I don't want the past, it don't mean nothing to me
I don't yearn for it, or what I used to be
And when I see your face, it don't bring back a thing
You got left behind in time, just like two fucking rings
You'll be so broken, honey, when you don't have control
When nobody wants you, cos you're too fucking old
Can't you see it, passing you by?
It's just frustration, tragedy and lies

Hey

Started to call this one something melodramatic, like, "I Walk Alone", but then I also sit alone, and sleep alone, and eat and drink and piss alone, so, besides being lame, to be accurate, the title would have to take up half the damn newsletter, so . . .

Well, as most of you know, the girls left yesterday (and thank you to all the people who e-mailed or called to check on me, or sent me something uplifting, I'm quite genuinely touched). Wasn't as bad as it could've been, I'd already decided to be cool, not for anyone else's sake really, just out of pride, I'd be fucking damned if I was gonna give those maggoty shits (I'm talking G and BW here, certainly not the girls) the satisfaction of seeing how bad they hurt me. Loretta had the sense to leave Paul at her house (which used to also be my house), she didn't say a word the whole time they were loading the girls stuff in the SUV, wouldn't even make eye contact, I didn't speak to her, either, I was saying goodbye to the girls there at the car when I looked up and noticed Loretta smiling. And I'd had such good intentions . . .

It wasn't much, I just got up in her face and flipped her off, hard, and in a few sentences told her what I thought of her. She again showed very good sense, didn't say anything back, just got in the car and left. Sure as shit wiped the smug ass smile off that bitch's face, though, cos I really think for a second she thought I was going to get violent. Hope she crapped her fucking drawers. And thank you, Jesus, cos she again looked like fat ass (for her) SHIT.

So, the girls are gone to live with Gandhi and the Baltimore Whore and I'm pretty much gutted by it, but I'm not going to beat it to death here. People, very good people, have tried to make it better by saying it's not about you, it's about Sarah's theater aspirations and all, and that's nice, but what they don't understand is that all that kind of shit is just window dressing, the bottom fucking line is that after all I've tried to do for those girls their entire lives, and all Loretta hasn't, and has done TO them, they still chose to leave me and go live with her, and I don't care what kind of shine or spin you try to put on it, that's what happened, and it SUCKS. That dirty bitch bought their asses right out from under me, and I'm hurt.

(I'M HURT TOO).

I know you are, big guy. Still, life goes on, so . . . other than whining about his kids moving away, what has Bill been up to? Had a weird, WEIRD dream, even for me, last night. Dreamed I'd gotten another leopard gecko for company (dogs are better, I know, but lizards are cheaper and less trouble) which is something I've actually been considering, I go in to feed him and he's gone, in his place is this truly hideous thing, looks sort of like a poisonous powdery blue iguana, but it had these two huge, bubble like eyes misaligned on the sides of it's head, and its mouth opens sideways, not up and down, and it's full of all these sharky looking teeth, this damn thing was warped, and truly one of the evilest looking shits I've ever imagined, damn me anyway. I go, "Where the hell is my lizard?" and this thing goes (in my head, like a telepath) "I ate it." "You did, did you? Well, stay right there, cos I'm gonna go get something and come back and kill your ass." I go into the kitchen and get the brick that I keep under the sink (which I do in real life, don't ask) and while I'm doing that I hear glass breaking back in the bedroom where the lizard from hell thing is. I go back in the bedroom and of course the aquarium has shattered and this thing is in the middle of the floor now, big as a fucking crocodile.

"You're gonna kill WHOSE ass?" it says, all smart like, and I'm damn furious, I'm thinking, I just wanted a little lizard to keep me company, and all I get is FUCKING TROUBLE. "YOUR ASS!" I holler, and I jump on its back and start banging it in the head with the brick, and off we go, rolling through the house, lizard monster trying to ram or scrape me off his back, and me hanging on and bashing him on the head bone with this brick. "You're not hurting me," he says. "Well, you're not hurting ME," I say back, and this goes on until I wake up. What does it mean? Damned if I know- but I won't be buying any lizards any time soon, believe me.

