10/18/04

Outside Looking In

"I got nothing, ma, to live up to".

Hey

What's been up with Bill lately? Well, not drinking mostly. Been a week, which is no great shakes to a normal person, but pretty damn good for the sodden mess I've been recently.

It's mostly a physical thing, though I'll admit concerns for my mental and spiritual health also caused me to take a step back and set the old brown, and sometime green, and some other times clear, and even sometimes in the right company, blue-

(ALL RIGHT, ALREADY).

-bottle down for a brief period, to regroup. One of the main physical reasons for this momentary burst of sanity is I'm tired of living with my damn stomach on fire. It was hurting pretty much constantly anyway, and then throwing crazy man's taco casserole, among other things, down first thing in the morning sure wasn't helping, yet another breakfast gut punch for Billy, I was coming home and writhing on the floor like some strychnine fed loafer wolf out of Old Yeller or something. At least this way I'm starting out eating that stuff- Arabian spareribs, oy vey- without an already alcohol ravaged digestive tract.

Also needed to straighten up so I could straighten up this house. When Anita and Impetuous were out here Mr. Peanut night- which by the way, Rachel finds totally hilarious, that's Daddy's girl- they commented on how neat- not as in cool, as in not messy- this place was. Well, I admit that was my intention, but boy, they should've stopped by here last Monday, except they probably couldn't have gotten inside the door. This place was a goddamn Health Department immediate shut down notice disgrace.

Clothes, books, magazines, comics, CDs, loose weights, papers all over the damn floors, as well as a big clot of something that looked and smelled suspiciously like dried vomit on the floor in one of the back bedrooms, and another in the music room, don't remember putting them there, empty beer cans in every room of the house- I counted 61- including both bathrooms, you know you're headed for trouble when you can't even take a shit without a beer in your hand, the air in here full of that stale beer smell, and Bill sweat from all the stinking unwashed work out clothes, also found a couple empty vodka bottles, and one gin- I have no recollection of drinking any gin recently, but there it was- dirty dishes and silverware cluttering every flat space in the kitchen, I hadn't washed a dish in weeks, which was recently resulting in some strange food/silver and flatware combinations as I made do with what was still clean, sort of like that old verse-

I eat my peas with honey
I've done so all my life
It makes the peas taste funny
But it keeps them on my knife

I thought that was damn funny when I was six, and I think it's damn funny now. A lot funnier than actually eating peas with honey, let me tell you. Anyway, what a fucking rat's nest I was living in, it's still sort of a wreck, but nothing like what it was.

Also, my attitude was getting really shitty, getting back to that "Life sucks so I think I'll be a gigantic fucking asshole" way of thinking that has served me and those who give a damn about me so very poorly in the past. Which is stupid, but there you go, I can do stupid like nobody's business. As for life-

(LIFE IS A DEATH MATCH NOBODY'S EVER WON).

Wow, who said that? Kierkegard?

(NO).

Sarte?

(NO. I SAID THAT).

My goodness. Aren't you just the surprising little philosopher, then.

(I HAVE MANY DEPTHS THAT HAVE NEVER BEEN PLUMBED).

I wouldn't touch that line with a ten foot pole- wrapped in barbed wire.

(IT'S BEST THAT YOU DON'T).

Anyway, I don't want to beat the issue to death, I'm just taking a brief respite from the drinking thing, before getting back into the fight. Once more into the breach, dear friends . . .

Moving on to recent correspondence-

In reference to last issue's Al and the prostitute paragraph, I continue to be amazed at the diversity of human opinion. One person wrote in and asked what the hell I thought I was doing even speaking to a prostitute- what, can you get cooties that way?- another was pissed that I didn't let Al have his fun, and even asked, "Haven't you ever been with a hooker yourself?"

Well, that's a loaded damn question considering how I feel about my ex-wife, and anyway, aren't you the nosy fucking Parker to be asking it? The answer, since we duck no damn question in these electronic pages is, technically, I'm not sure. Seriously. I've never handed over cash in exchange for sex if that's what you're asking. I've often paid in other, less tangible ways for my sexual enjoyment, again reference my ex-wife, among many others. However, I know one of the girls I slept with at Marshall had a part time career as a "nude model" which included screwing guys for money, so in that sense I guess I have been with a hooker, as you put it, but not while she was hooking, so I don't know if that counts or not.

In all my years as a man of the world, in fact, going way back to when I was just an adolescent of the world, I've only known two guys who were regular customers of prostitutes. One was this loathsome little toad of a nurse who used to work with Jason and I at CCIL, he used to frequently come in and turn our stomachs with his latest story of how he'd spent his money the previous night. Him I could certainly see why he was having to pay out the ass for his fun. And Jason, had you heard that this guy had a heart attack a few years ago and almost died? The only problem with that sentence is the word "almost". He was a puke, man, seriously.

