I'm not exactly sure how to put all this, because it's just been formulating in my mind over the last few minutes. But...
I see men my age, mid to late 30's, and they look like they're 55. I see them at jobs they clearly hate. I see them driving trucks they can't afford, driving to homes that have them in debt until at least the age of 70, going home to wives who don't love them and never will, no matter how hard they work or how many sacrifices they make.
No wonder they look old already.
I'm shocked when I see how closely I came to that. How lucky I am to be divorced, to have gotten off the hook so easily.
So many of the great ills of humanity- war, famine, industrialization, overpopulation- have been caused either in whole or in part by a man trying to win the favor of a woman. Yet- we take the blame for all of it. Nevermind that a man never wanted to start a war or build a factory simply for his own satisfaction- it always comes down to wanting to impress, provide for, or otherwise please a woman. But when it's time to lay blame for the disastrous results, it's a man every time who goes to the gallows.
I've seen it in my own community- the constant reminders that "women are sacred", and the unspoken insinuation that men are not. The laughter that follows a man's mistakes and the gentle support that follows a woman's. The idea that a woman is worth more because she is able to bear children. This, THIS is what it is to be a Native man- it's not all horses and spears. We who were once the proud hunters and fighters of the plains and woodlands and coasts have been reduced to nothing more than very large children- and it's because we've allowed our women unrestricted access to our lives.
In the name of "women's liberation", we have allowed the rights of men to be trampled and disregarded. When men have needed support the very most- such as the post-war period after the Vietnam conflict- women were the least available to us, leaving us to our own devices and in fact telling us over and over again that we were unnecessary, unwanted and abusive. Way to kick us when we're down, ladies. And you wonder why you can't find a good man? As a product of that post-Vietnam, women's-lib generation I can tell you that you have nearly bred "good" men out of existence by feminizing them to the point of being nearly indistinguishable from women. Yes! Other than physically, men have been forced to be almost exactly the same as their women. Do the same things, say the same things, work the same jobs, go the same places. Every time I see a man holding his woman's purse, I want to smack him in the face just to wake him up. She's testing you, man! She's pushing her boundaries and breaking down yours. Have some goddamn self-esteem! Hold your head up!
We die younger, we have a higher incidence of heart attacks, we're more likely to suffer horrible work- or war-related injuries. Oh, but that's alright, because we make a higher income, right? Yeah, except we're spending that money on our wives and the children our wives pushed us into having, often by sabotaging their own birth control- an act that is more "rape" than any act of rape ever perpetrated upon the body of a woman. The amount of actual income an average man is able to spend on HIMSELF is alarmingly low- so low that if we were to be judged by that portion of our income alone, we'd be in deeper poverty than a Darfur war orphan.
Come to think of it, maybe that's an explanation as to why I see men in shiny new F-150 pickup trucks, wearing the rattiest, nastiest t-shirt you can imagine... they can't afford a 3-pack of Hanes t-shirts at Wal-Mart because of the debt they're saddled with paying for that truck, a mortgage on a house much larger and newer than they need, and an average of $20,000 in credit card debt- all because he wanted to impress a woman and make her think he was a good provider.
Considering all that, if it were me, I might wanna watch football too. Just for the escape. If I was in their position, I might drink too much, cheat on my wife, and do anything else just to make myself feel for even a few fleeting moments that I was an individual, that I had some semblance of freedom and that I could make choices affecting the course of my own destiny.
Really. I said it before but it bears saying again- I got off so fucking lucky. I've been divorced twice, the first time because I deserved it, but the second time was more an act of mercy. I didn't see it that way at first- I railed against it, I wanted her back, I was devastated. But more than two years later, I realize the great gift I received the day my wife left. Not to say she's a bad person, she isn't. But I have reemerged into this world, reborn, with my dignity and self-respect intact, and still young enough to enjoy the freedoms of this world before I die and return to the soil that bore me.