Wild dream may have come from all the beer I drank last night, which was considerable. Bud 18 packs were on sale so I got 3, drank all of one, and a couple out of another, strange night, I remember going out to Oldie's grave and having a long talk with him, also later going into this raging screaming fit, outside so I wouldn't tear up anything in here, my throat is absolutely raw this morning, I can barely speak, went to turn on the stereo a little while ago and the speakers were up full blast, Jesus, almost knocked me through the wall, what was I listening to last night, well, Sly And The Family Stone's Greatest Hits was on the old turntable (still turning, as a matter of fact), great dance album, so I guess at some point last night, or more likely this morning, I decided to dance my blues away, loudly. Good for me. Probably not so good for Jack, hope I didn't keep him up all night, he has to go to Pittsburgh today to pick up Mary. He hasn't left yet, maybe he's still asleep. Sorry, Jack.

Got the hangover from the Abyss today (ya figure?) so I'm taking the cure, more beer, plan to drink all day today, as well, get back on the path of righteousness tomorrow, set the alarm for 8 am, get up, get a shower, then . . . I don't know, go get a job, or something.

The girls and I went over to Doug and Rosa's for dinner last Tuesday, thanks guys, drank some of Doug's homemade German Alt beer, it was damn good, as mentioned previously, Doug makes damn fine home brew. He can also make rope out of twine, and cure buckskin by using deer brains, and make knives out of blanks, and he used to be able to shoot rockets damn near to the moon before Jay "I'm A Great Big Goddamn Misinformed Pussy" Rockefeller messed that up for him. A modern Leonardo, our Doug.

Been reading a lot at night lately, read the King/Straub "Black House" with the sincere hope it would put me to sleep, didn't really, it just sucked, avoid it, I hate serial killer plots anyway, even supernatural ones, a lot of people are into them but I can't stand 'em. You got a lot to answer for, John Carpenter, even though "Halloween" was really very good, see what you fucking started? There's times I'd just like to take his ass out behind the shed and thump it. Of course, I wouldn't mind taking his ex-wife, Adrienne Barbeau's, ass out behind the shed and doing something that rhymes with thump it, but that would be Adrienne of 20 or more years ago, last few times I've seen her on TV she's looked pretty bad.

Someone loaned me "Black House" like 3 years ago when it was current and I've never been able to force myself to read it until now, I'd give it back to them but I can't remember who it was, doesn't exactly look like they've been missing it. Laura is the most likely culprit, if no one else gets back with me to claim it, that's who it's going to.

Also read "Wake up Little Susie" by Ed Gorman, he's usually pretty good, writes a good Western, this is okay, a period '50's mystery, not bad, but slight. Haven't gotten to "The Monkey's Raincoat" yet because it looks good and I want to save it for a time when I'm reading for pleasure, not sedation. By the way, Chris, you in Okinawa now, or back, or not left yet, or what?

Reading right now "Coldheart Canyon" by Clive Barker, he's another one of those hit and miss guys, his good stuff is sometimes very good, his bad stuff sucks, I'm still not sure about this one, about 300 pages through 600 and it can still go either way. And speaking of sucking, our boy Clive looks incredibly gay on the cover here, not to mention dedicating the book to his husband, now, no one is more supportive of our gay brethren's right to blow one another to their hearts, and stomachs, content, than I, dear gay Steve will always remain one of my most treasured friends even though I haven't seen him in 26 years, but I don't know guys, this flaunting it thing, I'm not so sure about. If Drains sells (personally, I think it's fallen off the face of the earth, but that's another story) I'm not going on the cover with my dick hanging out, or putting "Boy, I sure love pussy" on the dedication page. Well . . . maybe not.

And all this gay shit that's suddenly on TV? It's like gay is the trendy new in (and out) thing to be. Whatever. Knock yourselves out, boys.

What's Bill listening to? Well, some son of a bitch is playing the living hell out of the drums inside my head, and I wish he'd just STOP.

