welcome to the 14th day of National Poetry Month. today, i'm shining the light on my friend Rebecca Schumejda. a wonderful poet who just happened to be the first person to ever publish me. so if you don't like my writing, blame her. below are some links to her work and then a video from last year of her reading:
now on to my evening. i'm sitting in my chair watching wrestling last night and the phone rings. mom answers it and has a conversation. i think nothing of it. ten minutes later mom comes in the room and tells me that was my dad's sister. apparently, my father is in the VA Hospice with dementia and has stopped eating and in one of his lucid moments, asked to see his kids before he dies. that certainly caught me off guard. now i'm going to tell the rest of this out of sequence as i have some fucking venting to do. so, this morning my sister and i talk and decide that we should go see him. Thursday works best for her so i said fine. my sister called my dad's sister back and found out some more info. apparently he was in a nursing home but that got too expensive so they moved him to the VA. he's been there for THREE WEEKS. why the fuck we're just now getting called about this really pisses me off. but what should i expect from a person who hasn't been a part of my life for 20 years. so i call the VA to see what room he is in. they can't tell me because i'm not listed anywhere in any of his paperwork. but, they can't stop me from seeing him as long as i can prove that i'm his son. that was the last fucking straw i have in my back. i called my sister back and told her that i wasn't going to see him. i'll see the fucker when they put him in the dirt. later on in the day, my mother tries to talk me into seeing him, going with the angle that i might regret this later on. i asked her how many fucking wishes of mine did dad grant? and i'm supposed to grant his final one. the same fuck that nearly choked me to death at 13. that tried to have me put in jail at 17 when he blamed his hit and run accident on me. the same fuck that has held it against me my entire life that he had to wait a fucking year to write me off on the taxes because i was born a month later than i was supposed to be. i will gladly go to the funeral and i will even help put dirt on the fucking casket. i'm fucking done with letting that piece of fucking shit ruin my fucking life. now, i figure my sister will try her best to talk me into going since she'll be in town for a funeral on Thursday. as of right now, there is no chance in hell of it happening. as i told my mother, i've waited over 30 fucking years for that man to die. my patience is nowhere near running out. all i want is for the casket to be open so i can actually make sure that piece of shit is in it.
part two of the mind fuck was when i got those poems published at Bold Monkey. one of the poems, "the pain of not being good enough", just happens to be my actual suicide note i wrote a few weeks back. that poem has one of the coldest fucking endings i have ever written. i have no doubts that if i would have had a gun near me after writing that, i would have put a bullet right between my eyes. each time i read it it takes me back to that very dark place. a friend was worried that this move was going to be the death of me. i can't let her know just how fucking close she is to being right.
needless to say, i haven't slept well.
Gotham was great last night. i'm so happy that show is back.
The Voice actually had two performances that made me hop on iTunes and actually spend some money:
Monday Night Raw was pretty good last night. one match especially was fucking great:
on the DVR tonight, especially since mom is going to miss some of the shows since she's at work, will be The Voice, Undateable and Deadliest Catch. those three shows certainly scream sophisticated white trash to me.
that's all for today. hopefully your family is less dysfunctional than mine.
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...
Beth Hart - Mechanical Heart
Tei Shi - Verde (EP)
Kimberly Nichole - House of the Rising Sun (The Voice Performance)
Meghan Linsey - Girl Crush (The Voice Performance)
Sarah Bethe Nelson - Paying
"I can never leave a bookstore without buying a book. I read four or five at a time." - Mireille Guiliano
and your pro wrestling video of the day: