Oh, the words I could say. . .

I would love to say I hate you and I want, more than anything, for you to be dead - soon! But everybody says that would be mean and that I'm better than that - which is true most days. So, I'll just say, the best way I know how:

You SUCK!! In a big, self absorbed, I'd-try-but-the-complexities-of-human-emotion-bore-me-and-are-too-difficult-to-take-time-away-from-my-own-self-worship sort of way.

You're despicable. The level of your arrogance disgusts, saddens, and angers me more than sexual abuse suffered by 2 generations of my family at the hands of my step-father. He, at least had a poor upbringing and mental illness. You, sorry representative of evolution that you are, just choose the path that's easier for you. You are a pathetic shadow of the man you wish people believed you are. Worthless, really.

The air your lungs suck would be better served pumping the last few seconds of heroic effort into the necrotic, wasted lungs of a filthy, homeless, thieving vagrant to extend his useless life.

Listening to the chaotic fiction & self-rationalization you pass off as conversation is tiring and sickening to witness. I'd have thought you at least capable of making lies sound a bit realistic. But that even your imagination is broad enough to encompass all the lies you tell yourself to make your feeble flounderings and flailings seem socially acceptable? The notion is intolerable. Only a wimp, with no hope of acceptance or redemption by any other means, would bother selling himself such a sorry bill of goods and calling it his life. I wish you would just vanish into a puff of acrid sulfer. Not a soul would suffer for your absence. Not a soul for even a second. You drain all joy from anything you touch. Except for financial aspects, you are a fake human with nothing to offer and a unique blind spot to meaningful gain.

I wish you nothing but nothing - always. As you have given, so shall you receive. You are a pathetic, miserly loser, so weak and cold that you would blot out the sun to keep it from shining on your hoard of delusions. I do secretly wish that you someday experience true emptiness in your life, the kind that seers your mind and soul, leaving you without capacity to plead for, earn, or even yearn for foregiveness from whatever Higher Power may still give a shit about your dark, heartless, withered void of an existence.

You should attempt, if you ever muster the courage, to be a real, full person. You miss so much hiding in that safety net of emotionless denial. There are real joys to be had, but you would have to embrace the notion of being open-minded to others' opinions and possible superiority of skill or knowledge, (dipshit!). Experiencing the joy of another person is better than feeling your own. It might take, ya know, paying their life a bit of attention. It might even call for some empathy or compassion. So, I'm not holding out a whole lot of hope. Your skills are more well suited for pursuits described in the previous paragraph. Which is fine, for you.

But, hey!! Good luck with this current plan. . .looks like it's got potential to get you right where you deserve to be. God's speed.


To Whom It May Concern

Useful quote from Jesse James' press statement in response to news that he's been cheating on Sandra Bullock. Can be sprinkled liberally into almost any conversation and should be used several times a day:

"There is only one person to blame for this whole situation, and that is me. It's because of my poor judgement that I deserve everything bad that is coming my way.

This has caused my wife and kids pain and embarrassment beyond comprehension and I am extremely saddened to have brought this on them. I am truly very sorry for the grief I have caused them. I hope one day they can find it in their hearts to forgive me."

Note that Sandra Bullock became an Oscar winner last week. Jesse doesn't need to keep his wife in a basement to get it on with his new girlfriend. Though he probably does own a velvet burnout brocade pick-up-guy shirt and fancy white leather shoes. . .

Phase II

It's not so much grieving the passing of this phase of my life. It's more discovering that it was a phase. I thought it was my life. What I'm grieving is life as I know it. There was no backup plan. There was no reserve for Option B. I put it all out there.

So. . . "you can do whatever you want now" comes with 2 kids, 40 years of emotional baggage, severely outdated work experience and an expansive horizon of solitude. Deep breaths and chocolate are just not going to cut it. Something's going to come to me, right? Some notion of where to go, what to do first, next and forever?

Today, I'm going to sit in the sun and seek inspiration in a book, my iPod and the breeze.


Children will play

So it occurs to Jane that she does not want to play with Johnny and his ever-evolving exclusionary rule making. So she tells him, "I don't want to play anymore." And Johnny, knowing he cannot win if no one plays, throws a tantrum. He purposely sits too close to Jane, making her uncomfortable. He makes sure to grab the cookie with the most chips, so she can't have it. He hides the toys on a high shelf, knowing Jane can't reach.

Well, Jane really doesn't want to play. Jane knows that cookies would just make her fat anyway. Jane knows where a ladder is, and could reach the toys - if she wanted to play. Instead she just feels sorry for Johnny. When will he learn that no one wants to play with someone who's willing to stack the deck, change the rules, or lie so that they always win. He'll become a self-serving egotistical narcissist if allowed to grow up this way. And Jane needs no part of that shit again!

Jane will go read a book. Maybe later, she'll play tea party with some of the girls up the street. Good Jane. Good for you.