Blog Archives

Part 3... Chapter 24...Part 2…The End of 2009/10 & The Start of 2011…

17/5/2018

In 2009 He came over for dinner as planned after He had walked back into my life.
We talked and came to an agreement that He would stay over 2 nights a week and not hang around in the day but would help me with trivial things if needed when I was without a carer. I have full time carers so not much was really needed from Him. He needed somewhere to dump his ass, while looking for permanent accommodation and work. He ended up couching it at mine one to two nights more as the weeks pasted by.

Things worked out well until a shift in our orbit began to lure to the surface the power of collision between Venus and Mars. Our communication again started to become thinner and denser with no real meaning to the words being spoken. Our big bang happened faster than thoughts bouncing into my thinking. My instincts months before knew that what we were trying to do wasn’t going to last for long.

He started to work for me back as the cellar man. It didn’t last before I had to find someone else to take over. I asked a few people if they wanted the job but had no takers. I didn’t advertise in the local job centre or paper because I wanted to know and trust the person I was taking on. I knew that was going to be a challenge as most of the people I had in mind were as thick as pig shite, on all levels. And friends, well, don't get me started...
.

To employ a stranger and not be on the premises to vet didn’t feel right, I felt more relaxed employing someone I knew even if they were dull. Then lo and behold in a sudden turn of events someone who had worked with me at the Office Pub was keen to enquire about the vacancy of which he took. What I hadn’t done was check out if he was capable, by asking a few people about him as I hadn’t seen him around for a while. Well, fuking stone a crows, what a total fuked up muppet he was and probably still is.

I had known this fuk up or boy mores to the point, for some time and thought he would pass the test of trust. Fuk me, what a mistake that was. Before I go any further I shall call him, ‘Stoner Hat’.
Stoner Hat had no knowledge of cellar operations so before my EX had left for good He promised He would teach Stoner Hat the ropes, until he was mentally in tune with the do’s and don’ts…

Once achieved I called on my Polish friends a few times to carry me in my chair up the stairs of Crowleys, so I could keep an eye on Stoner Hats capabilities and skills as a manager regarding customers relations, cleanliness in himself and how he kept my business in ship shape order.
This was also my reason for doing so…Stock orders given to me stated the required amount, but the business cash flow was diminishing fast with no reason as to why from the boy I call Stoner Hat but have now changed it to ‘the Boy’.

Buzzfeeds like dragged up phlegm from the back of the throat headed towards me thick and fast from every mouth that held a spoon to stir the shit that had been whispered.
Fingers tapping words on the phone faster than they could be spoken. Suddenly people remembered I had a phone number still in use. It was like I had become a celebrity in every twats gormless existence.

The rumour mill was printing fast, so fast people were spitting out words of many tales about my Bar. The gossip being voiced out poured like this... It's an open drugs den... it's lock in party time... it's sex on the pool table... it's, it's... my Ex parading around like a pissed peacock with His new fancy or fancies, and we’re not talking cakes with afternoon tea here.
Even my ex-husband and his wife who work in the take-away beneath Crowley’s Bar have seen Him outside with a beaming smile, although I feel it’s being fuelled by alcohol and helping Him hide His true reality.

His lies. Why I ask myself? Why lie to me when there is no need to? He is a free man to go with whom-ever He may choose. That was made clear, but as soon as I found out about them sitting in ‘My Bar’, my head just couldn’t deal with that so He and She were banned, whoever She maybe.

More stories kept flowing my way telling me who He had sex with while He was with me and working on the door at Crowleys long before the accident happened.
He has been - so I'm told - with two ex-friends of mine and possibly more since I kicked Him out. One of them used to work for me at Crowleys Bar that He swore He hated with a passion as she was, in His words... 'A piss 'ed and local bike with most of your customers'.
I had a one night stand with her when we were in our 20s, I've named her Herpes somewhere in my diary, I need say no more as to why that given name suits her. Shame it's not on her birth certificate.
His other easy promise was with a girl He started sharing accommodation with, a girl I rented my flat out to until she and her partner split. When she left, she left with dept owing on the utilities. A girl I call the 'Punky Dwarf', she played a part at one of my Fetish Nights... Well, everyone loves a freak...

