Jesus I vanished again. I always do that. I'm gone for a few months and everyone's life changes around me, its scary as hell.

So since no one is see of read this, here's me and my wife...we are still married and will remain unhappily married until one of us dies I believe.

So many interesting things have happened this year I'm going to have to arrange them in my mind before I put them up here...

My wife in convinced I create turmoil in my life, whenever there is not any already going on. She believes I need it. I grew up with it and I don't know how to just be happy with the way things are, I need the drama. I need my job to suck, I need my marriage to be falling apart, I need to stress out, I need to randomly get in fist fights, I need to re-associate myself with old friends who I KNOW have probelms, I need to get too drunk and make poor life choices with the occassional completely willing young woman. I need this. I need this???? Really?

My dad is criminal who goes years without speaking to me. When he speaks, he ruins my life or borrows money.

My mom is an ex-junkie married to an alcoholic who hated me most of my life but now needs my help and my money but won't leave the husband.

My grandma is dead and her estate is in shambles.

My mom's 58 year old brother dropped dead out of the clear blue sky for no reason a week ago.

The economy is in the shitter and I'm a small business owner.

I think I"ve fucked my wife twice this summer.

I so don't need this.

Agios Nikolaus. Born in A.D. 270 in Patara, Lycia. Its part of Turkey now, but back then it was a Greek-speaking province of the Roman Empire.

By that point in history, worship of the old Roman gods had gradually waned in favor of "Sol Invictus", the "Unconquered Sun", he who was born with a halo of light on December 25th. If that last date sounds suspiciously familiar, bear with me, it gets better.

The story of Jesus was already spreading around the Mediterranean like a does of the clap and the Roman emperor Constantine didn't need a weather vane to see which way the wind was blowing.

He declared that Christianity become the official state religion of the Roman Empire (forget the fact he himself did not convert to Christianity until he lie on his death bed, drawing his last breath) cannily combining the existing - albeit contradictory, accounts of the life of Jesus with the mythology of Invictus.

Now this Agios Nikolaus (remember him form the beginning of this story?) the Turkish guy, he was subsequently appointed the Bishop of Myra, where he earned a reputation for charity, benevolence and anonymous gift-giving. Not to mention the odd miracle here and there.

Revered as a saint after his death in A.D. 343, his remains were entombed in Myra until the Saracens invaded in the 11th century whereupon the faithful shipped his bones over to the Basilica Di San Nicola in Bari, Italy. Where they remain to this day.

San Nicola being Italian of course, for Saint Nicholas, AKA, Santa Claus.

When you do the research, you usually find that what the masses believe isn't exactly the truth, the problem is that people today aren't really interested in the research.

Somehow this story relates to why I hate politicians, and is brought to mind by the current presidential race.

I know, weirdo.

I went to my grandma's funeral today. I was a paul bearer. It sucked. I cried a lot.





I saw my dad today. He had long, white, shoulder length hair. We didn't really speak. He didn't cry. He didn't acknowledge my daugters or my wife.





My full brother Scott, my mom (actual mother) and her 13 year old daughter came with me and my family (wife and three kids).





In addition, my dad's second wife Gretchen and their son Tom came, my dad's most recent wife (they're divorced now) Debbie and her daughter and mom came, and my dad brought a female date. Debbie let us know that my dad had told her that Libby, the woman my dad was with before Debbie, and who was around for about 8-years, had died; she had contracted Hep-C about 18-years ago as a nurse, and now she was dead. I was kind of sad.





So to keep track, there were three ex-wives of my dad there plus a new one on deck.





After the funeral service, he vanished. Good riddence to bad baggage (I've watched Mary Poppins 900+ times).





This was it, I now have no reason whatsoever to speak to anyone on that side of the family ever again.

Wanna see the bruise on my arm?

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i haven't posted in almost a year and i know no one will read this and I am going to selfishly lose it here on this page.

in 1970 my mother was 17 years old, in the 11th grade and pregnant. Her strict catholic parents threw her out of the house and she moved in with my dad's parents. My dad, also 17, and being a stand up guy, dropped out of school and eventually ran away from all of this, leaving my mom and me with HIS parents.

I was born on January 3rd, 1971 and brought home with my mom to my grandparent's house. We stayed here with them until I was 3 years old. Throughout my childhood, my dad came and went from my life as did my mom, but the one person who was always there for me was my grandma.

By the time I was 10 my parents were in their mid/late twenties, my mom was dating a 18 year old and my dad was gone again. The only person interested in being anything like a parent to me was my grandma.

Between 10 and 18, I went through multiple homes, schools, step-moms and court ordered living arrangements. My father hated my grandma because I loved her so much and at times forbid her from being around me. My mother hated me for being my father's son and he hated me for so many reasons I couldn't begin to list them here.

I am not a momma's boy or a daddy's boy, they both resented me for ruining their lives; I have always wanted them both to love me like I THOUGHT a parent should love their son, but it just never worked out, it just wasn't in them. I don't know what it feels like to feel safe with your parents or to have that emotional safety net, aside from my grandma. She was the only person who loved me unconditionally.

She could never help me physical things or with money and I never asked. She just loved me. She taught me to remain positive no matter how bad it got, and at times it was very bad for me. Most of the things that I dealt with as a kid I've kept to myself; my grandma always said these things weren't hurting me as much as they were strengthening me and my character. I love her so much for that perspective.

She died yesterday, and I am absolutely crushed. I can't believe I am even typing those words.

