this may open some communication doors, but how many of us remember our parents as being cool like that? Mine certainly weren’t! Voting "NO" on this proposition means you are protecting children from their parents and themselves. I've know a few girls who had backdoor abortions; some took pills and almost died trying to kill their kids, another threw herself down the stairs, and one in middle school actually had a wire hanger abortion and was hospitalized for a month from tearing and internal bleeding! Guess what, all of them came from very conservative homes, with Christian middle class parents (the very ones who are supporting this prop.), and one's father was a minister! All because their parents thought abortions was wrong, and wanted the girls to have the babies and either deal with the burden or give them up to adoption.
If we want to acknowledge that these minors haven't had their decision making equipment fully developed yet, then why would we put them in a position which could force them to suffer for the rest of their lives as single mothers who would be, statistically, living under the poverty line and raising kid or putting him in foster care, which would then make their children more prone to criminal and violent behavior?
The truth is most of these adults are too blindsided by their beliefs and morals to be able to remember their own childhood, and exactly how unreasonable parents are. Minors or not, we are human being capable of rational thought and decision making processes, and kids have to deal with that responsibility for most of their lives, the grades they get as a freshman in high school will influence the college they go to, and their career choices. If minors aren't capable of that kind of responsible though, then colleges and universities should only check your grades from your senior year.
Most minors understand their parents and their views and reactions, and are aware of the costs and consequences of making a decision like that. If they aren’t, then it is up to the abortion clinics and Planned Parenthood to give them accurate and unbiased information regarding the procedure and alternatives so they can make that decision on their own.
We aren’t talking about six year olds. These are human beings in their early and mid teens, let’s give them a little more credit. Their parents obviously are more worried about their beliefs and being controlling than of having rational and empirical discussions, if they weren't, this Prop. wouldn't even be on the ballot.

"Comparitive Literature 561"
a Haiku and a Limerick, by Michael Sherrillo

Her monotone voice
Washing away interest
Time running backwards


I'm sorry I am always late,
and I want to do well in your class,
but I have more important things I could be doing
than listen to you talk out your ass.

“Your Conditions of Love” or “Marijuana”
by Michael Sherrillo


If I had a million dollars,
would I not give you all the world?
Would I dangle carrots before you
and ask you to change all your views?
If you told me you were a believer
I may say, “I think you are wrong”
but I still wouldn’t want you to struggle
I wouldn’t tell you, “You’re on your own”
If we lived in another country
or in times much different from now
where Christianity was no longer legal
and prayer wasn’t allowed,
I’d tell you “It’s okay
to pray and to worship
whenever you visit my house”
Because I love you so much
I couldn’t, wouldn’t even know how
to make my money, my love, my support
contingent on beliefs I chose for myself.
I’d only want you to be happy
to discover life’s truths for yourself
and to pursue and enjoy them with all of your heart
and know I would always support you.

“Coming To Know Jesus”
by Michael Sherrillo

A boy named Johnny walked down the road
on his way home from Sunday school.
When he met a man in a long white robe
whose hair seemed to shine like gold.
The man said, “Have you seen me boy?”
eyes wild with nervous glee.
So Johnny looked at his stubbled beard
and the sandals on his feet,
“Well, mister, I ‘reckon I have.
We just talked ‘bout you in class”.
Then the man looked ready to run away
so Johnny quickly added,
“Your pictures on this book right here,
I read from every night.
And every day my parents pray
to you, Jesus Christ.”
The man glanced down the street both ways,
while he fingered his paper wristband.
Then he reached out a sweaty palm
and Johnny happily grabbed it.
Down the street he led the boy
to a beat up Chevy Buick,
and as he open the boys door for him
he said, “You ready to meet the lord?”

"Mary"
a poem by Michael Sherrillo

a mantra my every breath
a prayer to the holiness of your
lips pressed together waiting
against me against my
tongue touching tasting
deep into your dark
crevice your heat
uttering warm words whispering
forgotten languages lost
forever into the night
over and over the echo of your
moan your sweat your
cries lingering in my mind
twisted sheets twisted
dreams intertwined interlocked
one
your lips still
flushed swollen against
around me while
you my goddess my shrine my
temple remain sacred
your name still waiting
unspoken upon my
lips