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4/12/05 It's My Life This is a hard world to get a break in Hey Hope everyone's had a good couple weeks since the last one of these. Maybe everyone's just all stirred up cos Spring is here, or maybe it's the scintillating, diamond sharp writing, but the response to the various Prague adventures was immense, and quite varied as well. It ranged from people saying that I'm their fucking hero (including a couple females, hey sweeties, SM Girl, send me a photo) to people saying I'm sick (no, really, I feel fine), to people saying I make THEM sick (what do you say to that? Sorry? Cos I'm not, really) although the advice to boil my willy in antiseptic was pretty funny. I also got compared again to the recently departed Hunter S. (back at ya, Dick, you need to get down here real soon so we can drink beer and bump chests like old times, I miss ya), as well as a couple comparisons not so nice, including being called "a past it Lothario bragging about banging these young chicks". Past it? I don't know, maybe, depends on what "it" is, doesn't it? Bragging? I was just reporting (you jealous fuck). Lothario? Only guy I know by that name is Jose Lothario, pretty decent Tex-Mex wrestler back in the 70's, but certainly not my idol, the Funks used to bounce his ass like a basketball. Young chicks? Depends on your perspective, I guess. Anyway, to everyone who enjoyed the Prague stuff, and to everyone who didn't, I dedicate this issue's title, and especially the following lines. It's my life, and I'll do what I want So there. The girls were in for their Spring break the last week of March, we had another wonderful week that seemed like it lasted all of twenty minutes, I swear it seems like I've just picked them up, before I'm turning around and taking them back. I have one of Sarah's senior pictures I'm gonna scan so Joe can put it in here- no, I can't believe she's growing up either, Jesus help me, I just took her to kindergarten for her first day of school last week, honest to God, where does the time fucking GO? If Rachie ever gets me one of her school pics, I'll include it as well. They're both such dear, sweet children, and their Daddy is very proud of both of them. I miss them so much. Once again we did about a third of the things we wanted to, but they did manage a Girls Night Out (they felt very grown up running around with Anita and Impetuous, that was cool, thanks guys, thanks to Laura as well) that they seemed to enjoy immensely, as well as a Movie Club up at Chris' house the Friday they were in. We also had our movie night here at the house, so a lot of movie reviews here later on. I also had that talk with Loretta I said I was going to, that Saturday that she brought the girls in. I simply told her I was sorry for all the bad shit I had done while we were married- because I am- and that I forgave her for all the bad shit she had done, both admitted to and still denied, whatever- because I do- and I was willing to try and get along from here on out, if she was. It was pretty fucking amazing, Loretta dropped to her knees in front of me, begging me to take her back, tugging at my zipper with one hand, while throwing money at my feet with the other, and . . . say what? You're not buying that? Good for you. It still went better than I expected, Loretta didn't exactly apologize to me- one of her biggest flaws, even when I loved her, was being able to admit to doing something wrong, it's just not in her and never has been, you can ask her family- but she wasn't all pissy like I half expected, she agreed it was time to let the past be the past, and also agreed to quit hating me, which, you know, was damn big of her. This decision may already be paying off in a real way, above and beyond the fucking weight that's off my heart, Loretta was almost sickeningly nice when I met her to drop off the girls- goddamn, I didn't say I wanted to be friends, I don't fucking LIKE you, I just didn't want to be enemies anymore- but she did offer to try and bring them in again in May, which was something she'd previously said she wasn't going to do. That would be nice. And I don't say this in a mean way, although I'm sure some may take it that way and say, "See, he hasn't changed a damn bit!", but Loretta continues to go to hell, physically. She looks terrible, fat and old and unhealthy, she looks like she's aged ten years in the past two, she even brought it up herself, saying she was just too tired and stressed all the time to take care of herself anymore. Yeah, well, I may have forgiven you, but don't look to me for any sympathy there, you chose that fucking