I need to post here more, or get rid of this domain. I mean, really. It’s like $15 a year now, and I don’t feel like I’m getting a dollar a month of value out of it.
Also, I need to fix this theme.
The “friend” of eight years who found time in his busy Japanese vacation to throw me under a bus while claiming to be “very worried” about me, still hasn’t contacted me.  He’s had months to demonstrate his concern for someone other than himself.
Tony is clearly just another piece of shit that I mistook for a friend. Sadly I seem to have made this error repeatedly amongst my so-called friends, who see fit to refer to people who slander me as having “good intent”.
I hope I have finally learned not to trust anyone with anything.
Friend of eight years took the time last week to send an e-mail to fifteen people (none of which was me, however) from Japan, in which he throws me under a bus while claiming to be “very worried” about me.
He’s been back in the states 5 days now at least, I haven’t heard a word from him.
Came and went. Nobody remembered with the following exceptions:
- Out In America:Â Their computer remembered.
- Mother: After three or four years, she emails to say she is concerned. But still does not respond to mails sent back.
- Father: Called to complain. Entirely anticipated.
This year none of my friends remarked upon it, and neither did TMIB. I mostly don’t care. Mostly. Still, it’s sort of a milestone age and nobody remembering feels like coming fate for my older age.
There are at this point, no photos of me as a child. It’s not that there weren’t any taken, but it’s something my father confiscated as a way to be spiteful to my mother in the divorce. All I have now are some memories, and very few at that. I had considered trying to scan some of the photos when I was on better terms with him, but I never got around to it and at this point I’m seriously thinking I’m done with him for good.
I think they’d jog some memories loose though. For that, I wish I could have gotten another look at them when it was theoretically possible.
In the time before my memory begins, I had acquired a set of wooden rods that were part of a set that came with a wagon. Playskool I think it was. I can’t be sure anymore, as my father confiscated all the photos in the divorce to spite my mother, and they have not been seen since. The blocks were basically large dowels painted various colors. It seems that I was particularly partial to the purple one, which I used to bash the top of one of my mother’s end tables. She referred to it by name as The Purple Block. Was it a sign that the first favorite toy was purple?
The purple block was lost many years ago, also probably around the time of my parents divorce. This site is a place where I’m going to try and remember my past and write it down, before I can’t remember anything.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purple#Sexuality