Hello, folks, it's been a while and unavoidably so, I must confess. My desktop computer followed the laptop into oblivion just eight days later (on July 13, 2013) due to a virus (no up to date protection) a hard drive formatting and a failure of a Windows XP disk to reload that operating program thus frustrating my efforts to reuse the desktop online. I cancelled my Internet service on July 15 and have had to use a local library computer to type this post. As a result of this technology SNAFU and a part time job that pays too little to get the laptop's damaged hard drive replaced, I will post here more infrequently than before - as if anyone cares. But with the birthday of a former friend turned enemy (or frenemy), or at least I see him as an enemy even if he doesn't realize it (being unconcerned about me in general as a facebook friend), on Thursday, I must vent long pent-up frustrations about how this former friend threw me under the bus (a popular political term meaning some political operative of the White House who becomes expendable to the President and his agenda) back about 27 years ago and subsequently temporarily won the heart of the lady who broke my heart with her rejection of me.
Back in 1989 I wrote an angry poem toward this woman ("I wish her dead") while the wounds were still relatively fresh after three years. Little did I realize my wish would come true one December night in 2004 when she was killed from a traffic accident. Lately, I've been thinking about wishing some others would die who wronged me back in high school, including the above mentioned frenemy and five of his social climbing associates who all had no use for me back then because I didn't like to drink and party like a fool (and was fat and socially awkward as a teenager) - the girl who broke my heart also hanged around with and in this crowd/clique. So, I now say to first to Gary, you piece of human debris, party animal, player/playboy, binge drinker, jogging fool (remember, running did nothing for Jim Fixx in the end too so far as health and long life was concerned), and OSU Leisure Studies major who lucked out into a sweet job (probably from frat house or other social connections), if you died tomorrow I wouldn't shed one bloody tear. And to your friends, Amanda, the Cindys (Ms. C and Mrs. C-P), Jaime (No 2) and especially old W. Shawn (your partner in drinking binges and parties as the perfect Yuppie of his time) who were also Holly's (may she rest in peace even after destroying my confidence to ever hardly try seeking a date again) friends and her classmates, you can all drop dead by whatever means God has chosen for your demises. You're dead to me already, what with your worldly successes and charmed lives coming from a town where too many people among the big shots believe themselves to be great and lacking any offensive body odors. I stop short of wishing you each to die (as I once did Holly, never imagining my wish would be granted 15 years later), but all six of you users and posers can shed your mortal coils just the same to my satisfaction. Savor the sweetness of your lives, foul children of undeserved privilege or accomplishment, because in the end death is the great equalizer and we all will meet God in the end.
Gary, you never deserved Holly even for the five years you dated her, she was better than you (regardless of what her parents think about you as a great person to this day), but in this imperfect world assholes finish first and the rest of us get ground into the dust. No matter how good everyone says she was and thinks of her memory, she will always remain the thing I saw in those photos of her on Facebook from the late 1980s - a party whore who may have been a genius (or good test taker) with a heart of gold, but to me she is a cruel heartbreaker that destroyed my limited confidence with approaching the opposite sex. Happy 45th Birthday, Mr. C, and don't let the doorway of mortality hit your ass too hard on the way to oblivion.
Back in 1989 I wrote an angry poem toward this woman ("I wish her dead") while the wounds were still relatively fresh after three years. Little did I realize my wish would come true one December night in 2004 when she was killed from a traffic accident. Lately, I've been thinking about wishing some others would die who wronged me back in high school, including the above mentioned frenemy and five of his social climbing associates who all had no use for me back then because I didn't like to drink and party like a fool (and was fat and socially awkward as a teenager) - the girl who broke my heart also hanged around with and in this crowd/clique. So, I now say to first to Gary, you piece of human debris, party animal, player/playboy, binge drinker, jogging fool (remember, running did nothing for Jim Fixx in the end too so far as health and long life was concerned), and OSU Leisure Studies major who lucked out into a sweet job (probably from frat house or other social connections), if you died tomorrow I wouldn't shed one bloody tear. And to your friends, Amanda, the Cindys (Ms. C and Mrs. C-P), Jaime (No 2) and especially old W. Shawn (your partner in drinking binges and parties as the perfect Yuppie of his time) who were also Holly's (may she rest in peace even after destroying my confidence to ever hardly try seeking a date again) friends and her classmates, you can all drop dead by whatever means God has chosen for your demises. You're dead to me already, what with your worldly successes and charmed lives coming from a town where too many people among the big shots believe themselves to be great and lacking any offensive body odors. I stop short of wishing you each to die (as I once did Holly, never imagining my wish would be granted 15 years later), but all six of you users and posers can shed your mortal coils just the same to my satisfaction. Savor the sweetness of your lives, foul children of undeserved privilege or accomplishment, because in the end death is the great equalizer and we all will meet God in the end.
Gary, you never deserved Holly even for the five years you dated her, she was better than you (regardless of what her parents think about you as a great person to this day), but in this imperfect world assholes finish first and the rest of us get ground into the dust. No matter how good everyone says she was and thinks of her memory, she will always remain the thing I saw in those photos of her on Facebook from the late 1980s - a party whore who may have been a genius (or good test taker) with a heart of gold, but to me she is a cruel heartbreaker that destroyed my limited confidence with approaching the opposite sex. Happy 45th Birthday, Mr. C, and don't let the doorway of mortality hit your ass too hard on the way to oblivion.