I'm 37 years old, I don't own a car or a house, I don't have a legitimate job, I have no credit cards and I've only had a bank account for a bit longer than a year- I barely use it. I don't smoke, I don't do drugs, I exercise regularly and I eat pretty good. I have the absolute adoration and respect of a three year old daughter. I'm in the best physical condition I've ever been in, and I've never been happier than I am right now. I have these gifts because at several points in my life, I was brave enough to tell a woman to go fuck herself, that I wasn't going to try to impress her anymore and that I was going to live my life on my terms.
Men, you need to stand up for yourselves. Stop being the bitch. Put on the pants and be the man you were born to be.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
New Website!
Today, my new website www.fencepostmachines.com launched. I'm excited about it, because I'm hoping it'll give my machine customers a more streamlined, efficient way of seeing what I have available for sale as well as getting in touch with me for parts, repairs, rebuilds or anything else they need.
Please take a look at the site and if you have any advice or criticism, let me know.
Please take a look at the site and if you have any advice or criticism, let me know.
Monday, August 22, 2011
A few thoughts.
I'm actually glad to be heading back to Oklahoma today. "Welcome to the Gates of Hell", my friend said as she dropped me off at the airport where I'd begin my journey back to OKC. Well, if hell awaits me, then bring that shit on. I have evolved- or perhaps declined- to the point of openly welcoming the loneliness, anger, pain and worry that make up my life in the strange land where I make my home. My first few days back in OKC are gonna hurt, and I can't fucking wait. Bring me the agony.
____________________________
In a couple more generations, we're all going to be girls. The breakdown of Manhood is THAT complete. We won't even be Women, because Men and Women cannot exist in the absence of one another. We'll all just be girls- obsessed with clothes, pop culture, and designer sunglasses.
It's happening.
______________________________
I didn't have a childhood- I had a case history. I had no elders, no real role models to speak of. Who I am today is something I myself had to forge through fire and pain and blood- only some of it my own.
_______________________________
Social networking sites have made everyone into a pseudo-celebrity. The Facebook Famous, reporting the oh-so-glamorous minutae of their typical suburbanite wage-slave lives. "OMG we got so drunk lololol", they proclaim- adding nothing to the collective human intellect but certainly not taking much away from it, either.
Please surrender your brains. You've violated the Terms of Service.
____________________________
In a couple more generations, we're all going to be girls. The breakdown of Manhood is THAT complete. We won't even be Women, because Men and Women cannot exist in the absence of one another. We'll all just be girls- obsessed with clothes, pop culture, and designer sunglasses.
It's happening.
______________________________
I didn't have a childhood- I had a case history. I had no elders, no real role models to speak of. Who I am today is something I myself had to forge through fire and pain and blood- only some of it my own.
_______________________________
Social networking sites have made everyone into a pseudo-celebrity. The Facebook Famous, reporting the oh-so-glamorous minutae of their typical suburbanite wage-slave lives. "OMG we got so drunk lololol", they proclaim- adding nothing to the collective human intellect but certainly not taking much away from it, either.
Please surrender your brains. You've violated the Terms of Service.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
From Olympia, With Love
I've been here in Olympia, Washington for about 5 days now, and it's been great. First of all, the shop I'm working at (Inklife Tattoo) is incredible. I've often felt like a square peg in a round hole at a lot of shops where I've worked; I've often felt I didn't fit in, usually because of the weak, bullshit approach to life and business that those people had. With this crew, I just automatically clicked with everybody and really genuinely enjoy spending time around them. And the money is there. So that's good.
But of course more importantly- at least to me- it's great to be home. I grew up here, in Washington. As soon as I landed on the flight from OKC to Seattle, I could feel the change. The air is different here, full of possibilities and ideas and new life. Walking outside becomes a reawakening. Every tree I see is like an old friend I haven't seen in years, it's all so familiar yet at the same time it's fresh to me and I have a new found appreciation for this place that I didn't really have when I lived here before. Like, I didn't really realize what I had until I lost it.
It's strange, too, what Washington does for my attitude. I'm friendlier here. I am in my element; I want to be nice to people, I want to speak to strangers, I honestly enjoy looking people in the eye and smiling at them here. In Oklahoma, I endure others. Here, I see them as potential allies.
The earth seems more fertile here than it does in Oklahoma. It seems ripe and lush. I tell everyone who will listen, Oklahoma is not my homeland. Oklahoma is where Cherokee people were sent to die. We surprised everyone by not only surviving, but thriving. Oklahoma is not my home. My home is anywhere and nowhere. I view the house I live in as little more than a tent- just a temporary spot to put my stuff.
I sometimes wonder if I would be better served by just compartmentalizing portions of my life, storing them away in the back of my mind like boxes in a closet- unseen, nearly forgotten, ignored. My day-to-day life in Oklahoma seems easier if I can force myself to disregard the strong feelings I have for this place. It's almost like longing after a dead relative or an ex-wife you know will never come back to you. You're better off if you can just forget about it.
Soon my time here will draw to a close, and I'll head down to Portland for a few days before somehow flying out of here- I haven't yet bought my ticket back to OKC. I hope to visit my family's camp in the woods, and reconnect with some very important key pieces of myself there, before returning to Oklahoma. I assume that once I return, I'll be back to my usual hateful, arrogant, boastful, prideful self. Enjoy your time with Nice Frank while it lasts.
But of course more importantly- at least to me- it's great to be home. I grew up here, in Washington. As soon as I landed on the flight from OKC to Seattle, I could feel the change. The air is different here, full of possibilities and ideas and new life. Walking outside becomes a reawakening. Every tree I see is like an old friend I haven't seen in years, it's all so familiar yet at the same time it's fresh to me and I have a new found appreciation for this place that I didn't really have when I lived here before. Like, I didn't really realize what I had until I lost it.
It's strange, too, what Washington does for my attitude. I'm friendlier here. I am in my element; I want to be nice to people, I want to speak to strangers, I honestly enjoy looking people in the eye and smiling at them here. In Oklahoma, I endure others. Here, I see them as potential allies.
The earth seems more fertile here than it does in Oklahoma. It seems ripe and lush. I tell everyone who will listen, Oklahoma is not my homeland. Oklahoma is where Cherokee people were sent to die. We surprised everyone by not only surviving, but thriving. Oklahoma is not my home. My home is anywhere and nowhere. I view the house I live in as little more than a tent- just a temporary spot to put my stuff.
I sometimes wonder if I would be better served by just compartmentalizing portions of my life, storing them away in the back of my mind like boxes in a closet- unseen, nearly forgotten, ignored. My day-to-day life in Oklahoma seems easier if I can force myself to disregard the strong feelings I have for this place. It's almost like longing after a dead relative or an ex-wife you know will never come back to you. You're better off if you can just forget about it.
Soon my time here will draw to a close, and I'll head down to Portland for a few days before somehow flying out of here- I haven't yet bought my ticket back to OKC. I hope to visit my family's camp in the woods, and reconnect with some very important key pieces of myself there, before returning to Oklahoma. I assume that once I return, I'll be back to my usual hateful, arrogant, boastful, prideful self. Enjoy your time with Nice Frank while it lasts.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Dating Sites Explained
Gentlemen, behold! I have unlocked the secret to deciphering the profiles of women on dating websites. Through a recent completely random selection on a dating website I have NEVER visited before because I NEVER USE THEM BECAUSE I AM A REAL MAN AND NEVER EVER EVER HAVE A PROBLEM GETTING DATES, EVER, I have developed a method by which the hidden meaning deep within the profile of any hot sexy 300 pound single mom in a trailer can be exposed so that you can make her your WoW girlfriend... overnight!
Here, on my goddamn blog, completely free of charge, I will publish one (1) free sample.
USER NAME: SINGLEFEMALE69 (I swear I am NOT making that up. This user name will be important later, when you're reading how much she hates guys who just want sex... but she went ahead and threw in "69", just to get your attention.)
HER words are bolded; MY TRANSLATIONS are italicized. Read 'em and weep, boys.
I'm looking for that special someone to complete my life.
(I am incomplete. Please make me whole.)