life- at the cost of ours, and my fucking heart. Which is pretty much what I told her, but she took it well, considering. Show me I'm wrong, hurt me sometime Other than entertaining the girls, what else has Bill been up to? Well, I left out of here Sunday before last, and right before that turn where I rolled the Saturn there's this van off the road and partially on it's side, with a guy still sitting in it. I stop to see what I can do for him, it's this guy who lives in one of those trailers right up the road from there, he's drinking a Beast and is already lit as hell, he and his wife were fighting about his being drunk and they ran off the road. I'm looking around for the wife, he says she's already walked up to the trailer. I felt for the guy, I mean someone already drunk at noon on Sunday and fighting with his wife about it is surely a kindred soul, but there really wasn't anything I could do for him but listen to him wail about it for a little while, which I did, I even drank a damn lukewarm Beast with him, shit, what I'm willing to do for my fellow man. He and his van were gone when I came back through that night, I hope things work out for him, he seemed like a nice guy. Sort of reminded me of someone I used to know . . . I went to a Wrestlemania party at (wannabe) DF Sean's house that night, it's been a couple years since I've actually been over at his house, the pay per view was okay, and it was nice to see Tony and Jay again, Tony looks more and more like Gary Busey every time I see him, and is just about as nuts, he's fucking hilarious. However, Sean is back on the beer, and we had some words about it. Far be it from me to lecture someone on his drinking, but as you long time readers surely remember, a little over a year ago Sean almost lost everything- his cushy Post Office job, and more importantly his family- over his constant state of drunkenness, and had quite wisely quit and gone into rehab. He was about six months dry when I last saw him, last summer, and I was quite appalled to walk in there Sunday to see him working away on a case of Coors Light just like the old days. Don't know what happened, didn't ask, but I see trouble again coming for our boy Sean, sure as shit. He offered me one- I probably wouldn't have taken it anyway, I don't consider chicken piss Coors Light to be beer, anyway- but I had to be me and make a big point out of how I wouldn't drink with him. S: Why not? It got a little tense, but I ended up staying. Only to piss him off again later when he wanted to start training again, and I told him no. S: Why not? This didn't go over too well either, but you know what, I don't care. Sean went from a karate weight of about 240, up to a big fat drunk weight of 330 last spring, down to about 300 when he was attending the FBBFWS last summer. He weighs about 336 now by his own admission, and fucking forget it. I told him, lose some damn weight and we'll talk, otherwise leave me the fuck alone you goddamn lard ass drunk. Sean was kind of pissed at me when I left (jeez, whatever for?), gave me this sarcastic "Yeah, real good to see you again" and a sincere "don't hurry back" and I figured that was that, fuck him, but I got an e-mail from him a couple days later, he and Mary had talked after I left, she said I was showing him "tough love"- whatever, if that's what you want to call it, mostly he was just pissing me off- and he wasn't mad anymore. Good. I told him quit drinking and lose 70 pounds and we'd talk about re-upping him in the FBBFWS- which is starting up again, with new pupil one Danny Boyd, oh boy, he doesn't have a CLUE. Speaking of Sir Boyd, I went down to the Cabell-Huntington Health Department last Wednesday and got my ass all shot up for our trip to Tanzania, I'm now immune to yellow fever, hepatitis A and B, and typhoid. Of course, I think I always was, but now it's official. The hep shots were fine- the typhoid meds are oral- but the nurse warned me that the yellow fever shot could be "sting-ey". B: "Sting-ey"? Lady, you're talking to a man who regularly
