Thursday, April 30, 2015

the phone call i waited more than 30 years for...

welcome to the 30th and final day of National Poetry Month. i'm shining the light today on myself. not because i feel like being lazy, but mostly because of what i am going to share in this blog post. no other names should be associated with it. that being said, here are a few links that you may or may not remember. if you'd be so kind to share or BUY something, i'd be forever grateful. enjoy:

and for some more shits and giggles, a video or two:

and while we're on the poetry shit, i sent out 16 poems late last night/early this morning. 3 each to Dead Snakes and The Camel Saloon. 5 each to Carcinogenic Poetry and Eye To The Telescope. when i hear back from these places i will pass along the verdicts.

so my sister called yesterday while the Yankees were playing. i guess my father died either yesterday morning or late Tuesday night. no one is really sure as his wife had a fucking stroke last Friday and is in a coma. that truly stopped me from enjoying what should have been a glorious moment in my life. i have waited for my father to die since the first time he stuck me in the corner for 6 hours as a punishment for not cutting the grass the right way. so, as you might imagine, this has been a total mind fuck for me. what kills me is to hear my sister say that his wife's grown kids say he was the father figure they needed in their life. that he was a great man. i spent all of last night wrapping my head around that one. i can only figure that he saw his own failures in his own kids. there was no "him" in the stepchildren. which of course leads me back to my own failures as a human. i have no clue when there will be a funeral or anything. i have no clue if he had life insurance or if he gambled away all of what he earned over his years at the post office. knowing how much my father hated me, i figure, i'm the oldest, i'll end up with a bill. i tried my hardest last night to think of some good times with him. i thought of the THREE times we played catch over the 18 years he was a part of my life. then i thought about the wrestling show he took me to in Springfield, Ohio where i actually hit Kamala with a paper cup. of course, i got punished for that, but it was a great show. but, that was it. the memories that came flooding back was him telling me he married my mother because he needed someone to knock the shit out of his underwear. the time he fell off a ladder at the pre-school i went to trying to put up a basketball hoop. that of course was my fault for not holding the ladder. i was 8 years old. the time i got in trouble for hitting a tree with the riding lawnmower. i was 7. the time he broke my door down when i told him he was a horrible father. that was the first time he told me he would kill me. the time i was 7 and got grounded for life for packing all my things and leaving. the time he tried to choke me to death for getting in trouble for writing dirty words in Spanish in a girl's yearbook in junior high. and then the last memory that came back to me last night was watching him get put in the back of the police car when he told the cops i was the one driving his Ford Bronco when he had his hit and run accident. i still remember telling my sister as we watched from the bedroom window that i just put a Vietnam Vet in jail, he's going to kill me. he of course had the money on him to bail himself out of jail. mom was at a nursing conference in Columbus. i called her and told her her oldest child is in jail. she said what did you do? and i said, not me, the one you fucking married. we spent that night in a hotel. writing this i can recall the time i watched him beat my mother with a 2x4. i found out via my sister that some of his family is now reading this blog. welcome. WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THE LAST 22 YEARS? his whole damn family forgot about us once the divorce happened. i can understand not liking mom, but what the fuck did my sister and i do? if anyone EVER wonders why i despise family events or people in general, you may have a clue why. so i went to my room yesterday after i got the news and more or less did the same thing i did as a teenager when my father would upset me. i turned on "The End" by The Doors and just hit repeat.

hopefully my father's wife makes a full recovery or dies in peace. i wish her no pain and have absolutely no beef with her at all. as for my father, the sooner i can see him in the ground, the quicker i can start to actually let these fucking demons go. but i've got 39 years worth of shit to deal with. and this is the part where being a loner really fucking sucks. all my friends have lives and families to deal with. and i have the misfortune to always feeling like if i asked for help i would just end up being a burden. good times. there will be plenty of nights where i will be drinking myself to sleep. like i did last night. not sure if it was sleep or just pure exhaustion. but it was 4 hours of sleep knowing that the fucker that haunted my life since birth was no longer with us.

and to think, if i was born in December of 1975, my whole fucking life could have been different. but i will know until the day i die, my father hated the fact that since i was born in January of 1976, he had to wait an entire fucking year to write me off on the taxes. looking back, it feels like he tried to make damn sure he got that money back from me one way or another.

the only thing i will thank my father for... thank you for being such a piece of shit that i refuse to pollute the earth with anything that could possibly have your bloodline in it. thankfully, my sister has so far refused as well. good for you that you at least found the fucking guts before you died to treat someone in your life with some decency and respect. i just wish you would found the fucking guts to tell me to my face that you were sorry for all the fucking up and that you loved me. however long i have to live on this earth, i will know to the day i die, my father NEVER loved me. it makes it all clear now why neither you or mom did anything when i was molested. you probably thought i deserved it.

welcome everyone to the fucking cross i am stuck on for the rest of my life.

a quick musical break:

the Yankees pissed away chance after chance to win the game yesterday in extra innings. they lost 3-2 in 13 innings. somewhat appropriate... my lucky number is 13. given the news i got in the 8th inning, of course they would lose. they are off today and start a series up in Boston tomorrow.

NXT was really good last night. of course, any show that features Kevin Owens is going to be good.

Lucha Underground was excellent last night as well. and i watched the Mick Foley comedy special last night on the WWE Network, "Cheap Pops". much, MUCH better than i thought it was going to be. hopefully Mick will be in my area soon. i'll have to go check him out.

tonight is going to be one of the biggest clusterfucks on television i can ever remember. the New York Rangers start their second round series with the Capitals tonight. the NFL Draft starts tonight. the New Orleans Saints have 2 picks in the first round. already scheduled for my DVR is The Big Bang Theory, The Comedians and Louie. plus, the NBA playoffs are going on. fuck me runnin'.

another musical break, this time from late last night:

if you have made it this far, you deserve a prize. unfortunately, i'm a poor asshole that can only offer you a sticker. if you so desire, email me your mailing address and i'll get you something in the mail soon.

i'm going to try to get to the bank today before it rains. if i fail, i will go tomorrow. i suppose it wouldn't be bad to start off May with a nice deposit. fuck, the year is already a quarter gone. not much longer until i'm 40. that's when life really begins right?

that's all for me today. i thank you if you have read all of this drivel. feel free to leave comments or email me if you so desire. my skin is thick enough for the hate, so if my father's family wishes to call me a liar, please, go right ahead. or if you'd like to actually get to know the cousin you CHOSE to forget about, just like it was 22 years ago, all my information is public.

be well. be creative. be cool. be quick to send me CASH, panties, hate mail, love letters, broken promises and dirty pennies from heaven.

peace and chicken grease...


The Band - I Shall Be Released
Otis Redding - A Change Is Gonna Come
Jim Croce - You Don't Mess Around with Jim
Cowboy Junkies - Powderfinger
The Doors - The End

"It doesn't hurt to feel sad from time to time." - Willie Nelson

and your pro wrestling video of the day:

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