6/9/05

Pomp And Circumstance

Though we leave in sorrow 
All the joys we've known 
We can face tomorrow 
Knowing we'll never walk alone

Hey

Back from my weekend in Baltimore (I'm a travelin' man, made a lot of stops . .) and since a lot of people have written asking how it went, I'm just going to go ahead and address it in a newsletter, along with all the other exciting shit that makes up Bill's life.

Of course, I should've started on this and THEN started drinking, as opposed to the other way around, but what the fuck. If this starts to crash and burn near the end, so be it. (I started this last night, but passed out before I could finish it, so I'm finishing it now. So if some of the tenses in here seem weird, so it goes).

So- I guess this trip to Baltimore generated so much interest cos I sent out a bunch of e-mails before leaving basically saying I had some genuine concerns that things were not going to go well. Part of it may have been due to my Dad- my parents were supposed to come with me- who was making noises all last week about not going, how he just couldn't stand the fucking sight of Loretta and there was no way he could make nice- no matter how I feel about her, pro or con, I'm certain my parents are never going to forgive Loretta for the fucking around that she did, especially my Dad, he really seems to take it personally for some reason, "I thought so much better of that girl!", yeah, well fuck, you know what, we all did Dad, but what are you gonna do about it now?

Anyway, he was pissing the tee-total shit out of me over it, it's not about you, old man, it's about Sarah, we had a BIG ass fight about it last Wednesday and I finally had to threaten him with absolute excommunication (and a chair shot) before he finally agreed to come along and behave his damn self- I didn't give a flying fuck if he came or not, but I knew Sarah wanted him there- then the damn nut makes the point moot by getting hurt the next day in a bizarre picnicing accident- he turned one of those big picnic tables over on himself up at Coonskin, don't ask, but he cracked his sternum and some ribs and there was no way he could make the trip like that. Thank you, Jeevis, cos I'm sure he'd have made a damn scene if he had gone to Baltimore.

My Mom still came with me, to talk her relentless mumble fuck crazy talk at me in the car for six hours straight, coming and going, so at the end of each drive I felt like someone had been hitting me upside the head with a ten pound sack of soggy sugar all damn day.

I was having very bad vibes about the trip myself, unrelated to my Dad's bullshit, I just did not want to go there AT ALL, not the graduation ceremony, and sure as shit not the party at Loretta and Paul's. I wasn’t at all sure how I'd react seeing the two of them sitting together when it should've been me and Loretta sitting together at our daughter's graduation, or going to the home they now share, it all just seems so fucking WRONG, dammit. Wrong.

However, it would take a lot more than bad vibes (and overturned picnic tables, and 10,000 fucking zombie warriors) to keep me (AND ME) away from Sarah's high school graduation (swear to Christ it seems like mere DAYS ago I was sitting next to that skinny little child with the big glasses in the Rock Branch Elementary School cafeteria her first day of kindergarten, while she ate her first school breakfast and told me "I yike Super Doughnuts"), so I went, and to cut to the chase, it went, if not great, certainly okay.

I guess the biggest reason up front why it went okay is cos I didn't feel the slightest bit of sexual attraction for Loretta, therefore no jealousy in that regard (and if I'm a shallow motherfucker to bring that up at the start, I DON'T CARE), and if you're tired of me going on about how her pretty face has gone to hell, skip over the next few paragraphs.

As I've mentioned before, Loretta's let her hair go it's (mostly) natural gray, the weight gain has got her face all puffed and jowly, even with that straining bra ratcheted to it's tightest setting, that big bosom she was always so damn proud of (with good reason, at one time) is riding pretty low these days, and though she wore baggy skirts to both the graduation and cookout to conceal it as much as possible, she's getting this BIG wide ass on her, and these thick thighs- uh uh, man, I just looked at her and thought, "No goddamn way, Jose, I wouldn't fuck that with Paul's dick, not on a fucking dare." And I wouldn't either.

(WHO YOU TRYING TO CONVINCE? THEM OR YOU?)

You were there, big man. You saw what I saw.

(YEAH, BUT I'VE HATED HER SINCE THE DAY I FUCKING WAS BORN).

Good point.

(STILL DO HATE HER, BY THE WAY).

We can't be having that. We've got to be together on this one.

(FUCK THAT. I'VE ALWAYS GOTTEN THE FEELING THAT SHE LOOKS DOWN ON ME).

