9/21/05

Bill Doesn't Live Here Anymore

"Everyone hates a smart ass, Frank" 
"Yeah, but everyone loves a lover."

Hey

So, hate me for the smart ass I undeniably am, or love me for the lover I vehemently profess to be (I'm not naming any names, but there's some of you out there reading this that can back me up on the fact that I am indeed a randy, sexy beast) or just be indifferent, though I don't normally get a lot of that, still, you know what- it all turns out the same in the end, trust me. Whatever, I'm back, beaten but not broken. Not yet, anyway.

My Dad continues his sad, sorrowful decline. He's worse now in all areas physical and mental than he was 3 weeks ago when I wrote the last one of these things. Nobody seems to fucking know why. He's incontinent now both bladder and bowel-

(I'M SURE HE APPRECIATES YOU BROADCASTING THAT).

-yeah, well, sorry, his cognitive abilities are also drifting away like sand in the wind. Every now and then he'll come back to himself and it's my Dad trapped in that fucking train wreck, and it makes me want to just fucking puke. It's not right, man. It is not fucking right.

However, I learned a very long time ago that what I think is "right" doesn't have a goddamn thing to do with anything. He'll be coming home the 29th of this month, total care or max assist in all areas, g-tube fed and diapered, and that's the way it is. If those country ladies up Mammoth can take great care of their mom, I can't do any less for my Dad. Gonna play hell with my social life, though.

My Mom is still recovering from her surgery, has half of her staples out, she was supposed to get the rest out last Thursday but got sick, and they wouldn’t take them out, she gets them out this Thursday. She's still not too stable- I meant physically, but that applies to her mental state as well-so either Tina or I have had to stay with her since she came home a couple weeks ago.

She's not any trouble other than just the time spent having to be there, not a speck as demanding as my Dad was being, it's actually been kind of nice to have someone to cook for again, even just the simple stuff she eats, grits and tomato soup and grilled cheese, and it's also kind of nice to know it's appreciated. I'm sure, cos when my Dad was there cooking for them it always had to be Crazy Ass Old Man Tomato Soup From Mars, and Grilled Cheese With Armadillos On It. We were up to see my Dad the other day- my parent's devotion to one another through all this shit continues to be genuinely touching, every time I see him he always tells me, "You look after your mother"- and I'd walked out of the room cos they were changing his diaper- I just don't want to see that shit, I know it'lll be my reality soon enough, but it's also totally fucked up, my Dad messing his britches- what he calls it- and I just don’t want to know, I really don't. I walk back into the room and my Mom is telling my Dad how good I've been to her since he's been sick, so I hung back and listened for a while, it made me feel good for a change. I'm not totally fucking worthless, really.

Of course my Dad has to say, "You still need to keep an eye on that boy. You know how he is". Yeah, next thing you know I'll be crashing my bike through the neighbors picture window, or putting a divot in the preacher's kid's head with a flung chunk of cinder block for him saying my family's all going to hell, maybe so, but you first, motherfucker.

A couple weeks ago, when my Dad was doing much better in his physical therapy, his therapist told me, "You know, your Dad is superhumanly strong on his right side. I've never seen anything like it." I told her it ran in the family, she laughed, said, "Your sister told me he got so strong chasing you down and beating you when you were a kid". No shit.

Speaking of Tina, she's been an amazing amount of help, especially for someone who as recently as two years ago would take terrible advantage of my parents without a shred of remorse. Don't know where this change in attitude had come from, some other family members have been quite cynical about it, "Has she seen the will?" but as for me, I don't care, better late than never is how I see it. Tina's fucked up love life makes mine look serene- what is it about us, truly, that makes it that way?- she made the telling comment last week about my Dad, "He's the only man in my entire life I've ever been able to depend on." Again, no shit, I'm just happy she finally realized it.

So, I'll be moving into my parent's home by the end of this month. I'd rather have all the skin peeled from my body and then be rolled in salt, but no one's made me that offer. It's not that I don’t want to take care of my parents- I don’t want to move back into that house. You CAN'T go back home again, and being back there this month, not for a visit but knowing that's going to be my home again, has been very bizarre and unsettling and I don’t like it one bit.

It's like the last 30 years never happened. I've had enough trouble dealing with those feelings anyway since the divorce, and particularly since the girls left me to go to Baltimore, I can't count the times I've woken up out here in the middle of the night without a clue where the fuck I was, and if you'd immediately asked me what year it was, or my age, I honestly couldn't have told you. But now, to be living back in my parents house again- my truly fragile psyche just doesn't need this- I'll be crazy as a fucking loon by Christmas. And I absolutely refuse to move back into my old room downstairs. If I did, I'd be nuts by Friday.