sticks razor and Exacto knife blades in his- OOOOOW! Damn. Jesus. So, I warn you ahead of time, if you ever have to get a yellow fever shot, it's gonna be sting-ey. I was talking to Ritchie that night in class, I've got to get a picture of him to put in here, he's a sweet, sweet guy, looks all Rasta with his dreads, talks like that as well (and always reeks of pot), we were talking about me going to Tanzania, where he's from, and he starts telling me to avoid any real zombies over there. Ritchie- a very bright man- not only believes in zombies as a very real thing, but swears he's seen one, he was telling me this really fascinating story when Danny interrupted. This is the voodoo/black magic type zombie, not the cannibalistic Romero kind, but it's still the walking dead. Ritchie was real adamant in warning me to stay away from them, and from the genuinely bad guys who make them, I'm like, "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" R: Cos you impress me as mon who like to mess wit' what he shouldn't. You got me there, Ritch. But fucking hell, a real zombie, are you KIDDING ME? I gotta check that shit out. In the middle of class some lady comes in and invites us all to see some photographers exhibit set up a few rooms down, they've got tons of catered food- and I'm all about free grub right now, finances being what they are- so that was cool, I got a big plate of some pasta stuff, and another big plate of some kind of stir fry, good stuff, I also stuffed a bunch of cookies, and rolls that I crammed lunch meat in, in my pockets, had a bunch of carrot and celery sticks poking up out of my shirt pocket, but then we had to listen to Mister Photographer Man, who was real impressed with himself and what a do gooder he was cos he went all over the world taking pictures of all these poor people so the world will be more aware of their plight, I said to one of my lesbian friends, "Fuck taking their pictures, give 'em a sandwich or something" which got a laugh out of her, and a big "Shush!" from some artsy- fartsy lady there. Shush your own damn self, bitch. Then MPM wants to hand out all these green threads for people to wear around their wrists, to remind them to "do one good thing for the earth, every day" the artsy- fartsy crowd eat that up, oh how clever and sensitive, I'm thinking, "Oh please", everything would've been fine but I went over to get some more Diet Coke, and maybe see about stuffing a couple olives up my nose to take out and eat later, when MPM comes over and tries to put one of those green threads around my wrist. B: Thanks anyway, but that's a little too fucking gay for me. MPM goes away, miffed. A minute later Danny comes up to me. D: What'd you say to that guy, anyway? And I'm sure I'm gonna catch some hell from my little social activist Sarah, but once again, I DON'T CARE, sometimes gay as a pejorative is the only right word, and those green threads were fucking gay as fuck. I'm gonna ride that serpent And sweating it I am, well, actually, I'm not sweating it at all, I just don't have it, and haven't paid it yet for this month. But I will. Probably. This living beyond my means recently has- nah, fuck it, it's been fun, damn fun, and I'm gonna keep doing it. Do they still have debtor's prison? A couple readers asked if I tried absinthe in Prague, since I forgot to mention whether I finally got around to it in the voluminous "Scourge of etc", yeah, I did, a lot of the students liked to drink the Prague version of B-52's, Kahlua, Bailey's, and absinthe on top, you light the absinthe, stick a plastic straw (which invariably catches fire) to the bottom of the glass and suck it up from the bottom as fast as you can, pretty nasty, although I never turned down any of the about a million free ones I was offered, but one night when they were lining up B-52's I asked for straight absinthe instead, ended up drinking 3 shots of it, I don't see the big deal, it has a nasty ouzo-ish taste to it I don't care for, which is hard to wash out of your mouth even with beer, I guess I didn't drink enough of it to get the trippy buzz you're supposed to. If you're over there, you should definitely try it to see if you like it, and also just cos it's always cool to try new things, but I can't imagine anyone really liking it. Doug brought some back, I might see if I can get a few shots of it off of him, if any of you are real anxious to try it. There will be women and their fortunes What's Bill drinking? Just green tea, children. After Prague, my liver needed a break- not that I've been abstaining since I got back, just easing off some. But I've got (another) busy week this week, and I don't really have a day to waste hung over. What's Bill been listening to? Some Pat Matheny that Anita loaned me. It's not good car music, it almost put me to sleep one morning last week when I was driving home from Al's, but it is real good magazine and book reading (and newsletter writing) music. It's not boring, at all, that's not what I'm saying, it's more soothing, I actually like it, when I wasn't all that sure I would. What's Bill been reading? Finally got around to that Gene Vincent biography I bought a while back. Man. Just like I think I'd have a lot of fun hanging with all those old