I am grown now with a wife and three fantastic daughters but I can't help but feel like I've just lost everything. This is just so horrible.

1. No idea where my dad is or if he is alive. Last I heard from him was when he text messaged me asking for $2000 and I texted back "no". Since then, nothing.

2. My mom's husband of 15 years has fallen off of the wagon, is once again a RAGING drunk and is moving out of their house into his parents house (he's 46 years old mind you). My mom and 12-year old sister will be left to fend for themselves. My mom hasn't worked in 13 years.

3. The check my brother wrote me for rent bounced...hence all of the checks I wrote for the bills to his building bounced too. Joy.

4. Still haven't had sex with my wife since the baby was born...5 months ago...


Life is really kicking the shit out of me lately. Thank goodness for my kids.

The Unbelievable Insanity of Me

About a week and a half ago, Thursday, I received a phone message from my "step-mom". The message said my dad was in the hospital and I needed to call her. I ignored it. She called my house and I answered the phone.

"...the doctor's can't rule out that he had a stroke".

That was the phrase I remember hearing. Quickly the background; Dad is 54 years old. He was abusive to me when I was a kid. We have been estranged several times in my life, sometimes for years and years. He is a con-man and a thug. He has been married upwards of 8 times. Currently we are not fighting though we are not exactly hanging out with each other.

I went to the hospital Friday, I did not go t work. When I got there my only full brother (I have half-siblings) was already there. He speaks to my father even less than I do, but there he was at my dad's bedside.

My dad was in a hospital robe, on his back, an I.V. in his arm, staring straight up. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't eat. He was apparently in tremendous pain (they were using the "blink once for yes and twice for no" method of questioning) and vomiting involuntarily and sporadically. They had taken him off of morphine (not powerful enough) and moved him onto Dilaudid and Torodal for the pain and 3 other drugs for the nausea, apparently it wasn't working. He looked old. His long hair wasn't dyed black right now, it was a dirty sort of gray/black mix. He was thin and sinking into his bed, his breathing was labored.

They had done a spinal tap to check for meningitis, it came back negative. They couldn't get him into the MRI because of the vomiting. They had promised a neurologist was on his way.

For 2 days he didn't speak, he didn't move. The doctors wanted to know everything, unfortunately my brother and I knew very little. We knew he had said he had been diagnosed with macular degeneration in his eyes; a disease where you develop a blind spot, or missing spot in the middle of your range of vision...a "skip" in your view...that "skip" grows over time until you are blind. My step-mom said she couldn't get his eye doctor to give her any info, so I called him.

The doctor explained that my dad had only been there once, although he scheduled 3 appointments over the last year, he only showed for one. The diagnosis was simple, he had blurred vision, nothing more. "Are you absolutely sure?", he was. My dad did not have macular degeneration. As usual he was a fucking liar.

Saturday the neurologist showed up finally. I was there with my step-mom were there to speak with him. He explained he believed there was pressure, probably due to swelling inside his skull. He switched my dad off of the narcotic pain relievers and onto steroids.

By Sunday morning he was in less pain, not vomiting and was in the MRI machine, although he was not happy to be in there and was now capable of letting everyone know how pissed he was.

My step-mom had been there with him, all day and all night, each day and night since Thursday and it was now Sunday. It was now that they came to tell him the results of the MRI, it was now that he could walk (barely) and speak (one/two words at a time). It was now that I was not there and the doctors explained to him about the "growth" on his brain.

I don't know exactly what happened next, but I do know he left the hospital against their pleas to stay.

The next day I got a phone call from him. He was cordial. He was calm. He explained the hospital stay and the talks with the neurologist as if I hadn't been there and as if he was not catatonic during this period. He explained that over this weekend he found out his wife had been cheating on him with the piano player in her jazz quartet, he was divorcing her, he had moved out, he did have a new house, but he couldn't tell me where just yet, he'd let me know when the time was right. He actually said that, "when the time was right", like a spy...my dad had a secret location and I wasn't authorized to know where. Oh yea, he still had a growth on his brain...we didn't talk about that.

Two days later I received a text message from him.

"Don't freak, I need some short term cash, two grand should do, no one can know"

I responded in a text message, letting him know he shouldn't freak out either, but "no" I couldn't lend him any short term cash.

Yesterday my grandmother said my dad had stopped by her house on Sunday and taken her out to a nice dinner at a very fancy restaurant and then drove her to his new house. It was very far away, and she didn't remember where exactly. She also let me know that he was getting a divorce, apparently his was had gone crazy.

I never heard from him again after I returned the text message with a "no".

Tonight I got a call from my step-mom. She called to let me know that my dad accused her of poisoning his dog and cheating on him with his doctor. He hadn't been home in two nights, she didn't know where he was.

I told her, very nicely, that I have received many of these calls over the years, from the distressed soon to be ex-wife, explaining her desire to still remain friends with me and my family after the demise of their marriage. I explained that would not be happening and told her she go on and do what's best for herself and excused myself off of the phone. We hung up.

My dad is insane. There were so much more here, but I only wanted to hit some of the highlights. I am so distracted right now, and angry.

There is every chance that my dad is on the run right now; from who or what I have no idea. He can't stop lying and he will use what he knows about me to try and manipulate me but that doesn't work on me anymore. I won't help him anymore. The difference this time is that the next time I see him the growth on his brain may have won and I may be paying for a funeral, which is fine by me.

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