Also, I just hate fucking moving, but who doesn't, it one of the biggest ass pains there is. And while I'm not terribly torn up about leaving this place- I am going to miss all the space to myself, already I feel smothered in that cluttered mess my parents house has become, I start to hyperventilate and have to go outside- but I sort of hate to leave in the fall, which is far and away the best season out here.

I think fall's the best season anyway, love the way it feels, and smells, and I guess I got imprinted early from all those years of going to school, fall actually feels like the beginning of the year to me, a time for starting over, with all the subliminal excitement that entails, maybe that's why this time of year's also always turned this young man's fancy, I've fallen in love a grand total of three times in my life- none of which worked out for our boy William, obviously, or I wouldn't be sitting here by myself right now with two thumbs up my ass- (although I wouldn't trade the good years I had with Loretta for ANYTHING)- and all three times have been in the fall. Go figure.

I've been officially retired for over three years now- hold your applause till the end of the show, please- 9-20-02 having been my last day with CCIL. And how does retirement feel, three years after the fact? It feels good, boys and girls. Damn good. Some folks, I assume wanting to follow in my footsteps, have been asking me how in the fuck I've been able to afford to live like I have for three years, being able to travel like I do, not to mention eat, cos truth be told, I really don't make a whole lot of money staying with Al. Sorry, folks, but that's got to remain my secret. Don't ask, don't tell. And no, that doesn’t mean I'm gay.

As for Al, I've still been able to get in a good amount of time with him this past month, again thanks to Tina staying with my Mom so I can get down to Huntington, he's doing pretty well, sort of winding down, he no longer does that motor mouth stuff he used to do, a normal evening now he'll sit and do his crossword puzzles most of the evening, and then go to bed around eleven. A lot better for both of us, cos he's not nearly as agitated as he used to be. How much time I'll be able to spend in Huntington once my Dad comes home, I don’t know, but I'm sure spending time with Al is going to seem like a vacation. At least he wipes his own ass.

Got a bunch of e-mails telling me to hang in there, thanks, also got a couple from fans asking me not to discontinue the NL - perish the thought- even though times are tough. Hey, this thing grew out of times being tough. Anyway, since they both said nice things about me, I'm gonna quote them here.

DeltaZ says "you're a fine writer with a quick wit, forty some years of deeply lived experience, and a sensitive heart". I'm okay with all of it except the sensitive heart part. You must've mistaken me for some pussy. And someone called anime girl (which is funny, when Anita, Rachel and I went to the movies last summer we ran into some of the smarks who hang around XMCW, and when they finally recognized Anita out of character they went, "Hey look, it's Anime Girl!") says the NL is "cruel, contrary, and not for the faint of heart. You are so refreshing. Thank you." Contrary, that's more like it (and what a great word). Also, you're welcome. It's been my pleasure.

As for my girls, Sarah continues to do well at college, but is quite homesick, any of you who have her e-mail address and would want to drop her a line, I'm sure she'd appreciate it, as would I. And if you don't have it and would want it, get in touch with me, I'll get it to you. As for Rachel, she's mad at her Daddy and is currently not speaking to him. Get over it, girl.

Loretta and I had a big fight when she was in over Labor Day- I could get into a fight with Jesus, Gandhi (the real one) and Mother Teresa right now, cos you see those blue twitchy things sticking out all over me, look sort of raw? Those are my fucking nerves, don't get on 'em- basically cos she wouldn't accept that "No" means "No" (which is also why Rachel is mad at her Daddy), I figured we were back to square one, cos I said some nasty shit (at the top of my lungs on the front porch of our old house, which we moved into 20 years ago next month, Jesus) but apparently not, Loretta says we're still getting along, so what the hell.

What's Bill been up to in between going to the hospital, and fixing grits for his Mom (she likes them soupy with lots of butter) and staying with Al, and trying to get what little he owns in this world packed and moved? Well, how about I tell you.

Danny had his premier of "In The Ringer"- his feud with Allen in XMCW- shown at the LaBelle Theater in South Charleston this past Saturday. It's okay, I think it needs less talk and more action, but that's just me, he had a good crowd, got a good response. Lots of friends there, Chris, Debbie and Ron showed up but couldn't go out drinking cos Chris' stomach is bothering him- I'm concerned, really- and Ron needed to go home and take a nap or something. Geezer.