LOOKS down on you? Wants to go down on you, is more like. I have it on good authority that when she thinks no one is around, she goes into Rachel's room where there's that big poster of you, and licks your chest.

(REALLY?)

Straight up.

(WHOA. OKAY, THEN. SHE AND I ARE COOL, AS LONG AS YOU AND HER ARE COOL).

That's all I ask.

It's not just her looks though, (to get back to where we we were) I've known (and know) plenty of women who weren't, and aren't, classic beauties, who were/are just dead sexy as hell. It was Loretta's whole dull, conservative air of total mundanity and blandness that was so unattractive, we talked a couple times, just the two of us, at both the graduation and the cook out- and quite civilly, I must say- and I looked deep into her baggy, wrinkle obscured eyes and the Loretta I'd known and loved was nowhere inside, these eyes were flat as fuck, the eyes of a cow, or some damn wore to the bone wage slave/drone, there was none of the gleam I'd loved in them left at all. Scary, and no little heartbreaking.

But sure as fuck a weight off of my soul. Because I was finally able to realize and accept, after four years (almost to the day, Loretta told me she was divorcing me on a June 3, the same date as Sarah's graduation) no one else has my baby, my darling, my heart, my dear and sweet true love, she's not living in Baltimore with some other guy, she's well and truly gone, forever, and I have no reason to CARE anymore. At all.

Closure is a trendy, horribly over used word, but I think I got it this weekend.

I felt very detached this whole weekend, it was very strange, I went up there expecting all these passionate feelings and experienced nothing of the sort, I felt very much the outsider the whole time I was in Baltimore, not unwelcome, just very much not a part of things. I especially noticed it at the cookout where I was hanging out with Loretta's mom and sisters, and I realized I didn't feel a thing for them at all, no hard feelings, certainly, but no close feelings either, it was like being with people I'd just met, not people I'd considered family for most of my life. It felt very weird. And again, pretty sad.

One thing is for certain, I felt very proud of my girl Sarah. Even though she started high school under a cloud, with her Mom and I splitting up the summer before her 9th grade year, then with the move to Baltimore halfway through high school, and the harder curriculum she ran into up there, Sarah still came in in the top ten percent of her (enormous, almost 400 kids, it took them almost an hour just to hand out diplomas) graduating class. Daddy is very proud of his girl. Very proud.

I'm also proud of Rachie for being just about the damned funniest kid I've ever known. Jesus Christ, she kept me in stitches (without trying) the whole time I was there, her and her band of Simpson's bad kids, just don't take it to heart baby, it's only funny if you KNOW it’s funny, don't get bitter.

I got to meet one of Sarah's teachers, Miss Hubbard, at both the interminable graduation ceremony and the cook out (and how was the house? Nice. Worth selling your soul and wrecking your health for? Not to me . . . ) who's apparently a big fan of the NL, very cool, she was smart and cute (and obviously has good taste), but not single, damn, here's a shout out to you anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you.

And now on to other things.

A lot of people have speculated on what D F Zed was saying there at the end of the last newsletter, and every damn one of you thought it was something vulgar. Shame on you.

The quote is from the closing (Africa) scene, where the DF is trying to comfort his two young "nieces", Wande, age 5, and Rebecca, age 10, who are upset that he's once again leaving them. I had to simplify the language a bit so Hamsa could translate it into K'Swahili, but I was still able in one line to rather cheekily work in a quote from your boy Jesus. What DFZ says to the kids is-

"I am with you always. I fly above you as you sleep. I watch over you. I talk to you in your dreams. Will you listen?"

So there.

I got a writing job this week, through Curtis (who is LONG gone as director on the DF movie, I had his ass pegged months ago as do less- I don't give a fuck what vice you use to occupy your time, drink or drugs or women or gambling, just have your shit ready when it needs to be ready, which I have ALWAYS done since starting this movie stuff, Danny held me up as an example (a good one) to Curtis, and I'm proud to pass it along, "When Bill says he's gonna give me 20 pages, he always gives me 20 pages. He may give it to me DRUNK (no shit), but he gives it to me. And it's GOOD".)

Anyway, Curtis, before we fell out, recommended me to this guy at State who's wanting to shoot a short film this summer, but who's not happy with the dialogue in his script, who called me asking me if I'd rewrite the dialogue for him. Of course I will. He asked how much I'd charge, he said the script was 37 pages so I said "$37" off the top of my head, a buck a page, he gave me $40 (up front) and that was cool.

