Pride Day, Fathers Day, Summer Of Loathe

I am now beyond the 6 month mark of what is supposed to be the second part of my life. Honestly, I have no idea where to begin except to continue with this blog. It is one of the few things which truly keeps me grounded and helps me to concentrate on something positive....and right now, that focal point is extremely difficult. I have quite a bit of hate built up in me from what all has taken place over the past 4 years. I will get to that a little later in the post.

Today is Pride Day, in Knoxville. I have no intention of going, though I had thought about it during the week. Several who know me might say that I still have a problem with who and what I am. If that's the case, those several need to learn about me a little better. I've been quite comfortable in my skin, since I came out....but I came out in my own way, and I'm not in any way a textbook example of anything.

How I feel about Pride Day, in general: If it's true that we were 'born this way', what exactly is it that I'm supposed to celebrate for only one day? If others want to throw a parade for themselves, more power to them. I, personally, don't need one to justify and embrace who and/or what I am, or what I may be in the future. I don't look down on those who participate in one, but we don't seem to agree on much of anything in the first place. As I have previously stated....I don't like bars, I don't cruise parks, I really don't care for stage plays or musicals, my favorite songs are NOT show tunes, my favorite artist is NOT Lady Gaga, I don't follow trends, I don't like being gawked upon as if I'm a piece of meat in a butcher shop and I definitely didn't get the memo on what is butch/fem, nor do I give a shit.

What I think Pride Day is really about, under the surface of it all, is repeating the march which occured after the Stonewall Riot (New York City, June, 1969). If I'm wrong, go ahead and correct me. I don't think I am, but the invitation to set me straight without debate is open.

Today is also Fathers Day. This may sound cold, but I'm glad that my father isn't here to suffer any longer in a nursing home (especially the first one he was in), to see how selfish people are getting to be, and how the country that he fought for and worked 32 years to help sustain with military security is fading away. He went through enough as a child; His father abandoned him, his sister, and his pregnant mother who had relocated to a shipyard in Brunswick, Georgia, to make a better living for herself and her children. Dad was 11 years old when this happened. His mother had no choice but to work long enough to pay for bus tickets back to Gadsden, Alabama (only an hour away from their hometown), then had to stay there and work a little longer to pay for bus tickets back to Guntersville. They were in Gadsden long enough that my father and his sister were temporarily enrolled in a school, down there. This took place in the mid 1940s.

People seem to think that the Great Depression ended somewhere close to the mid 30s, and this should serve as proof of how false that thought is. Some families struggled from the wrath of the depression all the way into the late 50s and early 60s. Jack's family was a prime example of ones who struggled much longer than average.

As for the hate I have got built up in me: See if you would feel any better if these barnacles were stuck to your plate.....August, 2007, dad went into a nursing home. August, 2009, I found mine & Jack's room mate in her bed, dead. She was only 49 years old. September, 2010, Jack went into the hospital. November, 2010, one of my best friends (Ruth Anne Lankster) passed away from kidney damage. She was only 44. December, Jack passed away. January, an uncle passed away. March, I had to vacate my home and give my dog away. April, dad passed away and within a week, tornadoes hit the southeastern states. I was in Alabama for close enough to 2 months.

I am tired, I am upset, and I am thouroughly pissed, though I do my best to keep a positive attitude. But, I hate the so-called quality of life which has been dumped in my lap. I hate the way I feel, most of the time. I hate that I feel this way at all. I hate that the place I have called home for more than 12 years no longer feels like home to me....and after being gone from my hometown for more than 16 years, it still does not feel like home either.

I hate Jack's 2 sisters for going behind my back and putting a tombstone on his grave which does not contain both of our names on it (Cheapest piece of shit tombstone they could locate). I hate that I want to drive over to the sister's house, who lives in Knoxville, and burn her fucking house to the ground. I hate that I want to gather up their mother's recipes, burn them to a crisp and mail her the ashes. That same hate goes for a set of clear glass serveware, only I want to mail it to her so busted up that it's back to sand. This serveware is so old that you can see tiny bubbles in the glass. There are other things I could destroy and mail the results of to her, but in the end, I don't want to hear shit from her, or the one that lives elsewhere.

I hate that my stomach cawls at what Jack's words were on the possibility of anyone going behind my back or his, and defying his burial wishes....I was instructed, in the event of defiance of his burial wishes, to dig up his urn and transfer it to MY family's graveyard (which is now severed). I hate that I don't have it in me to go and follow through with his wish. I mostly hate that after more than 16 years, his family still decided among themselves that I don't deserve being given any trust. I hate them, period. May they all freebase methane from a fresh cow queef, as far as I'm concerned.

Indeed, there is too much hate in the world. I should probably be ashamed for harboring this much hate, but I'm not. I feel like a dog that has been repeatedly smacked in the nose with a Sears and Roebuck catalog, blood has run down my face until I can taste it, and all I want to do is attack. I don't like feeling this way, at all. But, I especially don't like being shit on by others who say one thing at a funeral, and do plenty behind my back to make it where I never want to go around them ever again. I have no doubt that this was their plan, all along, but that doesn't make dealing with it any easier.

So here I sit in this tiny room with weekly rates, all of my estate in storage, miniscule money to my name, a vehicle that needs repair before leaving the state, and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sue me if you would feel any other way, or react differently, given the above matters of the black heart. I just can't come to terms with this, yet.

Yes, this is my Summer Of Loathe and I hate it. But, at least I told you the truth.

(*Update: I was unaware that Knoxville Pride was postponed until June 26. Not sure why. Still not going.)

RIP, Dad! Happy Fathers Day! Love you!

Jack, this photo is beyond awesome. Love you and miss you!!!!

Summer Of Loathe....