However, Danny, Robin, Joe, BFP, GF and I did go out drinking, hit those same little West Side bars we went to a month or so ago, picked the one we're gonna film in, which got us some free beers from the owner, and Joe and I some free cigars. It's not only good to be the Death Falcon, it's good to be his friend. I got pretty buzzed up, more so than I meant to, I found some pills in my pocket so I went ahead and took them with a bunch of beer, fucked me up pretty badly there for a bit, at one point I couldn't talk- I could make noises, I just couldn't form them into words. Ludicrous, I know.

And I'm gonna quit talking about my current pill popping cos it upsets a lot of people, Joe (the anti-drug) among them. Also, it's probably not the smartest thing to advertise. The problem with Bill, however, is that once he's just said yes, just saying no is not an option. And while I appreciate all the concern shown, not to worry. I'm fucking indestructible. Really.

Danny's got another premier, "The Ghosts Of Green Bottom" at the Clay Center tomorrow, show times 8 and 9 pm, if you go to the 8 pm showing you should see me there.

What's Bill drinking? Gatorade. Had a wet fucking night here last night- this is the first night I've spent here in over a week- Kroger had 22 oz, Buds on sale 10 for $10, you can't hardly beat that, so I bought ten, and by God, I drank ten. Yes, my head is fucking killing me, I can't believe you had to ask.

What's Bill listening to? Nothing right now, other than the slow, dull throb of blood in my well damaged brain, but, in keeping with this back to the future mode my life has taken, I have been listening to a lot of the old stuff I loved back in high school, most recently Deep Purple. Don't laugh, they were idiots, I know, especially that twit Blackmore (he's got a hot girlfriend now though, bastard) but they could crank out the rock. Ian Gillan could scream and still not sound like a little girl, unlike all those '80's big haired faggots, and he also had the greatest on stage line to a sound man ever, "Could you please turn everyone up louder than everyone else?" Funny.

And Jon Lord had the best organ sound EVER, him playing the chords on all their song is what made them so fucking heavy, not (that twit) Blackmore's guitar, I'd LOVE to have a fucking B-3 like his. Of course, then I'd get drunk and jump up and down on it and tip it over on its side, and spill beer all into them important electrical parts, and then be going, "Hey Joe, this fucking thing is bust", and he'd sigh and go, "Of course it is . . . "

Tina's having some time warp issues of her own, she was saying the other day, "Jesus, it's like I'm in grade school again, I'm sitting out on the front porch and I hear someone blasting 'Smoke On The Water' for God's sake, and I look up and here you come blazing up the street and then you open your car door and all these beer cans fall out . . . " I feel your pain.

And speaking of falling/being in love, as we were further up the page, remember way back when, probably 3 years ago at least, when I was looking for that Genesis song cos it had been playing while Kathy Davis and I (one of the three) made love back at Marshall? I finally found it a while back but forgot to mention it, after buying a couple shitty Genesis albums trying to find it, the song is "I Know What I Like", off their Selling England By The Pound album. It's an okay song, but if you're hearting it for the first time lying post coital in your dorm room and exchanging "I'll love you forever" vows as pillow talk with the stone beautiful and brilliant, Wisconsin born and bred, and which as far as I know, is where she is today, Kathy Davis (those sexy, brainy Midwestern blonds, man they’ll break your heart- or at least they'll fucking break mine, hopefully you're not as big a goddamn sucker as I am) it sounds like fucking magic. I listened to it a couple times and then put it away, and I don't expect to play it again. It makes my chest hurt.

I'm gonna scream and shout till my dying breath 
I'm gonna smash it up till there's nothing left

And on that note, what's been up with the mighty Death Falcon lately? He worked the Regatta show for XMCW, put in a (drug free) performance best described by Chris as "gimpy", I dropped Smokey across my knee in a backbreaker and then couldn't stand back up, my knee wouldn't work, it was ridiculous, I had to sort of flop down on him with this "I meant to do that" look. I passed on the show on the 9th, now that I don’t have a valet XMCW just isn't any fun anymore, I think I'm gonna take a break from there.

I'm taking an enforced break from MSW, having been invited not to come back there for a long while for reasons very similar to what got me suspended from House of Pain. I'm telling you, man, I've been edgy as fuck lately.