country guys- Johnny Cash and Waylon and Merle and that crazy ass, hard living bunch, so I feel about all those early rock and rollers. I read biographies of Jerry Lee Lewis, or Little Richard (pre and post finding God) or Eddie Cochran or now, Gene Vincent, and I go, "I know that guy. I KNOW him". And I'm continually struck by how polite even the craziest of them were, part of it was the time they were brought up in, and part of it, I'm sure, was their Southern-ness- I once read somewhere, a real Southern man will continue to be polite to you right up until the time you've made him so mad he kills you, which is both funny and true- but I'm always tickled at the incongruity of genuine wild men like Gene or Jerry Lee being of the "Yes sir, no ma'am" school. Just like me, I'm all about the damn manners, seriously. And while I still maintain Eddie Cochran is the coolest man ever in rock and roll, I think Gene runs him a close second. Not just on stuff like "Be-Bop-a Lula", a great song (and I don't mean maybe) and "Woman Love" (oh yeah) and "Race With The Devil", but on sheer damn attitude. I knew he had a bad leg from a motorcycle wreck, but I thought it was one of those 50's medicine type deals, where it just didn't heal right cos that's how old medical care sometimes went. It didn't heal because he wouldn't let it. Night after night old Gene gets up and abuses his leg performing, so that for ten years- TEN fucking years- the bone stays broken, and the wound stays open, cos this possessed bastard can't stay off of the stage, and can't keep himself from going crazy once he's up there (they said at the end the bone had so atrophied the entire leg would bend just like rubber). My fucking hero, Jesus. He also died from a gastrointestinal hemorrhage brought on by cirrhosis at the very tender age of thirty six. God love your damn heart, Gene. The Brits just revere his ass to this damn day, and well they should. Watched a lot of movies the week the girls were in, starting with Napoleon Dynamite, pretty good, I guess, but I recommend you not watch it with anyone who's already seen it, or else, like me, you'll think every other line in the movie is "Oh, this is a funny part". Say what? Also watched From Hell, it was good, I'd recommend it, Johnny Depp is usually a good bet in most anything, and The Ring, okay, some pretty effective scares, but overall I was sort of like "I don't get it", let someone else rent it and then you watch it, don't spend your own money, of course, I'm so behind the times everyone has probably seen it already, watched some piece of mess called The Gristle down at Joe's while the girls were doing their GNO, it was fucking horrible, some guy trying to do an Elmore Leonard style witty crime movie and failing miserably, probably the worst movie I've seen in a long time, and proof positive that Michael Dorn didn't save any of his Star Trek money. Also watched Shaun Of The Dead later that night, it was good. No Zatoichi at Movie Club for once, Chris and the girls and I- none of us being encumbered with employment- watched the 3 1/2 hour extended version of Return Of The King that afternoon, then watched the remake of Dawn Of The Dead after Debbie and Ron- but not free beer swilling and other girl dancing with Anita- showed up. I was disappointed in DOTD, I'd heard good things about it, I liked how it didn't waste a lot of time getting things going, but I think it tried to go too fast, heroine goes to bed everything's cool, she wakes up and zombies rule the world- too fast, man. Although I can sympathize, I feel like that happened to me as well. And speaking of too fast, what's with this zombies running shit? The Japanese have been doing it in their zombie movies for ages (like Wild Zero, that'd be a good Movie Club selection if someone could find it) but I don't like it, you'd think it'd make them scarier, but for me it had just the opposite effect, it just made them seem like crazy people- which don't scare me in the fucking slightest, I'll go toe to toe crazy with any damn one- and less like supernaturally animated corpses that want to eat your ass, which I think are pretty damn scary. DOTD also, unlike the original, had your typical modern downbeat ending, which was okay, but predictable. Chris brought me back some kind of rice liquor from Okinawa, I can't remember what it's called now, it's not sake, comes in a beautiful bottle, and supposedly, if you drink a glass of this every day, you'll live to be a hundred. Wonder what happens if you drink a whole bottle at once, one time? And while I'm thinking about it, I'm gonna bust Charlie in print, that was not cool you drinking