The other guy, though, was this very soft spoken, actually quite good looking guy I used to work with at Abraxas, I'd have never suspected it of him. He was married, I met his wife, in fact they had me over to dinner one time when I had to stay over in Parkersburg, and she wasn't half bad, this guy- I'll call him Jack, cos that wasn't his name- got caught in one of those sting operations there in downtown Parkersburg, caught all kinds of hell at home, and at work, he almost lost his job over it, his marriage was still real shaky when Abraxas closed. I don't know how that worked out for him, I hope it did, cos Jack was actually a very nice guy, I liked him quite a bit.

One night during Jack's troubles I again had to stay over in Parkersburg for the night, and Jack wasn't real anxious to get home, cos his wife- we'll call her Jill- was just giving him unremitting holy hell from the time he walked in the door, until the time he left the next morning- so we went out for some beers after work.

After a couple beers- it became apparent pretty early that Jack wasn't a drinking man in the class of yours truly, he got pretty buzzed, pretty quickly- he started talking about the bust, which I had totally stayed away from, figuring it'd be the last thing in the world he'd want to talk about. Well, turns out it was the only damn thing he did want to talk about, he went on about it, and then on about it some more, but he never did answer the question I most wanted the answer to, which was "WHY?", I mean, Jill was a nice looking girl, and I'd seen the prostitutes hanging on the streets there in Parkersburg and they were a hard looking bunch, this was before the Hugh Grant thing but it was the same type question, "You're gonna leave Liz Hurley home alone and go off to pay for THAT BEAST? What in the name of all that's holy is fucking WRONG WITH YOU?!"

So I asked old- whoops, typed his real name in there, had to go back and change it to Jack- why the hell he'd leave nice looking Jill to regularly- he told me before the bust he'd been having sex with prostitutes two or three times a week, for years, my next question was, didn't that get fucking EXPENSIVE?- the answer being yes, by the way- go pay for something that I sincerely doubted was anywhere near as nice. And basically what he told me was these women would do things Jill wouldn't. He got explicit, and I'm not trying to be coy when I say I can't remember exactly what it was they were doing, I remember it had something to do with butts, anal sex, or spanking, or something, it wasn't like he was wanting to park the car in there or anything. I do distinctly remember thinking it was no big deal, so much so that I asked-

B: And Jill won't do that with you?
S: I've never asked her.
B: YOU'VE NEVER ASKED HER?
S: I'm too embarrassed. I don't want her to think I'm a pervert.

Fucking hell, I almost fell out of my chair. Here's this guy risking his health, cos even back in the Year Of Your Lord 1995, having regular sex with prostitutes was just an insane health risk as far as I'm concerned, I don't care what precautions you take, and his safety- these girls aren't the most trustworthy of people, nor are their associates, neither do they normally work in the safest parts of town- cos he didn't want his wife to think he was a pervert. I guess I can come off all self righteous and appalled cos I never had to worry about that kind of thing, Loretta having known I was a pervert long before we were married. Fortunately, so was she.

I wasn't trying to be cruel, but my beery blood was up-

B: So what does Jill think of you now?
S: She thinks I'm a pervert.
B: EXACTLY. I'm sorry, man, I'm not trying to be hateful, but you're a fucking idiot.
S: I know.

And if I hadn't already thought Jack was an idiot- a very nice guy, but an idiot- he would've confirmed it by later asking me for advice, not on how to save his marriage, which is just as well, considering, but on how to get Jill to do that thing he was getting from prostitutes.

B: First you've got to get her to let your ass back in the bedroom. I'm not sure I can help you with that part. But, once you're back in- not right away, dammit, wait a bit- but once you're back in, then ask her if she'll do it.
S: I don't want her to-
B: She ALREADY thinks you're a pervert, goddammit. The hard part's already over.
S: Oh yeah.
B: So you just- you've never ever asked her to? Not one time?
S: No.
B: You are fucking killing me. Okay, so you ask her. If she says yes, then happy day, knock yourself out. If she says no-
S: She's gonna say no.
B: Don't think like that. But if she does say no- here's my philosophy on that.
S: Oh dear.
B: I'll condense it. This thing you're wanting to do with Jill. You do love her, right?
J: Absolutely.
B: Okay, then, this thing you're wanting to do. First, it's just one facet of a very large and wonderful jewel called sex with the woman you love, and if for some reason you can't have that facet, there's a whole fucking lot of other ones on that wonderful jewel, and every single one of them shines so brightly, go for one of them. What you don't do is go looking for another jewel that might let you see that facet that Jill won't let you see. You understand what I'm saying here?
S: Not really . . .
B: Well, I'm going to pretend like you do. Second, have you ever heard of the word patience? Just because that facet may not be available immediately, doesn't mean it may not be some day. Have you ever heard of the word seduction? Have you ever heard of the words, just wearing her the hell down? Working for it could make it even sweeter in the long run. Son, it took me five years to talk Loretta into doing- something- and when we finally did . . . sweet Jesus. If you really want it, keep trying, all the hell she can do is say no. You fucking pervert. Now do you understand?
S: I should buy her some jewelry?
B; Exactly. But first, buy me another beer.