The deal I had with Him claiming my sofa was to help me if needed. I lost count of how many times I needed help and ask Him but I got sweet FA. One time in particular when I was ill in bed with a UTI, my catheter got blocked (story of my life) and I ended up laying in my own piss. I phoned Mr Cunt to come and help me wash & change plus the bed needed changing.

His answer...
'Do you really need me right now? I've just left the job centre and I have made plans, don't you have a carer coming at lunch?

Another time was when I wanted my car back outside my house as it did belong to me and 'I' had made 'plans', for the following day (a Sunday) so I messaged Him about it...

His answer...
'I'm out of town'.

I had to asked Him to leave my life once again and never come back. We had run out of words to execute with spit and dribble in any attempt of arguing and my respect for Him was on par with a hungry tiger, saying yeah sure I ain’t going to hurt you, but I do advise you to run.
I looked at Him straight in the eye and calmly put it to Him for the second time, ‘You did this to me... You done it’.
I don’t think I blinked, and I unquestionably know He didn’t. I remember it so clearly, Him just staring back at me from the landing as I sat in my chair in the bedroom door way.
His answer back was just a blank, lost stare, just like the first time I challenged a response. He chewed on His nails with a facial expression looking like His brain was trying to scramble some fine words together to retort.
I told Him He had three days to get His belongings out of My house or they will be on the street for anyone to claim.

Crowleys reputation was going down the swanny. It was joining the list of my many heart breaking snares. More rumours this time of the toilets not being clean, warm off-tasting beer, a sticky bar with fruit flies around the pumps and feet being glued to the floor as soon as you stepped over from the carpeted entrance.

My baby, my life, my name Crowley. Crowleys Rock Bar was turning into a dirty late-night pit stop for all piss ‘eds, and with so many of my regular customers moving on to fresher beer with better clientele, it was soul destroying for this cripple.

I used to polish those wooden floor tiles every day until they sparkled like ice. The Brasso would come out to play and polish all brass pumps and anything else that was brass. Hot soapy water was used to clean all spirit bottles. Fridges always had to be wiped down, I bloody hated finger prints and smudges on the glass, and each bottle within them had to have front facing labels of each brand. Toilets, as old as they were, were clean enough you could eat your dinner off them. The whole place was loved and cared for by me and it was coming true that it was only me, that made Crowleys Rock.

Inside I was dying with anger, para frustration and so much hate I wanted to kill the Ex and the Boy for serving my EX and disrespecting me and my business… friends for not being friends...It was time my voice spoke louder than thunder...

I had to investigate what the fuk was making my ratings go down. With my customers finding elsewhere to quench their dying thirst it was breaking me. With everything I have done to help SO many people they are all treating me like shit, kicking me when I’m already down and looking upon me as nothing worthy of respect since I became a ‘Disabled Figure’ to them.

On my last check up in Crowleys, it was a quiet night but with a constant flow of one beer walk-in’s which left minimal work to do but work none-the-less. The Boy was stoned to fuk, showing his true signs of a lazy good for nothing little prick. Customers came in and waited seconds longer than needed before being noticed and served. I wanted to punch him.

Once they had left there is an empty glass waiting to be picked up, washed and put back on the shelf for the next paying customer. I lost count how many times I had to tell the Boy to fetch the glass and put a full tray into wash, before I smashed one in his face. That really, really did explode a reaction from me. A few days after that he quit, his reason being it was all too much for him. This fuking ass waffle is a total fukup for now and evermore.

1 Comment

Part 3…Chapter 24… Part 1… 2011…

6/5/2018

1 Comment

I light 3 candles and burn a Nag Champa incense stick. Reach for a crystal tumbler, grab my poison and wipe the dust away to reveal its label before I twist the top to allow the genie in the bottle its escape. My oldest, longest best friend when I need one, the forever faithful Jack Daniels.
A large measure, and holding the glass in close I look down into its temptation. It’s funny when we know that what we are about to do will bring penalties to pay the next day, but to that we say, ‘FUK IT. I NEED TIME OUT OF THIS REALITY RIGHT NOW. NOT TOMORROW OR THE DAY AFTER, IT DIDN’T COME OUT TO PLAY YESTURDAY. IT’S COMING OUT TO PLAY TONIGHT’!!! AAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!