I have had some bad relationships in the past, but I know there has to be a great guy out there for me!
(My last three relationships have ended in enough tears and bloodshed to fuel a Somali pirate ship. My stalking abilities know no bounds.)
I need a man that can enjoy my company as much as I will enjoy his. If it's going out or just staying home and watching a movie together.
(I'm insecure. Tell me constantly how much you enjoy my company. Talk about nothing but "us". No matter where we are, constant eye contact is a must; looking away for even a second is indicative of "relationship problems"... even on our second date.)
I'm 5'4", brown hair/green eyes. I have a cute face and a thick waist. I HAVE ONE PIERCING AND 7 TATS, so if that isn't your thing....SORRY!
( I have cleverly disguised "thick waist" with all these other, less off-putting physical descriptors for good reason. I am enormous. Please ask me where my piercing is; you may need to help me find it, as I have not personally seen it in several years.)
I love all kinds of music from country to rock and some rap.
( I have poor decision-making skills and little impulse control. I don't like being expected to make choices; thusly, I have very few concrete loyalties, even to my closest friends.)
I prefer movies with a good story line, not really into sci-fi but I'm willing to compromise.
(I'll compromise because I haven't been on a date since before the birth of my sixth child. I'M SO FUCKING LONELY. SCI-FI IS FINE. JUST LOVE ME.)
I am a VERY out going person that will try just about anything.
(coughcoughWHOREcoughcough)
I am looking for a man that knows what he wants,
(As long as it's me,)
and doesn't play head games!
(Because that's MY job, dammit.)
So guys, PLEASE STOP wasting my time if you are.
(Between Roseanne reruns and waiting for the pizza guy, my time is precious.)
I am not looking for a one night stand or mr. right now or friends with benefits,so AGAIN,if that's what your looking for then please go find someone else!
(Please understand I will incessantly nag you for a commitment almost from the moment we meet. But here, let me type 69 again. 69. 69. 69.)
I want a long term relationship. I know he is out there somewhere, and I will take my time to find him.
(I have very very large ankles.)
If there is anything I may have left out and you would like to know, feel free to send a message and ask!! If you would like to see more pics I have them.
(Email me for naked pictures and sexy sexy cyber love.)
On our first date, I'd like to go somewhere nice and quiet,
(And preferably dark)
so we can talk and get to know each other and take it from there.
(So I can give you a half-hearted handjob after asking you far too many questions about your occupation and income.)
Definately not a movie since you cannot talk,
(Again, I need your complete undivided attention at all times. Are you listening to me?)
possibly dinner, drinks at a decent restaurant would be fun!
(I'M SO HUNGRY.)
So there it is. The online-dating-website-woman-translator-thingie. I hope you've enjoyed your free sample, and if you'd like to download the whole program, please contact me.
Here, on my goddamn blog, completely free of charge, I will publish one (1) free sample.
USER NAME: SINGLEFEMALE69 (I swear I am NOT making that up. This user name will be important later, when you're reading how much she hates guys who just want sex... but she went ahead and threw in "69", just to get your attention.)
HER words are bolded; MY TRANSLATIONS are italicized. Read 'em and weep, boys.
I'm looking for that special someone to complete my life.
(I am incomplete. Please make me whole.)
I have had some bad relationships in the past, but I know there has to be a great guy out there for me!
(My last three relationships have ended in enough tears and bloodshed to fuel a Somali pirate ship. My stalking abilities know no bounds.)
I need a man that can enjoy my company as much as I will enjoy his. If it's going out or just staying home and watching a movie together.
(I'm insecure. Tell me constantly how much you enjoy my company. Talk about nothing but "us". No matter where we are, constant eye contact is a must; looking away for even a second is indicative of "relationship problems"... even on our second date.)
I'm 5'4", brown hair/green eyes. I have a cute face and a thick waist. I HAVE ONE PIERCING AND 7 TATS, so if that isn't your thing....SORRY!
( I have cleverly disguised "thick waist" with all these other, less off-putting physical descriptors for good reason. I am enormous. Please ask me where my piercing is; you may need to help me find it, as I have not personally seen it in several years.)