The girls and I went to see "League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen" last Monday, not so bad I felt cheated (like that son of a bitching "Hulk"), not so good I'd actually recommend it, good effects, decent acting, Peta Wilson looked good, but older than I thought she was, script on the weak side. If they're going to make a movie from an Alan Moore comic, do "The Watchmen". I want to play The Comedian, he was this non-super powered superhero, so he carried a sawed off shotgun, had this incredible outfit of black leather trousers, black shirt with a red and white striped left sleeve and an armored shoulder pad, blue with a white star, on the right. And a leather bondage mask (I could wear my own). He was a total shit, a rapist and a murderer, but what a great look. Great comic as well, very interesting take on the whole superhero thing (Dr. Manhattan- "It's May. I've been here two months. The Viet Cong are expected to surrender within the week.") Who watches the Watchmen?

You people do wonders for a guy's ego, I got a bunch of e-mails about last issue, complaining I'd left out the comic section. God bless, everyone should have such dedicated readers. All right, Strikeforce Morituri this time, Doom Patrol next. SM (and I read somewhere, probably Wizard, that someone is making a SM movie) starts with the Earth being invaded by these aliens, a weird bunch, sort of like high tech savages, they have the advanced weaponry and all but they themselves are not very culturally advanced, have all this weird tribal shit going on, and decorate themselves with skulls and bones and stuff. They eat people, and I seem to remember something about them interfering with the women, as well.

This Morituri dude, as Rachel would say, comes up with this process that can confer random super powers upon the person who undergoes it. That is, if he doesn't blow up during the procedure, as more than half those trying it do. The powers granted are once again fairly generic- super strength, or speed, or flight, this one guy Radian, can fire these light beams, not quite lasers, but they'll still fry your ass. If you don't blow up, and get your powers, there's still one catch. The process is inherently unstable, so sometime within the next year, you're still going to blow up. That was the premise, not a bad one at all, I thought, cos from the start you know that all the good guys are doomed, they're going to die, either fighting the aliens, or from the Morituri Process.

I bailed on the MSWA show last night, just didn't have it in me. Don't know if that'll mess up my chances of working for them or not, at the moment I have to say I don't really care. The big CPW show is set for the 26th of September at the Huntington Field House, the poster is up on the website for anyone who wants to check it out. The Death Falcon is wrestling The Stro for the CPW Hardcore Championship, if you never see the DF wrestle another match you need to see this one cos we're doing the hardcore thing and that DF fucker is going to be CRAZED.

(I WANT THAT FUCKING BELT!)

I know you do.

(I'M GOING TO GET THAT FUCKING BELT!)

Well, you got your work cut out for you. The Stro's a big tough guy, been wrestling a long time, he's been a champ in WCW, the big leagues. Should be a good match, should be a good card.

(ONCE I GET TO THE RED CITY, I'M GOING TO SPILL THE BLOOD OF HEROES).

You watch too many movies. Still, you bust open the Stro, I'll buy you a beer.

Just got an e-mail invite from Joe to stop by for what looks to be a very excellent grill up. Appreciate the offer, big guy, but I'm on a liquid diet today, and have already had more than I should to drive (shit, I woke up still too drunk to drive). I plan to drink unto oblivion these next few hours, or however long I can keep throwing them down, I'll stop by sometime early this week, give me another day or two and I'll be back to my old charming self.

Think I'm gonna wind this up. This is kind of a short one, but my brain is really hurting right now, and I'm mostly just sending it out to answer those who have been asking, "Are you okay?" (I just typed, "Ar you pokey?", jeez, if you could've read this thing as it was first typed, well, actually, you couldn't have read it). Anyway, yes, I are okay, as okay as I get, at any rate, thanks for asking. Gonna go get plowed under now, tomorrow is another day.

Drive around town a beer in my hand
So damn drunk I can't even stand
Drinking and driving, I know it ain't right
But I tell you what, baby, neither is life
Who do you love?

(I LOVE US. AND OUR GIRLS)

I love us and our girls too. And our friends (or "frieds").

(THIS IS JAPANESE ALL-STAR WRESTLING CHAMPION SIGNING OFF. SAYONARA, YANKEE PIG DOGS)

Sayonara.

Later

Bill