The glass touched my lips. I closed my eyes and shot the lot down too quick to even give it time to coat the sides of my mouth, but gentle enough to feel its warm hello slide down my throat. Followed by another and another, and another, intoxicating my mind with, 'SO MUCH SHIT BECAUSE MY LIFE IS SHIT AND WHEN SHIT IS ALL YOU HAVE THEN SHIT IS ALL YOU FUKING THINK ABOUT'!!!

I sit here rubbing my finger and thumb over the pentagram I wear around my neck, with thoughts in candle light accompanied with the great Roman God Bacchus, drinking his merry wine (JD on this occasion). In my own ritual of madness, we are joined by Diana Goddess of the hunt, ruler of the moon, as the Hindu God Ganesh remover of obstacles attempts to have his say before Shiva butts in to destroy it all. The debate within me and the input from JD keeps taking my thoughts around and around on the never-ending hamster wheel...
Maybe, I will rise from the ashes like the phoenix or stay on the wheel like the hamster and just keep going around and around in this black hole of lost depression ...

I’m going to pour another shot and roll a tardy carpet of green… Me and JD are doing ok, me and my spelling not so, again I thank Microsoft for spell correction. I did start writing with Pen but had to abort and start on the old PC. My mind is working but my vision with pen and paper in candle light isn’t. I know, I could put the lights on, but I don’t want the fuking lights on. I’m liking the dancing shadows on the walls from the candle light. I put some sounds on and then turned them off because I’m liking the voices in my head and the shadows on the wall…

‘His’ heart is so small it pains me, and the meaning of friendship pains me more.
My She Devil is back within me under the stars, my body is airborne being rotated by the majestic, magnetic powers of the Gods that be. I’m finding my strength to hate from their dark side…
God, give my chariot wings now I’m stuck on this earth and bring on the fight with the White Angel.
Jesus our Father in Heaven can’t fix this now, not that he and his clang ever could, with me being Pagan an’ all. They just sit on the transparency of clouds watching us deplorable odious mortals fuk up our life…

I haven’t been able to hold my closest and most trusted friend Pen in my hand for many moons, give and take a phase. And on first try tonight I’m too pissed to hold it, loL.

I trust, I forgive, I adapt, but I never forget. I just can’t. That’s the hold life has over me and everybody I guess in one guise or another. It’s a journey we embrace that drives us insane. The past four years have been hard to describe how life is always raising my expectations to then watch them tumble down again. It’s a test I’m fed up of re-taking, a test that is always concealing something, but a test I will challenge until I expel my last breath…

I need to get out of this house. I want to run wild with the wolfs by my side to feel the freedom locked in my soul escape to find new ground, but I can’t.
I wish I could go back to sit on my bench at the top of Caswell woods. Watch the waves energy being chopped and tossed this way and that by the force of the wind from Mother Earth. While I join her by captivating a breath of her sweet salty sea breeze. My dog next to me as I puff me lungs good on a well merited Spliff.
But I can’t.

I wait night after night for a dream, but they never come they have long gone. The game is over now, and I really am on my own. I’m always sitting here looking for the answers one day at a time.
My heart wants to be free, but my mind gets in the way and the past won’t let go and He must know this. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen or heard from Him in over 18 months.

I never believed He wanted to marry me when I asked Him at Rookwood Hospital. I never believed that He was going to be with me to the end. I never believed He loved me months before the night always in question happened… But there we go. THINGS CAN ONLY GET BETTER, LOL…

The past 12 months have been, shall I say, the best explosion of gossip people were rushing out to hear, with a beer in one hand and a fag in the other, anxious to know the life of the cripple they haven't been arsed to visit but instead got enough juicy info from her drunken Ex's behavior.
Too many so-called close friends haven't bothered to come and see me, reply to my messages and I say ‘messages’, as I sent more than I can remember. Neither were my phone calls answered or returned.
Nobody has been strong willed enough to come and knock my door to ask if I was OK, physically, emotionally, mentally. Now I feel they can all rot in hell as I pour hot liquid lava over their miserable little brains.
The number of friends that have stayed with me since He left comes to the grand total of four and that includes my daughter.

This diary newsfeed is going to take a while, let’s hope my fingers have enough energy to type, my eye lids stay light enough to keep open and my mind doesn’t wonder off with Jack lol…

Two spliffs and a shot later I begin… and it goes a bit like this…

1 Comment