I love all kinds of music from country to rock and some rap.
( I have poor decision-making skills and little impulse control. I don't like being expected to make choices; thusly, I have very few concrete loyalties, even to my closest friends.)
I prefer movies with a good story line, not really into sci-fi but I'm willing to compromise.
(I'll compromise because I haven't been on a date since before the birth of my sixth child. I'M SO FUCKING LONELY. SCI-FI IS FINE. JUST LOVE ME.)
I am a VERY out going person that will try just about anything.
(coughcoughWHOREcoughcough)
I am looking for a man that knows what he wants,
(As long as it's me,)
and doesn't play head games!
(Because that's MY job, dammit.)
So guys, PLEASE STOP wasting my time if you are.
(Between Roseanne reruns and waiting for the pizza guy, my time is precious.)
I am not looking for a one night stand or mr. right now or friends with benefits,so AGAIN,if that's what your looking for then please go find someone else!
(Please understand I will incessantly nag you for a commitment almost from the moment we meet. But here, let me type 69 again. 69. 69. 69.)
I want a long term relationship. I know he is out there somewhere, and I will take my time to find him.
(I have very very large ankles.)
If there is anything I may have left out and you would like to know, feel free to send a message and ask!! If you would like to see more pics I have them.
(Email me for naked pictures and sexy sexy cyber love.)
On our first date, I'd like to go somewhere nice and quiet,
(And preferably dark)
so we can talk and get to know each other and take it from there.
(So I can give you a half-hearted handjob after asking you far too many questions about your occupation and income.)
Definately not a movie since you cannot talk,
(Again, I need your complete undivided attention at all times. Are you listening to me?)
possibly dinner, drinks at a decent restaurant would be fun!
(I'M SO HUNGRY.)
So there it is. The online-dating-website-woman-translator-thingie. I hope you've enjoyed your free sample, and if you'd like to download the whole program, please contact me.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Fake tits don't move me much. But if you wanna go all Capt. Save-A-Ho, cool.
I'm glad this has been brought up in a public forum, so that I can respond to it for everyone to see.
The machine in question was given to me for a rebuild nearly 3 years ago, if I remember right. The agreement was that I'd rebuild it, notify Kat (the owner of the machine) that it was finished, and she would then pay for the rebuild via Paypal.
I lived up to my end- I took a machine that was barely functioning and turned it into a lean, mean thing of beauty. I sent pictures and a Paypal invoice to Kat, and didn't hear from her. So I texted her and asked if she got the email. "Yeah, I got it. Let me just wait till payday". Several weeks in a row, this was the story. After a while I figured, well, I'll stop being annoying about it. When she's got the money, she'll let me know.
So the machine sat there for months. Eventually I discovered I was moving across the country. So, fine, the machine went in a drawer. By now I've had it about a year, and I've made repeated efforts to find the owner to arrange to get it back to her, with no results.
Finally I decided, fuck this. If I was an auto mechanic I woulda put a lien on this thing and resold it a long time ago. So I got an offer on it from a good friend who taught me to build machines, and got my money finally.
Now another couple years go by- and out of the blue, I get a message from Kat asking for her machine. Uhh... what? No, that's gone, baby. "OH, well can you get it back?" Sure, I'll do you a FAVOR- although you've done me no favors- and see if I can get it back from the dude who bought it after you abandoned it for a year. I asked him, I didn't hear back about it, meanwhile this chick's all up my ass every day about her machine from years ago that she chose to abandon with me.
Finally she sent me some snarky little message copping an attitude, so she went on ignore. Now she can kiss my ass, I won't make even the slightest effort to help somebody if they're gonna be impatient and get all PMS on me about shit that's got nothing to do with me at all.
So, there's the story. The entire story. Far as morals, I never said I have morals. In fact, I probably have much lower moral standards than most people claim to have. But this is definitely not a situation in which my moral fiber is in question at all.
If that doesn't answer your questions adequately, you're welcome to stop by my home at any time to discuss this matter further. My address is available simply by asking me for it through my inbox.