Except this script is a fucking mess. These characters are idiots, I couldn't figure out how to fix it, so I called the guy (Travis) when I got in from Al's this (that would now be yesterday) afternoon (more about him later) and told him (and I realize this is treading close to "What is my motivation?" territory) "I can make these people sound like me, but I can't make them sound like THEM unless we talk some more, can I come over to your place and discuss it?"

He was worried about the additional cost, I told him it would be in beer, which is why I'm in the shape I'm in right now, but I think we got things worked out this afternoon, in fact I finished his script revisions before I started this NL, sent them to him, and he's already gotten back to me telling me he loves them. So GOOD FOR FUCKING ME.

Goddamn me for a piece of shit, but I can write.

And wrestle.

DFZ is so busy this summer it isn't funny. I (he's) got a punishing stretch later this month of five matches in ten days (Thursday, Saturday, Monday, Thursday, Saturday) including two in Mount Hope, and the two in Martinsburg, one of which is the barbed wire match with the massive Headshrinker Samu, which is gonna be rough, but I'm telling you straight up, the DF is gonna leave his mark. I'm actually looking forward to it.

Unfortunately, I'm going into this burst of activity way sore, my shoulder is again killing me, my neck hurts, and both my knees are fucked. I've got a lot of fluid on my right knee- formerly known as my "good" knee, cos it's still got some cartilage in it- I hurt it before I went to Africa, and here's how.

The DF started working an old school Fed, Mountain State Wrestling, about a month ago, had a couple decent matches so far, the last one was the Saturday before we left for Africa, in Mount Hope (and the Lesbians From Prague were there, they've become big DFZ fans, good for them) with this kid, Gary Vandall.

Since I'm new to this Fed, I'm trying to impress the fans there in Mount Hope (all 45 of 'em), so I change the finish a bit, after I hit Vandal with the sidewalk slam, instead of pulling him up into the leg sweep/OD combination, I'm thinking, "They’ve probably not seen a lot of Jap stuff here in Mount Hope" so when I pull Vandal up after the slam I call a Shining Wizard instead of the leg sweep (not that I tell Vandal that, I figure he won't know a SW from a pop bottle upside the head, so I just whisper in his ear, "Stand still till I knock you down" and Vandal, good soldier that he is, says "Okay"). However, throwing that Shining Wizard I pop my fucking right knee, and so here we are.

This fucked up body- even though I'm bitching about the knee, it's the shoulder I'm more concerned with- is gonna make my decision to forego the steroids and try and pump up this summer au natural- we're supposed to film the local DF movie stuff in September, keep your damn fingers crossed- that much harder, but I still think it's the right decision. Besides being expensive, I just think shooting that shit into my ass would be a mistake. Instead, I'm gonna start lifting with Doug over at this gym in South Charleston where he trains as a power lifter (fucker's got something like a hundred trophies, so he must know something), there's a lot more equipment over there than I can cram into my bathroom/weight room here at the house, and I can go with much heavier weights if I've got someone to spot me. So wish me luck, cos it's not gonna be easy.

What's Bill drinking? Well, right now green tea, I drank all the Gatorade when I got up, but last night it was beer, and plenty of it. I drank five over at Travis' house- Miller Genuine Draft, not good, but free- and counting cans of Bud around here, there are nine lined up in the window of my room (Sarah's beer castles) and three here by the computer, for a total of- hold on- seventeen down the hatch last night. Normally that much beer wouldn't come close to putting me out the way they did last night, but other than the few beers I drank to be polite at the cook out Saturday, that's the first beer I've had since getting back from Africa.

STILL feeling puny from the trip, listless and sort of down, everyone else who went is apparently experiencing the same thing, except Mike, who brought home a full blown case of dysentery with him- I just got a case of "African stomach" while there, which is unpleasant enough, and which we'll go into in the TSOA stuff. Anyway, Mike's apparently been sick as hell since we got back, he was still "shitting through a keyhole" (whatever that means) when Danny talked to him Monday. Get well soon, Mike.

Been having some weird ass dreams with all the sleeping I've been doing, had two last night, in the first one Joe and I were sitting at this picnic table drinking, he was drinking some clear stuff, doing shots, every time he'd do one he'd get older, I kept telling him, "Man, you need to quit drinking that shit, it's making you old", but of course he doesn't listen to me, so pretty soon he's sitting there drunk, and a hundred years old. I get ready to leave, Joe's too damn old to even stand up, so I take his car keys and am going to leave him there- hey, I told him to quit drinking that stuff- when he starts old man whining at me, so I hit him in the stomach and he throws up all the stuff he'd been drinking back into the pitcher it came out of, and he's young again- or at least, the age he is now. I still insist on driving, and in the dream promptly drive us off a bridge. The end.

