posted 2018-03-21 00:30:51

I wrote a long journal entry and it got deleted because my mom borrowed my laptop to look at plant catalog websites. She handily closed that and a bunch of open porn tabs.

My therapist and I discussed this in the context of boundary issues, and spent some time with grounding exercises, because I was getting really twitchy and aggressive towards the upholstery when trying to discuss it.


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don't remember what the entry was about
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do remember that it touched on a funeral I went to this past Friday for a guy named Larry. He was 60, and shot himself in the head with his father's gun in the garage after his attempt to hang himself out there didn't work out right.

His father, who I like and is a family friend, is like 84 or 85 and alone except for his one surviving son- he's buried two sons and one grandson- who lives in Texas.

So the Sr, the father, he had a booth at the antiques store my grandmother had hers at back when she was still functional (hospice hospital bed delivered last week, she doesn't walk well, hasn't left the house since at least New Years) He's a scrapper. Has ads selling 55 gallon drums for trash burning in the paper every week, hits all the swap meets, very sweet on my grandmother. He and Larry stopped by about two months ago to visit her.

Now, honestly old dudes flirting with my grandmother is kind of gagworthy, but he's better than some. At least the weird lesions on his nose are gone.

Anyhow, his son, who's own son had died, and who never got over the death of his mother, went and committed suicide. Stupid fat fuck leaving his father alone like that. He was kind of a giant squish, lot of health problems he wasn't that keen on addressing, unresolved emotional trauma, couldn't stand the thought of his father dying before him (my mom's theory).

My main memory of the deceased- besides seeing him at the county dump with his dad / around town, was the glow in my grandmother's eyes when she came home from visiting him and his dad and told me about the fun new term she'd learned from him regarding our enemies the Middle East, sand nigger. Fat fuck was bloated up with pure class.

And as sad and lame and beset by tragedy and casually racist as he may have been, he never should have pulled that shit on his dad. He made his dad a cake every week for years running. I went to that funeral for the living. His dad, underdressed in a corduroy jacket on a cold march day, didn't deserve any of this shit.

Larry's wife- we all thought they were separated or divorced- was crying hard at the service. Preacher was a woman from Ghana, or perhaps Nigeria, who I saw preach at the methodist church a few years back. She read a poem written by Larry's wife, and then told her to stop crying because she'd read the poem Larry's wife wanted her to read. Weirdly cold shit that didn't match my African minister stereotype. We hit the 23rd psalm and the lords prayer mostly by heart. She included the ashes to ashes, dust to dust line, which is from the Anglican book of common prayer and is not in fact biblical, but it's nicely poetic.


There was a pile of people there, at least 60, but it was cold and we all left quickly.
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So my weight loss efforts are going to be hampered by all the braunschweiger I just bought. Eh well.


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So relationship wise, I'm not sure what to do. I don't really see a future with M. I need to break up with her this week. I mean, she lives two hours away and has never met my parents. We are coming up on our one year aniversary, and we have been good to each other, and she's pretty cool, but no.

I'm mad at them a little about that. M. will say it's because they're white and she's not and there is likely a grain of truth to that, but my parents treat anyone I date like crap.

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So I donated again today. I've been working with this one recipient couple for god... months? since early summer? This woman has multiple fertility issues, probably doesn't ovulate, I donated Sunday - in my church suit- and Tuesday (today) and wants to hit Friday because at this point, fuckit, I'm just handing this woman my semen because she and her husband need a hobby.

I mean, I basically don't even meet them halfway anymore, and am making them drive to the food lion by my house. I don't want to disappoint them, but I don't think it's gonna happen. And as long as I just have to go like a couple blocks away, I'm okay with that. We all have our fantasies.

He, btw, had a sports injury in adolescence that rendered him permanently sterile. We hang out and chat in parking lots a lot while his wife gets a cup of my semen positioned appropriately. His dad made all his kids learn a trade, so he worked for the federal reserve for years, but is also a locksmith and used to go to a swap meet at jets stadium in north jersey and cut keys for people on the weekends, and it paid as well as his fed job. Now he's a retired fed employee and makes clever/obscene novelty t-shirts as his side gig. Lots of spare time to drive his wife around while she tries to get pregnant by randos they meet on the internet.

Anyway, point being, I need a little more economically productive hustle in my life. I'm probably going to end up selling high end BDSM equipment on Ebay.