I consider this matter settled unless further facts come to light which I haven't considered yet.
Have a good day, Dan.
The machine in question was given to me for a rebuild nearly 3 years ago, if I remember right. The agreement was that I'd rebuild it, notify Kat (the owner of the machine) that it was finished, and she would then pay for the rebuild via Paypal.
I lived up to my end- I took a machine that was barely functioning and turned it into a lean, mean thing of beauty. I sent pictures and a Paypal invoice to Kat, and didn't hear from her. So I texted her and asked if she got the email. "Yeah, I got it. Let me just wait till payday". Several weeks in a row, this was the story. After a while I figured, well, I'll stop being annoying about it. When she's got the money, she'll let me know.
So the machine sat there for months. Eventually I discovered I was moving across the country. So, fine, the machine went in a drawer. By now I've had it about a year, and I've made repeated efforts to find the owner to arrange to get it back to her, with no results.
Finally I decided, fuck this. If I was an auto mechanic I woulda put a lien on this thing and resold it a long time ago. So I got an offer on it from a good friend who taught me to build machines, and got my money finally.
Now another couple years go by- and out of the blue, I get a message from Kat asking for her machine. Uhh... what? No, that's gone, baby. "OH, well can you get it back?" Sure, I'll do you a FAVOR- although you've done me no favors- and see if I can get it back from the dude who bought it after you abandoned it for a year. I asked him, I didn't hear back about it, meanwhile this chick's all up my ass every day about her machine from years ago that she chose to abandon with me.
Finally she sent me some snarky little message copping an attitude, so she went on ignore. Now she can kiss my ass, I won't make even the slightest effort to help somebody if they're gonna be impatient and get all PMS on me about shit that's got nothing to do with me at all.
So, there's the story. The entire story. Far as morals, I never said I have morals. In fact, I probably have much lower moral standards than most people claim to have. But this is definitely not a situation in which my moral fiber is in question at all.
If that doesn't answer your questions adequately, you're welcome to stop by my home at any time to discuss this matter further. My address is available simply by asking me for it through my inbox.
I consider this matter settled unless further facts come to light which I haven't considered yet.
Have a good day, Dan.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Bachelor Life.
It started out with just not doing my laundry sometimes...
Yes, that's smoke coming off them in the second picture- and plenty of it. I make no apologies.
Yes, that's smoke coming off them in the second picture- and plenty of it. I make no apologies.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
TWEET- A Tale Of Deception And Intrigue.
About a week ago, my daughter was at her mom's house. It had rained heavily the night before, and when they went out in the back yard that morning, they found a baby bird floundering in a half-full bucket of water. Mom got a broom and together, her and Ruby got the poor bird out of the water and left it on the grass. Soon it dried itself off and flew away.
When I heard this story, I couldn't resist running with it- So I sent Ruby this text on her mom's phone:
"HI RUBY. I AM THAT BABY BIRD YOU SAVED. MY NAME IS TWEET. THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME. THAT'S NICE OF YOU TO GET ME OUT OF THE WATER."
Upon receiving the text, Ruby responded with what can only be described as "apeshit joy". So I waited till that night, and decided Tweet needed to send Ruby an email.
FROM: FRANK FENCEPOST (hey, she can't read, it's cool.)
TO: RUBY SUNALI FENCEPOST
SUBJ: TWEET TWEET!!!
HI RUBY.
IT'S ME, YOUR FRIEND TWEET! I JUST WANTED TO SEND YOU A PICTURE OF ME. SEE, I'M GETTING BIGGER NOW. MY MOM SAYS I'M BIG. I'M 3 YEARS OLD LIKE YOU ARE.
CAN WE BE FRIENDS? I ALWAYS WANTED A FRIEND WHO WAS A REAL GIRL.
PLEASE SEND ME A PICTURE OF YOU.
