i never wanted to have to learn to live without you, but I did.
“if you’re searching the lines for a point
well, you’ve probably missed it
there was never anything there
in the first place”
you did something courageous that i could never do…you said goodbye.
i tried numerous times, but i never wanted to hurt you like that. i’m happy now that you had the courage to call it off. it had been over for a while, so an ending was the best choice.
my anger when you left was, among other things, my fear of losing my best friend of 13 years. i was also angry that you barely helped with anything: with the chores, a job, nothing. you did “you know what” every day, remained that way all day/evening/night, and played video games almost 24/7. when you *finally* made an attempt at bringing in income, it was too late and you quit doing even that after a very short time and went back to playing video games, and continuing our arguments about your not doing chores. you’re not the only one to blame, but that was the case for our entire relationship. a little help could have made me see you in a different light…but you kept getting darker and i eventually didn’t even notice you any more.
words are too late now….so me, butter, and tommy, wish you well.
all my best,
he looka like a man
here i stayed on my recycling pedestal. about 70% recycle and 30% trash a week. they only pick up recycling every other week, btw.
anyway…i try to recycle everything i use. sorry i lost the link and am too lazy to google it, but several prominent news organizations did reports alleging that recycling companies recycle and then sell it. i think china was the #1 buyer of our recyclables. than the orange guy did something stupid and now china won’t buy our recycling….leaving it all to be thrown with the regular trash.
among other things, this breaks my heart. i’m sure the ocean will face another hefty fine for this.
florene richardson williams — 1928-2015
i visited aunt florene about a year or two before she passed away. we both knew i wouldn’t be coming back, so we said our goodbye’s then. she told me how much she loved me…and that she always had. i knew she loved me, but it was still nice to hear her say it one last time.
she protected me as much as she could and i’m forever thankful to her for that. i think she knew it was an impossible task, but she persevered nevertheless. she was my advocate when nobody else would take on my biological mother. only i knew how to handle my batshit, abusive, mother. aunt florene always tried to reason with her, but you can’t reason with crazy. i would usually disarm my mom with a smile…something only i was able to do…but only sometimes. aunt florene tried to apply logic to an illogical scenario, where i used humor and guile. my aunt never gave up, where eventually i did.
aunt florene was about the only member of my small family i truly loved and respected. she was somewhat well-read, easy for me to make laugh, strong, and determined. she was a country girl who never left the tiny town of eagle springs, nc, where she was born and raised. she had a strong, drawn-out, southern accent, that gave my name more syllables than necessary. most of the time when we arrived at her house on our usual sunday visit, she wasn’t in the house. i always knew where to find her, though. i’d run through the field of cows to the gigantic chicken houses, where she’d be feeding and checking on her chickens. there were a bazillion of them and i hated going inside when the chickens were adults. what assholes chickens can be. when they were chicks (baby chickens, but she called them “bitties”), it was easier to walk through them to get to aunt florene for a hug and kiss.
my aunt was even tempered. the only time she would scold me was when i’d sit in one of her dining room chairs and put my feet on the foot rails. drove her insane. you see…she and uncle marvin were simple folk. they farmed, raised chickens, and lived a meager, country lifestyle while raising two daughters. having survived the great depression, they wanted the few things they had to last an eternity. my scratching up the foot rails with my shoes was counter productive to that. even to this day, i think of her when i rest my feet on my own chair rails. it’s odd the things that become forever etched in our memories.
after her brother, in a drunken fit of rage, burned down the house my grandparents left to my mother and me, i stayed with aunt florene for a while. i slept on a pallet on the floor and woke up every morning to her cooking breakfast for me before school. this was something i hadn’t experienced before. my mother raised me, an only child, to be independent and not to count on others for anything life asked of me. waking up to scrambled eggs and sausage being cooked is an indescribable olfactory experience. i mean…i cooked it before myself on many occasions, but waking up to that smell was like…um…it was like…god, i wish i could think of a clever simile right now. i’ll just say she was like the mother i never really had. i know it’s trite, but it’s true.
i will forever love and miss you, aunt florene. thank you for everything. gonna’ rest my feet on the chair now (sorry), dream of scrambled eggs and sausage, and remember your loving smile.
on world’s aids day, today, i say fuk bush.
“They say to only speak good of the dead. He’s dead? Good.”
walk a mile in my shoes for a second: do you know what it’s like to walk into your local bar and 43% aren’t there? and not because they were at a concert, but because they were all sick, dying, or dead? 43% of my close friends and acquaintances gone forever. most didn’t even get an obituary because the family was so embarrassed. this is not hyperbole, btw.
that pos was responsible for killing millions of lgbtq (and straight) people. about 43% killed, due to him and his minions (basically) saying that we “deserved it” and would not fund research or even publicly say the words hiv or aids. it was a “gay disease”. instead he’d turn over the “issue” to religious people and we’d have to hear 24/7 about god and god’s punishment..blah, blah, blah. that was his decree of cowardice.
so, yes…fuk bush. i don’t mourn his death, i celebrate it.
(feel free to leave a comment whether you agree/understand or not)
not sure if this is an everywhere thing or not, but in the south we pull over and stop for all funeral processions. is this done everywhere? could google it, but am too lazy so click the comment link and let me know 🙂
playing with someone else’s heart just proves that there is nothing in yours.
was poking around google and found this:
although he left us at 4 years old and i only saw him 3 or 4 times in my life. you’d think someone would’ve googled me and told me. a relative, the military…someone.
oh well…i guess now i know.
whatever your reasons for distancing yourself from me, i forgive you. rip, walter allen mcnulty iii (“Mac”). (july 12, 1942 – june 16, 2018)
[update: 8/11/2018] found my “aunt paddy” (his sister) and we’ve been communicating via email about dad’s death. she apologized for not contacting me…said she didn’t have any contact info for me. he didn’t want an obituary, so maybe this blog post is it. she was with him and cared for him until he went peacefully into the night. part of me is disappointed he didn’t contact me, but the other part is happy he had his sister there with him towards the end. just got his official death certificate in the mail, with that, i can get more info from the military…then i’ll update this post again.
[update: 8/29/2018] below is the permanent gravestone for my dad (credit goes to findagrave.com)
RIP, John Arthur.
CREDIT, Photo: Gary Landers, AP