all the Staropromen I brought down there so that no one else, especially your Dad, got to try any. Your Dad owes you a good hard slap to the back of the head. Let me know if he doesn’t give you one, cos I know someone who will. I ain't no saint In non-saint news, the Death Falcon worked again last Saturday in Nitro, since Allen ADD Lynch had once again over booked, the DF agreed to drop his match with the Unholy and just work him in the Battle Royal (which I hate). Since we weren't going on till late, and I was in a pretty vile mood, I once again broke another one of my cardinal rules- whoever said rules were made to be broken must've been talking about me, I swear- and went down to Nitro Billiards with the Unholy and Falconette Anita for a couple pre- Battle Royal beers. Since Anita was already in her Falconette gear, that was pretty interesting. I had a surprisingly nice time, some pleasant conversation among the three of us, FA's always good company but I'd never really gotten to know Penny (Unholy) before, I thought he was a nice enough guy but our previous matches had been pretty lackluster, I should've gone out for beers with him a long time ago. We were talking about our Last Man Standing match at the big Anniversary show the 23rd, he was all about "I'll bleed buckets for ya, brother". Well, there you go- no greater love has one man for another than to bleed buckets for him in a Last Man Standing match. The Battle Royal turned out a lot better than I expected, Falconette Anita got quite involved in the action, which I know she enjoyed (she also looked really damn hot, Susan got some great pics of her that she's supposed to be sending me for inclusion on the site), although I think Unholy was liking being kicked by those high heeled boots of hers just a little too much. "Kick me again! AGAIN!" Uh, yeah. Leave your twenty on the night stand. Finally did a table spot, got Unholy up on the ramp and after some dicking around, gave him a Russian (why's it called Russian? I have no idea, particularly since I've never seen any alleged Russian even use this move) Leg Sweep off of it, and through a table that FA (the Vanna White of Wrestling) kindly helped me set up. The problem with a Russian Leg Sweep is that even though you're the one hooking the other guy's neck and ankle, it hurts the person giving it as much as it does the guy taking it. Which is no big deal in the ring, but becomes a much bigger deal when you're throwing yourself off of a four foot high ramp and through a table- which did absolutely NOTHING to break our fall by the way, who's fucking idea WAS this?- so basically what we did was throw ourselves backward off the ramp and flat onto the floor. Why? Cos that's entertainment, that's why. I was so fucking sore yesterday it wasn't the least bit funny. Not feeling a whole lot better today. The back of my head hurts, my neck hurts, my back hurts, my shoulder's cracking and popping again like it hasn't done in months, good going there, Einstein, I got a BIG old bruise across my butt, right at the tailbone where the edge of the table caught me, I actually thought about including a photo of it, but I catch enough shit in here already for that kind of stuff. Still, I'm not the only one feeling bad. Paybacks are always a bitch. There's this punk ass kid, Jeff- well, fuck, he's like 25, he's not really a kid- who came into XMCW with Danny, through the documentary they were making, which he's since been kicked off of cos he won't do his damn work, who's been fucking with Danny a lot at training lately, and causing lots of heat between Danny and Allen and Sarah, which I don't need, cos I've been called upon to be the peacemaker, and that doesn't really come naturally to me. So, I'm wading through the ring there at one point in the BR, bodies flying all around me, and who happens to be there with his back to me but our boy Jeff. I threw a legit kick right into his damn kidney, if he doesn't have an imprint of a size 11 boot on his back right now I'll kiss your ass, he went down on his face and stayed there, he came crying to me about it after the show, what can I say, "Sorry, man, it's these damn crazy boots, they're out of control". But if you want out of control wait until the 23rd, you won't fucking believe the spot we've got planned (not to mention Unholy's vow to bleed buckets). And Falconette Anita will be back with her high heeled leather boots. You don't want to miss that (God knows Unholy doesn't). It starting to feel late, I'm gonna go. Love you too. It's my life, and I'll do what I want And someday I will. Later Bill
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