Killing Minderalla- unedited

It doesn’t take a very smart person to be able to tell how healthy a person is. A caring, well-tuned person can easily see it in the eyes of another- the hurt, the pain, the damage done by a loved one. I can’t help but wonder if my damages were revealed to Danny, that day, at Konkles Bar in the winter of 1999.

Throwing myself at Sarah's feet, as I seemed to do whenever a woman within my reach was in need, but having always been too ignorant to discern which ones were worthy, I hoped for a relationship with her.

Never mind that I was not emotionally healthy enough for one with anyone, for that matter. All I knew was, that I desperately needed a relationship of some sort, of any sort.

After having researched this, and, attributing my condition to not receiving any attention, affection or love from my own mother, is what gave me the wisdom needed to correct my path. I could see her but not touch her, like a carrot on a stick. 

She finished (Sarah) with me and tried to do some magic to rid her of me. This became clear one day when I was drawn to the room used as the library/study, where I snooped to find a book of Spells.

This book brought itself to my attention more than I searched for it, revealing what I needed to know. It wasn’t possible that she wanted me to learn what I had learned but I am still confused as to why she didn’t just ask me to be gone. 

At some point, in my refusal to read the writing on the wall, she called for a pizza, and, ended up seducing the poor schmo on the other end, in a last stitch effort to relay to me that she wasn’t interested. 

Eventually, I got it through my thick head, but by the time I had returned to McReynolds Street, it was too late. Bruce had blown the money I had left for the rent. 

On, what the money got spent on, I can only wonder.

Bruce’s only concerns were cheap beer and rolling tobacco so, how four hundred and fifty dollars ended up gone is still a mystery, and, though I am not interested- it’s a mystery just the same.

After escaping, I realized, what would later be recognized as a new beginning, with the end of her in my life entirely. Some time later, she would resurface in a junk store, on the west side of Grand Rapids, tempting my reality with her re-entry into it. 

After offering Sara one of the CD’s, that I was promoting at the time from my residual band, The Bandana Brothers, I never really thought of her again- until now.

At this point in my life, I had gotten through a lot of bad situations. These situations tempted my patience and willpower, and, my very life, reshaping my existence and potential future into the needs of the people I was surrounded with. 

The coke and degradation was an everyday thing, a re-run. It was like the movie “Groundhog Day,” with Bill Murray. Only, on one of those mornings that I had hoped to awaken in my death, I awoke to find Life, and fought back in a whole soul effort, and what I thought was, finally, meeting a female companion to help me to save me from my self. 

Little did I know, I was about to order a beer, and, meet someone who would prove to be the only good thing I had found in Grand Rapids since my selfish, arrogant, ignorant wife took my children, destroying my family empire, my identity, and, my heart, refocusing the sights of my reality to the bottom of a pit. 

The only things that I felt prevented me from killing her were my children and my love and grace. It’s been a bit of an unsettling thing to deal with. It is frightening even, when you come to learn how easy and instinctually familiar it is to you- seeing the images of the act of killing. And, seeing yourself handling the body, feeling the various sensations from the emotions, from the exertion, the sting of the sweat in your eye, the smells of bodily discharges, and, a smell like wet rusty steel. 

And there is the splattering and taste of the blood- like copper, the stickiness of it on your hands and between your fingers. And then, the sensation of it as it cools and the water moisture evaporates, causing it to thicken in a short time. And then, there are all of the ways of disposing of it or of them, cutting it up on a band saw after having had it in a freezer for some period of time. And then, the burning of it, dumping the ashes in the river or even, a blow to the head that would indicate a slip and fall that resulted in drowning while they may have been hanging out on the river, alone, while extremely intoxicated. 

Then there is always the old way, feeding the pieces to some pigs or the dogs. And then, my favorite sensation: the feeling of my hands around her throat, the sounds of her last struggle, the feeling of her body twitching and finally going limp as her head changes in form, from round to flattened on the backside, becoming softened as I repeatedly pound it on the pavement like it’s a coconut and it’s all I have to use to stop the Earth from spinning.

