Worthless Children

Thanks to 70's women's magazine feminism Mother realised she didn't need to ruin my childhood in person and using an airplane as her getaway vehicle, left the burden to Father, who did the work of two parents in this regard, terrorising us like a true penal colony prison guard. The despair continued  until I answered back one extra black day, inspiring him to deliver a character assassination speech that destroyed what was probably my soul. He then kicked me out of the house and offered me cutlery. I declined as I didn't feel deserving of knives and forks for some reason.

Life on the Outside consisted of drinking heavily to mask my phobia about communicating using just my personality, as Father's many long speeches had me believing I was an unsightly coldsore full of lies about not being a pus bubble. I also drank because I'm a people person who loves taking a short break from sparkling conversation to go vomit in a piss-spattered cubicle. And people wonder why I everything. There needs to be a joke here, but there is no joke, there is only pain.

I would hear back that Father was hurt his boys only called to brag about their achievements, which is weird because I recall being too scared to raise my voice unless I'd won a prize or some shit, knowing that I would be shot down anyway or even be met with the epic silence of the control freak who can't process his children's achievements.

The good news is once us two older boys were gone from the house the youngest copped three whole sons worth of hate fired into his 16 year old heart. What a lucky boy and if he ever recovers I'll...cheer up.

So anyway when I was 27 I began my proper decline into mental illness, in no small part because everyone always said my father was A Great Guy. For a while I sort of wandered around being crazy until I couldn't take it anymore and.... made the decision to call my father. We moved into a small flat together so I could relive my childhood, with him delivering epic speeches about my obvious and sad worthlessness. It wasn't all bad, I got to work in a kitchen as an underpaid dishwasher and imagine dealing with being on the bottom rung of the shit ladder for ten more years. Wrong! It was fifteen!

(Actually it was more but I don't want to be a Debbie Downer.)

     






    

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hotdog Warlord

Image
  I was getting mad that the Wagner boss who seems to have attempted a coup in Russia is being called the “hotdog warlord”. Once upon a time he had a hotdog stand and I was displeased by what I saw as middle class wankers having one of their little laughs at such a working class activity. I was right that they are laughing, but I was wrong about what they were laughing at, which was of course hotdogs. In my rush to always shit on anyone in a suit, in an office, their pretentiousness and out of touchness, it was I who was out of touch, because hotdogs are funny. Sometimes people are just having a laugh. I don’t have to jump down their throats. I could try chilling out to be honest. Hotdog Warlord. How did I not reckon that was funny? What a humorless lefty piece of shit I am. What a terribly earnest party pooper. What a fuckin killjoy. I should be sent to the work camps in Siberia. I should be on a list. I should be transported to Australia and flogged with a cat’o’nine tails. In the 90
Read more

The Exciting Apple Vision Pro

Apple has an embarrassing new product that over-affluent parents are desperate to get their hands on. It’s a headset for looking at videos, that you control with your eyeballs! It’s also goggles you wear to watch the videos you made while it was on your head earlier- before the divorce- and it takes you back to those precious moments? Because the same thing is on your head? Imagine being reminded that you lost your kids because you were a too cashed up nerd, every time you look at a video of your children. Who don’t love you anymore. I joke, because I irrationally hate, but a Youtube guy who tried out this gadget was seriously excited about collecting memories with his child. Yes, bro, they grow up so fast, so strap a shame thing onto your face and gather up all those images of your child becoming increasingly alienated from you because the only part of your face they can see is your weird smile. Your strange techno smile. Your disturbing, self satisfied shitty lips. Your weird fucked
Read more

Fuck, Dude

I am listening to Morbid Angel’s Altars of Madness.  The other week the doctors told me I have diabetes, which is awesome, because I thought I had cancer. And diabetes just means I have to ease up on sugar and sugar’s for kids anyway. And you might think I’m being flippant or glib or blase, or immature, or in denial, but diabetes? Is that all? I’m not saying I deserve more, but can I humbly suggest I’ve put the work in over the decades? I’ve had a bottle, can or glass in one or both of my hands at every social situation I’ve ever been to. I’ve lost count of the panic attacks I’ve had walking into a people event and trying to look like I’m not sprinting toward the bar for the debilitating assistance of boozcohol.  There’s a lot of shit I wouldn’t have done if I didn’t drink so much, however I wouldn’t have drinked so much if I had known I was autistic and I wouldn’t have been autistic if it wasn’t for those goddamned vaccines! Just joking, I won’t hear a word against vaccine programs, u
Read more