Jack's Twisted Kingdom
2009-04-27 07:33:31 (UTC)

Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt?

My grandpapa called me today, out of the blue. well. not
really, being it really close to my birthday, he asked me
how I was doing, and seeing if I was being the same screw-up
I've always been. I told him no. Why ruin the illusion hmm?
So, he's sending me a card probably filled with a check, and
some, nominal, salutation in recognition of it being yet
another passing of my birthday. to say nothing of the
fact that it's been 6 months since my mother died, and I
haven't tried to call in nearly a month. Last time I called,
I asked my step-grandmother various things, and of course,
got the same "he can't hear you, he'd deaf in one ear, we're
fine", kind of meandering bullshit line I always get... the
gatekeeper, she does a fairly good job at it.

It'd be nice if they asked me what I wanted for my birthday,
the answer, as it almost always is, is a book, I'm not as
mercurial as I often come across. Sure, I'll spend the $200
they send, but it'd be nice if I got, something, personal. A
book, a CD I want from overseas, maybe a new black jean
jacket, or you know, some small acknowledgment of the fact
that they pay some attention to me. but, that is asking for
far too much it seems. I was wondering if either would call
and ask me if they still had the right address, and wondered
still if I'd turned off my landline if they'd bother to call
Bev and ask her. To be honest, I'm not even sure if they
have my cel number. I suppose I should email it to them.

Well, suffice to say, you can get everything you want, and
find it's still not enough. I think I could survive on less,
and be happy, in fact I'm sure of it. My laptop, some
clothes, Eve, my bike, my car. A few carefully chosen books,
those specifically I own that are signed by the author, of
which I have several, and all hold a certain. certain.
memory. I have almost nothing that is more than 10 years
old, in fact. If I were to think hard on it, the Cutthroat
Island banner I carry with me everywhere I go, the small
Death (Sandman) statuette, the watch with death on the face
of it, and the keychain I have. They're all the remnants I
own that are of a signifigant age. A few, photo's, a handful

I have few ties to the past. I find it abhorrent that my
father was born in the same place I so loathe to return to,
while I was born in the place I yearn so very much to return
to. I find my own past to be laced with vinegar, and vile
wretched memories, with few respites thrown in. But that is
the way of things. One could hope to change things, but,
methinks until I'm done doing what I've set myself on the
path of, I won't be able return to those. happier times.

Caveat Emptor. that is the lesson. no one remembers the
price you paid, only that in the end, the cost is always
higher than you can afford.