Went to the IWA-EC show a couple weeks ago to see Sabu, he was good, as expected, although short- 5' 9", tops- and he didn't do anything, other than the triple jump moonsault, that the DF hasn't done at least as well. While there, I did get invited to participate in 304 Wrestling, this new, supposedly super hardcore Fed's King Of Rage battle royal last Wednesday at Remedies bar down in Huntington. Danny asked to be in it, the guy told him "No", but you can come out with the DF if you like. That's the second time that's happened to him, Danny was trying to get us into Apex-AWA down in Oak Hill, the guy told him, "You can manage Bill if you want, but I can't use you as a worker". Ouch.

It was a pretty debauched locker room, lots of drinking, a bunch of ring rats- I don’t like to disparage females, but these girls were ring rats, straight up- going around having guys sign their tits and bare asses- I signed three tits myself, didn't bother with any asses, most of which were big as billboards anyway- and offering blow jobs right then, and anything you wanted later, pretty crude, I wasn't at all impressed, with the girls or the situation.

One guy- there were WAY to many hangers on in that locker room- sitting next to me on the pool table points to this half dressed girl, looks like she drives a truck for a living, asks me if I'd like to screw her, I started to say, "Not even with your dick, buddy" when he goes, "She's my girlfriend, I don’t care." Yeah, but see, I do.

I hadn't planned on getting drunk, although I was going to drink a few- hardcore battle royals aren't anything like real wrestling, in fact probably the best way to go into one is with a buzz on- but I got there at nine for a ten o'clock bell time, and didn't go on till about 1:30 am. They had PBR on sale there for a buck a bottle, I (wisely) didn’t bring any money with me, I (again wisely, cos some guys ended up not getting paid) made Tom (the promoter) give me my $20 up front, I gave it to the girl at the bar- a cutie, but no wrestling fan, by what was going on there at Remedies, I don’t fucking blame her- and Danny and I drank on that till it ran out- I was buying for him as it was his birthday, and it was free money anyway is how I look at it, when that ran out I had that little fucker Blizzard- he's pitiful, but he also annoys the living fuck outta me, he talks TOO FUCKING MUCH, and just crazy shit, "I think the fans were really into my new Blizzard look," "Jesus, no one knows the old Blizzard look, no one knows who the fuck you ARE, you're just some scrawny ass backyard jobber who can’t work a lick. Now go buy me and Danny some beer." "But I've only got-" "GO BUY ME AND DANNY SOME FUCKING BEER!" "Okay".

The Dragons were also there in force and holding court, I drank probably 3 or 4 of their beers too, so I was probably 14- 15 beers in by the time the match started, something I really look down on in others, used to be I would NEVER drink before a match, not a drop, but like I said, this shit wasn't wrestling.

There were 8 guys in the BR, 4 real workers- the DF, Smokey, Eric Steele, and Deacon Furious- and 4 pretenders, a couple young lard asses with attitude, Phoenix and GCute (what!?!), some other goof ball, Dr. Green Thumb (another genius name) and then this Jesco White sort of guy, country and just dumb as fuck, sunken chest with a big beer gut, wanders up to me in the locker room and asks if I'm working the BR, tells me "Yeah, me too, I was sitting out there at the bar and Tom asked me if I wanted to be in the show and I said 'Why shore'. I got me a gigger all ready, too." "A gigger, huh?" "Yep" "Well, keep 'er handy."

I don’t know who he was, when the announcer was asking me who was in the BR I pointed to Jesco and said "Don't forget Mr. Fitness over there", when they announced him coming to the ring they called him "Mr. Fitness", how funny.

Tom asked me if I'd run the BR, he wanted it to go about 20 minutes- too long if you ask me- and come down to just me and Smokey, he wanted us to go another 10- again too long- and then the DF put Smokey over for the win. Not a problem, but the two lard asses were acting like they had more stroke than they really did, got on my fucking bad side, among other things for refusing to gig when everybody else was- "oh, we don't need color, that's just cheap heat anyway", oh boy, have I got some cheap heat waiting for you.

There were a lot of photos taken, Joe, why don't you just run a representative sampling with the NL, and put the rest on a site that people can go to to see the rest. A few highlights from the BR, and we'll move on-

Gigging Mr. Fitness with the barbed wire bat. He starts going "I- I- I", I go "You what, already?", "No . . . barbed wire. . . in . . eye". Oh shit, sorry. But I laughed my fucking ass off.

Someone brought a big chain dog collar. I got it and started choking Phoenix with it legit, Eric Steele asks me, "Do you know his face is turning purple?". Yeah, thanks. Then I wrapped the chain around my fist and started pounding him in the forehead with it, again legit, I did a couple of those Jerry Lawler fist drops, but I really couldn't get him busted up good until I started doing the corkscrew, hitting him in the head and then twisting the chain. THAT busted him wide open, it was great, but as soon as I let him go he rolled out of the ring and ran to the back. Pussy. And bring your gigger next time.

