I could get the Porcellinos and the Van Scivers to come stay the same week. I could get John Kinhart to come and document the whole deal. Get Joe Matt to start a residency here so he wouldn’t have to pay rent. We could have guests teach classes or make videos while they are here. James Romberger could show us all how to paint. We could have a Birdcage Bottom ‘reunion’ and celebrate life with food and drink. I’ll think about it.
That’s the thing about ending a relationship, especially one that lasted as long as ours. You weren’t happy to begin with, and then the whole process of ending things is unhappy, and then you find yourself anxious about the future and you wonder if you could, or even want to, find happiness with someone else. It sucks because I was always the thoughtful one in this relationship. She will isolate herself for sometimes weeks on end without giving a thought about the house, the pets, and even the kids. She would vehemently deny all this of course if confronted by a stranger or a friend, and she would be mad that I put it out there, but she can’t escape the truth. It doesn’t matter, though. She hasn’t ever visited this website, and the truth is, she doesn’t read my comics. I had to damn near force her to read “Kmart Shoes” back in 2013 and she read “Blood and Drugs” after everyone else who read it started raving about it. Whatever. That is just one of the plethora of things that made me realize I was with the wrong person. She feels the same way. I am no prize according to her. I am fat and bald. But especially fat. She has always hated ‘fat’. The kind of person that makes fun of fat people, and peoples looks in general, really. When I had my heart attacks and became disabled, I really started packing on the weight. Then I tried a crash diet and all I did was make my fat gut even bigger and more misshapen and it lead to sever health problems with my kidneys and joints. Oh well. It is what it is. I’ve made peace with my life and myself, except the weight. Believe me, when she leaves, I am going to change my whole lifestyle. Get back to the way I used to be before I met her. I rode bike and worked out. I ate healthy and I was really active. I went without food sometimes and was okay with it. I don’t get ‘hangry’. Anyway, here is a another diary comic from 2009.
She really is. She wants the life that she always dreamed about, and it doesn’t include me or the house and all of it’s many responsibilities like the pets and the day to day bullshit. I get it. She has always wanted it to be “her way” and she has been unhappy for years having to be disappointed in her life and her family. I was unhappy as well because I had a partner who, instead of making peace with the way life is, decided to pull back from that which she no longer has any interest in, like an old basement bathroom that you are tired of having to clean so you just give up on it all together. You still use it, but it just gets filthier and even more disgusting, reinforcing the very apathy that lead to the neglect in the first place. The bathroom being me and most of the house in general. So I get it, and instead of prolonging the misery for us and the now grown Henry, we have come to an agreement. She is going to get her dream apartment right by work as she can afford a really nice place, and I will stay in the house and that will be that. Of course, I will have to get a real job. Despite my productivity, wealth eludes me and I don’t make shit. So I can almost afford to stay here, but not quite. I can’t stand on my crippled leg for too long and I live with 24/7 pain, but I am sure I can find an easy job that won’t numb my mind. More to follow. In the meantime, here is a diary comic from 2009(!) describing our dysfunctional relationship. Nothing has changed, is only gotten darker and colder.
Finally! It’s been coming for a long time. We tried, we really did, but it just wasn’t to be. We wanted to wait until Henry was done with school but as we see the finish line less than a year away, I think we are both tired of waiting. He’s almost 18 and far wiser beyond his years than I was for sure and he lives right in the middle of Dysfunction Junction so this is of no surprise. What am I going to do you ask? I don’t know. I don’t make shit for money so I will need a roommate probably or some kind of room for rent for a little while anyway. I have a small dog which complicates things, but he’s not going anywhere.
I haven’t posted much because I haven’t wanted to talk about much. Once again, for the hundredth time, it’s my marriage. Man, it seems like I write about how shit my relationship is every fucking year. You know why? Because I do. Because it’s fake, it has been for over a dozen years, and it’s getting to me.