after the hospital, if i can, if i'm not to freaked out behind it, i'm going to the tree. while i'm out and can't puss out.
tell me something: why, after all this time? just to quell your curiosity? what about you? i want to know about you. anything. all i remember is that you didn't like me at all, and i used to take you to dance class. i have exactly two pictures of you, one at a dance recital and one from the day you, mom and i picked up Kasey at the Stake Center in PA. and i think i found a picture of you in your football uniform on the web, but i can't remember well what you look like since the ECT. mom told me you played football. That you stopped. i think that was really all she ever told me of you. i read on the web that you got your Eagle Scout badge. You said in the interview you wanted to be a hairdresser. Kraig said mom told you to say that. that's it. that's all i know.
and here you know when i went to ethel m. so at one point you've been in my online journal. i kind of wish mom and dad read it. dad has feelings, it would hurt him.
they told me they hired a private detective to find Karlee. they didn't. i found her in 10 minutes by searching her name, the names mom gave you guys make you pretty easy to pick out of a list. she is happy. she is limited to a mechanized wheelchair. she had a fall while hiking at the Grand Canyon a few years ago and never got better. She is going to school to become an accountant and more, i'm not really clear on economic phraseology. she still has dreams of working for the Government, maybe the DoD. i never told her i've pretty much screwed her out of that one, as far as getting security clearance. the ubiquitous They don't have a file on Ken or Karen, but they damn sure have one on nutty old me. Maybe she can get a civil position that doesn't require the clearance. she's really working hard for this. she and Danny are happy. I don't think they ever got married. Like me, she has no aspirations to have children. You and Kraig are the only hope there for mom and dad to be grandparents.
i'll tell you a story about Kraig. the real reason i'm afraid of him. i get really angry. i used to get really angry at him. he would push me. he was just a kid, but he would rile me up. he knew just how to do it because we were so much alike and so close when he was little. so we would both get into our moods and BAM, shit would all go wrong. i used to beat on him. it is my second regret in life. well, my first of two. one night, mom and dad were gone as usual. they hadn't come home at the appointed time and i had missed a concert i had really wanted to go to with Jeff Rizzo (I don't know if you remember him, he was pretty much my only friend in high school that would come over to the house), and Kraig and i were going at it. he started swinging and i started swinging. keep in mind, he came up to my waist. i was wrong. wrong. wrong. wrong. i should have walked away. he was just a child. he didn't know what he was doing, and even if he did, that is no fucking excuse for what i did. i just kept hitting him. and he climbed up into the bunk bed and tried to hide from me, and i just kept hitting him. and then he stopped moving. he played dead. and it worked. it scared the shit out of me. i mean, it really fucked me up, i was convinced the kid was unconscious or dead. and i completely freaked out. i went into my room and stayed there until i had karlee put you guys to bed. i never touched Kraig again. and i've been terrified of him ever since.
whatever. for what it's worth. i have so few memories left. they're mostly bad.
do you write a lot of poetry? tell me about it. i really liked that piece you sent me. "eloquent" seems lacking. "gorgeous" seems trite. but i really liked it. (you'd never know i review about a dozen poems a day, i just don't run into many i like). ever go to a poetry reading? ten years ago they were dreary here, a few high points. now the talent pool has widened and there are some really good poets here in Vegas, our slam team wins and shit.
doc is going to try to get off work early to take me to see nana, hopefully to get there when visiting hours start, but before mom and dad. i hope she's okay, and doesn't need long term care, though if she did i would be happy to move to Oakland with her and be her caregiver. all i need is a BART pass and a shrink, and i could do it. eventually, doc could transfer to the hub in SFO and move in with me. for her sake, i hope she's okay. i've always wanted to move in with grandma. especially when papa was alive. i kept hoping mom and dad would send me to them. they did in the summers for a while. we used to take wild road trips. Papa would put brie in the trunk of the car as we drove through the desert and when it melted, he would crack it open over some tortilla chips and make brie nachos and we would drive down the road with him "bum-bum-bumming" to some song on the radio and munching on nachos while grandma pointed out the sights. everywhere they ever took me was beautiful. when grandma is sober, she's a beautiful person. but we're all of us, mom, grandma and me, mean, bad drunks. they can just handle their liquor better than me. i never learned moderation, i learned "puke in the garbage can at the end of the bar while buying another round". it was so punk rock. so i stuck with it.
okay, it's pre-dawn and i'm rambling. usually i write some long journal entry in the mornings. today i took it out on you. i don't even know if you have any interest in this shit.
so that's where the last hour has gone. something tells me i'm not done yet. after i get a smoke, a break from this song and a fresh cup of coffee, i will have more to write . . .
i got my clothes out that i'm going to wear to the hospital. just to visit. doc is taking me this morning. i can't just walk in in doc martens, jeans and a black flag tshirt, though that's what my parents will expect. if they aren't completely surprised that i show up.
i have to remember to take my meds. and maybe have a shot of vodka before i leave for the hospital. or, since i want to go to the tree afterward, i should fill the flask. if doc has to talk to my dad, he'll need it.
my strongest memory of my dad and doc together? here it is, and it might just sum up doc's not liking of him.
we had just moved into the new apartment in las vegas. our furniture wouldn't be there for a week, but you'd better believe i had the web cam on. we got this on cam. i was traipsing around in some cut off shirt and hiphuggers, since the cam was on and all. and doc and i were standing, facing my dad, and doc was talking to my dad and my dad was just standing there, gaping, and i mean Gaping, at my tits. finally, doc waved his hand in between my tits and my dad's eyes to get his attention.
and that's my doc and dad memory. then there was the parental tour of the southwestern national parks while all hell broke loose at home and they left a known crazy person in charge and were completely incommunicado. we had rangers putting up wanted signs . . . wait, i can find it, i journaled it. i'll link to it. it starts there. it's in a part of my journal that is "friend's protected" so if you can't see it and you do belong to lj, sign in and try again. and if you're not a member of lj, you will need to sign up and become my friend to see it. i'm going to go read it now. it took me an hour to find, i want to know what it says.