Mr. Greenjeans, or whoever, had a table set up in the corner, grabs me, says "table spot", starts to whip me into it, Jesus, I don't really think so, I reverse him and he crashes through it head first- you're supposed to hit them with your back, guess he wasn't prepared, and gets knocked out for real. They take him to the locker room on a body board. Later, in the back, he says, "When I said table spot, I meant for you to go through it". "Yeah, I know." Fucker should've grabbed someone else is all I can say.

At one point the speed (I know, I know) really kicked in, it felt like a jet engine revving up in my skull, I screamed at Danny "Get me a fucking beer!" he goes, "You cant drink it while you're working", "I don't want to drink it, I'm gonna bust the bottle and go Abdullah on their asses!" And I meant it, too. That shit makes me fucking CRAZY. Fortunately, Danny didn't get me a beer.

Juggulator, who's one of my all time favorite people ever, was absolutely drunk as fuck, he decided to do a run in- he wasn't on the card, he was sitting out in the crowd. He beats up Smokey a little, then knocks me into the corner against the busted table and asks if I'll take a cannonball. "Juggs, the table's already broken, dude". "What's the matter, pussy, afraid I'll-" "Just do the fucking cannonball." So he does, which means he comes running full force from the opposite corner and throws his big ass drunken self into me as hard as he can. As I tried to explain to his intoxicated ass, the table was already broken, so there's NOWHERE FOR ME TO GO, it hurt like fuck for an instant, but as he smashed the back of my head through the table it knocks ME out, legit.

I come to with Danny slapping my face going, "Shake it off Falcon, shake it off, dammit, Juggs you knocked him out", then I hear Danny go "NO!" and hear glass breaking. Juggs has picked up a light tube left over from an earlier match and walked up to Danny, saying "Care if I stab you with this?" and before Danny can say "Fuck no!" stabs him right in the head with that fucking light tube. I start laughing so hard I think I'm gonna piss. You said you wanted to be a wrestler Mr. Boyd.

Unfortunately, as so many shenanigans do, it all ends in tears as, just trying to get his goofy drunk ass out of the ring so we can finish the fucking match, I clothesline Juggs over the top rope- I called it, he said "sure"- and he continues to rotate, so that he busts his face on the ring apron. It was ugly, his lower teeth went through, about two inches below his lower lip- hell of a gash- and embedded themselves in his upper lip- hell of another gash. Man. He was cool with it later, no hard feelings, but I hated to do it to him, I should've just asked to leave nice or something.

(RIGHT, LIKE THAT WOULD HAVE WORKED).

Quite a bit more happened, it was a wild half hour, but I'm gonna let it go. After the show Tom was like "You were pretty hard on a couple of those guys out there", I told him, "If God didn't want them to be sheared, he wouldn't have made them sheep". He just looked at me. The dumb fuck obviously doesn't watch enough classic movies.

Felt like shit the next day, beside the hangover/concussion headache, the ring was filthy, all full of sand and little bits of light tube glass that gets under your skin and itch/burns terribly, the cuts on my arm where I'd used my own "gigger" were all swollen and pus filled from rolling around in that shit, I had to break them open and clean them out good with peroxide, then neosporin them up.

The DF is working the Lord Of The Rings tournament this weekend, I'm quite excited about it, should be able to do some real wrestling, which I miss a lot. And in her little heart went to loveland department, Molly has really been counting the days till I can make it back up there. I sent Joe some (some) of the photos she sent me, so he can include one here. Although I don’t know how the fuck I can top last time, I don't have any more Viagra and the person I got it from last time says she can't get me any more- by the way, I don't believe you, I think you're just saving it all for that broke down old man of yours.

(GOD BLESS. YOU'RE A GRACIOUS MOTHERFUCKER.)

Yeah, well . . . sorry. Go ahead and keep it for your broke down old man, that's cool. It was nice of you to give me what you did. Although, truly, I don't know how in the fuck I'm gonna live up to last time.

(BRING HER FLOWERS).

You're out of your damn mind. This isn't a hearts and flowers kind of deal.

Think I'm gonna close. Joe's coming by later to help me move some beds out to my Mom's, I got a bunch of stuff I need to do before then. Thanks again for all the prayers and good thoughts.

Turn the page.

Later.

Bill