If I'd been on top of my game I'd have suggested a pearl necklace for that first piece of jewelry, but I wasn't, so I didn't. And like I said, I'd like to tell you how it turned out for Jack and Jill, cos I often wonder myself- well, not often, but when I do think about them I wonder- but it was still not good at home for Jack when Abraxas shut down and I lost track of them. I'd have to say my gut feeling is that things never ever got right again between them, cos it was going on a year and Jack was still sleeping in the other bedroom and from what I was hearing, forgiveness was still nowhere in sight. Though that doesn't necessarily mean I think they split up, I've known more than one couple to live together for many years in mutual unhappiness.

I only saw Jill one time after the shit hit the fan, I was leaving once as she was coming on the grounds and she gave me such an undeserved shitty look I was moved to holler, "Hey, I didn't have fucking anything to do with it!" which was exactly the wrong thing to say, as Jack told me later it only confirmed in her little mind that I indeed did have something to do with it, but he also said she had already decided that all the male staff there were just a bunch of shitting whore mongers who all covered for one another. What I should have yelled was "I'm the one who told him to buy you jewelry, dammit!", but I wasn't on top of my game that day either, I guess.

Upon further reflection, there really wasn't a diversity of opinion in the two comments that started this, they both think I fucked up, they just disagree as to how. And there's a third guy I know who uses prostitutes, that fucker Robby, but I'm tired of talking about it, lets move on.

Staying with correspondence, a reader asked me what gin blossoms are. At least I got no smart comments referencing the band, who were overrated but had a couple good songs, and one really good one in "Hey Jealousy", the writer of which was kicked out of the band for alcoholism, and soon after killed himself, and since he was the only guy in the band with any talent, they soon went down the tubes, pretty sorry story for all concerned. The gin blossoms I'm talking about are these big red lumps that come up under the skin on your face, and not only are they hideous, they get really sore and hurt like shit. You get them from drinking way too much for way too long, and if you're not careful and instead keep drinking after they've cropped up they can like fucking explode and become permanent, and you sure as fuck don't want that. Or I don't anyway.

For more in the breaking down of Bill, I've fucked my knee up again. I wish I could tell you it happened in some dramatic fashion, like rescuing someone from, I don't know, something, but instead, I did it working out. I can't even say I did it by lifting amazing amounts of dead weights, superhuman amounts, even, though I will admit I was tempted. No, I was just doing the aerobic step the other day, when there was this big pop, actually it sounded more like a snap, from my already fucked left knee, and it felt like someone had shoved a knife up under the knee cap. For fuck's sake. The damn thing was all swollen, I've been keeping it iced, but I'll be damned if I can figure what I did to it.

The swelling's gone down but the knee is still popping to beat hell- I have no idea what's making all the noise, there's no cartilage left in there, the thought that it's bone on bone kind of sets my teeth on edge. Whatever it is, it's loud, I squatted down at Borders yesterday to check out some magazines on the bottom rack, when I stood up my knee popped so loudly this Nam vet down the aisle threw himself face down on the floor screaming "Incoming!"

There were a couple young hipsters in Borders while I was there, Marshall students I'd hazard, who were talking to one another in this semi-beat patter that had me in total stitches. I was laughing out loud, I couldn't help it, one of 'em looks at me and says "Don't be cruel to a cat that's cool". No man, never.

I was going to say I've gotta get my knee rehabbed, cos my future dance card is looking pretty damn full, but I don't think it's going to be a problem. It's hurting right now no matter what I do, resting or not, I got back on the step today and it didn't hurt any more than when I was sitting earlier and watching Lucha Libre, it hurts me when I step up and it hurts me when I back off, it hurts me when I lay down and it hurts me when I- you get the picture. So it should be cool for dancing.

First up, I'm going to renowned WV filmmaker Danny Boyd's wedding on the 30th. He's been coming over to XMCW training lately, and he and I have just hit it off like gangbusters. I'd heard he was this ego'd up snot, but in my experience nothing could be further from the truth, I've found him to be very personable and easy going, just a hell of a nice guy. He's also a Death Falcon fan, and that certainly doesn't hurt. Allen and Sarah, I mean X and Pampered Booty, are going to the wedding and reception as well, I've already told Booty she's on my dance card for the reception, and I'm going to dance that pampered little booty of hers right off. I'd say her response could best be described as apprehensive.