In the second one I was this secret agent- I often have these Bond-ian dreams, those movies made quite an impression on me when I was a kid- who'd been captured by the opposition and castrated, and then let go. Yow. I mean, there was nothing left at all, and as the dream opens I'm in this laboratory with this Q like character, and he's showing me all these plug in devices that can now be attached to my adapted empty crotch. There were all these lethal penis shaped devices, a laser, and a flame thrower, and a machine gun- God knows what Freud would make of all this- and I keep plugging them in and shooting flame out of my dick, or whatever, I was having a hell of a time, but then it comes time to plug in my flesh and blood replacement, and I do, it looks just like what I lost, I'm happy as a clam, until- "I can't feel anything. Oh fuck, I can't FEEL anything", I keep getting more and more frantic, "Where's the damn feeling button on this thing, I can't feel it, I CAN'T FEEL IT!!!" and old Q is just shaking his head going, "Of course you can't, you never will again" and I wake up in a cold sweat, you better believe, and the first thing I did- you betcha.

Still no funny stories about my Dad, sorry (and trust me, I am). I was talking to Loretta's sister Carolyn at the cook out, she cuts my dad's hair, and she commented how frail he seemed recently. Frail's not a word I would've put to my Dad. but when she said it, I saw it, he's lost a lot of weight this winter, my Dad was always big through the shoulders and chest, most of that's gone now, for the first time he really is starting to look, and act, his age. I'm concerned.

Al's doing okay, except last Sunday he walked a couple blocks over to the house he used to live in- he can't remember what, or even if, he ate, five minutes after the fact, but he can remember where he lived 30 fucking years ago, girls, if Daddy ever gets like that, KILL ME-

(I'LL DO IT)

-yeah, thanks, anyway, Al goes waltzing in the front door of this house and tries to throw the very confused people now living there out, "Who the fuck are you people, get the hell out of my house!" It's sad, but it's also funny as hell, I'd have loved to have been a fly on the wall watching these poor folks trying to deal with an outraged Al, who wanted them THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE.

I stayed around there till around two, yesterday afternoon- Al's so damn glad to have me back from Tanzania, it's kind of touching- we watched a bunch of Civil War stuff on the History Channel, and he made a lot of cogent comments, "That was a damn mean ass war", "They fought like idiots back then", and "Those damn Southerners didn't know how to quit". Yes it was, yes they did, and no, they didn't.

What's Bill been watching? Not much, haven't seen the new Star Wars movie, waiting for my girls to come in so we can see it together, like we have all the others, if you haven't found work yet, Chris (here's hoping you haven't) we can hit some matinees this summer, I figure I'll go see the Fantastic Four movie (under protest), also War Of The Worlds (with the same qualifier), maybe Land Of The Dead, but what I'm definitely NOT going to see is Batman Begins, fuck 'em. I'm a purist about my Batman, and they pissed me off with that mentor shit, as said before, one of the best things about Batman is that he's totally self made, and if you don't fucking get that, then you don't fucking get Batman. And if you think I'm stupid to care so much about some comic book guy, fuck you.

One movie I have no interest in, but I'd love to see the video, is The Dukes Of Hazard. There's a still of Jessica Simpson on the cover of the new Wizard, wearing this low cut leather vest and this sort of baffled/come hither look that I find embarrassingly attractive, but then I saw the cover of some magazine Robin bought, with JS barely wearing this damn near non existent pink bikini and washing a car, that's supposed to be some video- Jesus, thinking about her already ditzy ass, almost naked and maybe buzzing on a little moonshine, all soaped up and pressing against a car window- well.

I need to get going, I got shit to do today- I got shit to do every day, anymore, what the fuck is up with that, anyway? I was going to start TSOA with this issue (#144, by the way, we're not too far from extra special big issue #150) but I'm afraid it, and you, will have to wait. I've got two hours of stuff from the trip on film, I need to get it to Danny so he can put it on DVD for me, once I do maybe some of us can get together and watch it, got some great stuff on there (I think- it's sort of hard to remember what I filmed and what I didn't, to be honest).

I'm still living the dream we had 
For me it never died

Later

Bill