These are all very dark images, I am well aware. The funny thing is that I even imagined my imprisonment for the crime/s. No part of it bothered me any more than my usual nightmares I have. These thoughts had become to be, just another thought playing on another of the multiple theater screens playing in my head. It was, just another day that I had to live through. And, out of all that I have lived through, been through, and was forced to endure, it would be learned that this would have all been expected. 

These images really paled in comparison to my nightmares. But who was I to interrupt her fate in my hands by resisting? 

Well, I have not always felt that I had a purpose, a gift, or a calling in Life on Earth. No matter if I have found it or not, I do not want my donations to Humankind to be ignored or rejected by something as petty and as self serving as satisfying an itch for wrath on such a deserving individual. It was only because of the Children, that I didn’t do it. Had I done this terrible thing, they would have hated me, but had she never given birth, this would never have been a torture that I had to feel. I accept, that I’ll never be given credit for my restraint, but a large part of me would like to hear a “thank you” and an apology. One I do not expect in any foreseeable future.... Mindy.

Other than that, I really have no concerns. And, with nothing to lose, I am going out fighting.

[“Die With Your Boots On.” Iron Maiden]

As for you- Minderella,
I only Hope Cody could learn the truth before he furthers his decisions at the lie of a life you have subjected him to. Thank God Scarlett is on a good path- yet... Cody is my only son. And, you have condemned him in my stead. For that, you will be reprimanded. Peter should feel lucky that I have not sued you for the very many things people get sued for. You have no money due to abandoning the suit against the trucking company. You hired my custody battle lawyer, while she worked for me- to file divorce against me. She is also liable. 

I was never to blame for your decisions. You abandoned me when I could not care for myself.
That has to be the biggest Marital Violation a person could make.
Happy Mothers Day.

A Recent Dream... or was it a Prophecy?

A Dream? 05-07-19

It was early morning or was it evening, the ominous sky made it hard to tell. Sunlight seemed to pierce the dense clouds… Was it rising or setting? Rain sprinkled down in short bursts, as if someone was vigorously shaking the trees, freeing the gently clinging droplets like cherries – deeply reddened; over-ripe.

The building, houses, chimneys and limbs from what preservation of trees there were (and lack of light), made for us to have to crouch low to the ground in order to service the engine on the antique trash pump. This pump was a gift for various reasons. It had been stored for 15 years. It was presumed that the ownership would prove to be temporary – We will see.

The basement was filling with water, submerging the mechanical for the well. We were in a hurry, but the fuel system failed… and time ticked on as water continued to slowly fill the room. Crouching around the machine, we removed the air filter cover to get to the carburetor. As if by magic, the cover raised from where it had been laid (the ghost that haunts me?), only to hover in the area I worked on the engine. Was I under so much stress that I was imagining this? 

Out of desperation to continue and not to alarm Julie, I said nothing; moving it out of the way. Had she noticed? 

Just as I wondered if it was my imagination, the cover raised again! Julie still said nothing – blinded or in disbelief, or was she even still there to see?

I never looked over my shoulder. 

Again the part rose up to the motor, almost as if I asked it to in order to hold screws?

An invisible helper? 

I moved it again. Several more times, this part annoyed me – to the point of anger and frustration. Moving it farther away, I continued working on the pump. And then I felt words for a sentence in my mind: Fine, if you don’t want my assistance, you may become destroyed.”

Just then, there was a rumble in an upward distance in my mind and I panicked. Unbelievable! How could I get so deep with trouble here? The well, the sump, the pump – What did I sign up for? 

The Evil that seems to lurk here! I can feel it all of the time. The harder I try, the more fighting I can feel against me. My face is literally bruised with the blows from the dark world and demons. Is this one of them? Looking skyward, I saw a red meteor or comet hurling towards me. There was a trail of smoke, and its surface was dark red, mottled with blackness between the flames: as I searched for a place to hide, it was too late. Just then, I awoke in a sweat. It was just a dream or was it? Or is there an Angel trying to tell me that they will help, if I let them?