Can't shoot my entire load at the reception, however, cos after that is Joe and Laura's Halloween party, and there's plenty of dancing to be done there- I hope, you guys need to set up a dancing room, maybe out in the garage, the stereo's already out there- and then afterward as well. There's only one problem, I've already had a couple requests to appear in the Death Falcon mask, and that's not meeting with the approval of one DFZ.

(MY MASK IS NOT A GODDAMN HALLOWEEN COSTUME).

I know that. You were very gracious to let me wear it last year- and I'm positive your mask was a big reason why I got lucky in the bathroom at one of the parties I went to before Joe and Laura's last year- and-

(AND ONCE WAS ENOUGH. LIKE I SAID, I'M NOT A DAMN HALLOWEEN COSTUME, LIKE FUCKING MICKEY MOUSE OR SOMETHING. IN FACT, WHY DON'T YOU DO THAT, WHY DON'T YOU GO AS MICKEY MOUSE? THAT'D BE APPROPRIATE).

Because I don't want to go as Mickey Mouse, thank you. And I don't want to disappoint those who've asked to see the mask this year, so how about this. How about you go to Joe and Laura's party instead of me?

(ME? GO TO JOE AND LAURA'S PARTY?).

Sure. Just behave yourself.

(BEHAVE MYSELF YOUR SWEET ASS. LOOK THE FUCK OUT. I'M THERE).

Whew. Okay, those of you planning on attending Joe and Laura's party, you've been warned. I hope I don't regret this.

(THE EXPLODER IS MY FAVORITE DANCE STEP).

Like I said. You've been warned.

As for the wasp saga, not much new to report. That damn nest continues to grow, it's both Gotham City and Metropolis at this point, has a bunch of wasps in little capes flying all around it now. I got that wasp spray from Joe, me and my Dad saturated the nest with it to little to no effect, I had pretty much figured at this point we were dealing with the wasps from hell, but now Joe thinks that what was in the sprayer he loaned me may have in fact been weed killer. I sure as fuck hope not, I'd truly prefer the wasps from hell theory, cos that nest is right over my Dad's big flower bed, and if we weed killed all his flowers thinking it was wasp spray, I'm gonna have to fucking leave town, seriously. Got some for sure wasp spray from Joe earlier tonight, I guess we'll take another crack at the nest later this week. I'm starting to think my Dad had the right idea when he wanted to use fire.

What's Bill been drinking? Ha, thought you'd catch me, huh? Just green tea, and plenty of it. Drinking some right at this moment, I do find it relaxing, but it doesn't really help me sleep. Coming off a big drinking binge like we've been on the past couple months, my sleep cycle is always even more fucked up than usual. Not much sleep this week, when I do start drifting off is about the time Al is waking his manic ass up, been sleeping some in the afternoons, finally got some good sleep this weekend, went to bed at 9 pm last night, slept straight through until 10 this morning.

Been having some horrible dreams of late, in them the girls are little again, I guess it's about 12 or so years ago, when they both had their little pixie hairdo's, and were just about the two cutest little girls that ever lived. I had one last night, the three of us were just sitting around Dairy Queen eating ice cream, and when I woke up from it, if I weren't in a one story dwelling, I swear I'd have just thrown myself out the fucking window. I'd rather have ten thousand dreams about being shredded by sharks, or raptors or whatever, than one fucking dream that things are still okay.

Rachel went to a dance at her high school this Saturday- sweet Jesus, Rachel WENT TO A DANCE AT HER HIGH SCHOOL THIS SATURDAY- and she looked very lovely, Sarah sent me some pictures of Rachie and her date- sweet Jesus, HER DATE- and I'm sending them to Joe so he can include them on the site. It pains me that I wasn't there to give the young man my "respect or death" speech, but what can you do? Fucking live with it, I guess. Or don't.

What's Bill been watching? Saw "Ladykillers" down at Joe and Laura's sometime since the last newsletter, I was under the impression it was a comedy, but if so, it sure as fuck wasn't very funny, in fact, it wasn't much of anything, I didn't really care for it. Watched "Blood From The Mummy's Tomb" late the other night down at Al's, it wasn't too good, another one of those Egyptian princesses reincarnated in modern times deals, but I watched the whole thing anyway cos the princess was Valerie Leon, who was hot as shit. Very sensual face, with the full lips and big, heavy lidded dark eyes, built like an Egyptian brick, buxom as hell, find a good picture of her Joe and stick it on the site, okay?

Going fishing in the morning, or rather, later this morning, with my ex-brother in law, David. I'm not really sleepy but I probably should get to bed and try to get some rest, so I don't fall asleep by the side of the river tomorrow and maybe fall in or something.

People keep saying they don't wanna know
But when I start to leave, they all wanna go

Later

Bill