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Saturday, November 1, 2008

There never was a great love that was not followed by a great hatred. (Irish Proverb)

These events were almost twenty years ago.

Yeah, time flies. Much like a shit laden diaper hurled at your head from across the room.

School was going great and I did what I usually did when faced with success. I quit.

Now, I did it under the pretense of having to support us as the book store gig was laughable and I needed something more.

But the reality was I couldn't face being successful...too much would be asked of me and I was so much more comfortable with failing. The tragic flaw of the Greek hero.

We failed to meet the rent in my childhood home, which in a way was good because there were things going on emotionally in the house (because of the house) that were decidedly unhealthy and weird.

We found a duplex near my Grandparents (Mom's side) two-story home near Lakewood. It had burned down but I remembered the area, specifically the back yard.

My Grandfather; a large, white haired, red and ruddy faced Scotsman was a lineman for the telephone company. My Grandmother was a stern, hatchet faced, East Texas emasculator.

She had been given a new vacuum cleaner the size of an iron lung on wheels and would clean the gargantuan house and leave the monstrosity in the front hallway, much to the displeasure of my Grandfather upon his return from work.

It happened several times and he finally told her if she left it in the hallway one more time he would see to it she had no vacuum.

My Grandmother was not a great listener, especially where my Grandfather was concerned.

He arrived home one day, tripped over the torpedo shaped machine and drug it, without a word to the back yard.

He removed a shovel from the garage, rolled up his sleeves, took a pinch of Garret snuff and began beating the blue eyed Jesus out of the vacuum.


My Grandmother watched silently from the kitchen window, taking a big slug from the bottle of Old Overholt (Grandad called it Old Overcoat) she kept under the sink.

These were my people, and it was within these memories that we moved a few blocks away.

The other half of the duplex was empty so we set up house, allowing our Lab free reign in the back yard.

Then the bald headed, Australian stripper moved in.

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My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...