LOVE, YOUR FRIEND,
TWEET
Of course, Ruby called me after her mom read her this email, flipping out about her new bff Tweet. Since then, there's been several instances of Tweet activity, such as: yesterday, we were sitting on the couch when I said "Ruby, what's that noise?" We went to the back door to look, and sure enough, we saw Tweet out on a power line. We went outside and Ruby said "HI TWEET!" I told her you have to talk to Tweet in bird language, so she said "Cheep cheep!" We also saw Tweet's baby brother and Tweet's mom.
If any readers have suggestions of how I can continue the Saga of Tweet, please email f.fencepost@gmail.com or text me at 405 532 2499.
Thanks for reading!
When I heard this story, I couldn't resist running with it- So I sent Ruby this text on her mom's phone:
"HI RUBY. I AM THAT BABY BIRD YOU SAVED. MY NAME IS TWEET. THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME. THAT'S NICE OF YOU TO GET ME OUT OF THE WATER."
Upon receiving the text, Ruby responded with what can only be described as "apeshit joy". So I waited till that night, and decided Tweet needed to send Ruby an email.
FROM: FRANK FENCEPOST (hey, she can't read, it's cool.)
TO: RUBY SUNALI FENCEPOST
SUBJ: TWEET TWEET!!!
HI RUBY.
IT'S ME, YOUR FRIEND TWEET! I JUST WANTED TO SEND YOU A PICTURE OF ME. SEE, I'M GETTING BIGGER NOW. MY MOM SAYS I'M BIG. I'M 3 YEARS OLD LIKE YOU ARE.
CAN WE BE FRIENDS? I ALWAYS WANTED A FRIEND WHO WAS A REAL GIRL.
PLEASE SEND ME A PICTURE OF YOU.
LOVE, YOUR FRIEND,
TWEET
Of course, Ruby called me after her mom read her this email, flipping out about her new bff Tweet. Since then, there's been several instances of Tweet activity, such as: yesterday, we were sitting on the couch when I said "Ruby, what's that noise?" We went to the back door to look, and sure enough, we saw Tweet out on a power line. We went outside and Ruby said "HI TWEET!" I told her you have to talk to Tweet in bird language, so she said "Cheep cheep!" We also saw Tweet's baby brother and Tweet's mom.
If any readers have suggestions of how I can continue the Saga of Tweet, please email f.fencepost@gmail.com or text me at 405 532 2499.
Thanks for reading!
Friday, June 10, 2011
A Quick and Easy Guide to Babymama Drama.
You know that old saying, "shit happens"? It seems so cliche and trite, until the shit happens to you- until you're the one up to their eyeballs and still sinking, with nobody there to help pull you out.
Divorce, in our case, is often another word for "shit".
Divorce happens. In fact, it happens a lot; in the United States, the divorce rate hovers around 50%. Millions upon millions of people are currently in the middle of what are, in many cases, some particularly nasty divorces- in which, often times, the biggest victims are the children in the family.
Here's what I've learned in the last two years of dealing with the anxiety of divorce, the hell of not seeing my kid for a while, and the long, slow recovery period:
1) DON'T DIVORCE YOUR KIDS. This is number one for a reason. I don't have any proven numbers on this, but just from what I've seen, a good 30-50% of fathers just walk right out of their kids' lives when their wife splits. You are the man of your family and no one can replace you, in fact the courts will back you up when you put forth the effort to take care of your children. It is your right to see your kids, and further, it's your duty. Without your positive influence, your children will certainly have difficulties in life that wouldn't have existed (or wouldn't have been as bad) if you'd been around to help them.
2) DON'T WITHHOLD SUPPORT. Whether you're being ordered by a court to pay child support or not, and whether your children's mother allows you to see them or not, spend the money to take good care of your children. Whether that means you personally buy them the things they need (which you may need to do if you're unsure you can trust your ex to spend child support money on the kids) or you give money directly to your ex, your kids need their father to keep them in diapers, food, and clothes. There is no excuse for doing otherwise. If you have to live in your car to pay support, do it. If you have to sell your car and live under a bridge to pay support, do it. No matter what you do, take care of your kids.
3) DON'T BELIEVE THE HYPE. People will tell you again and again- without you even asking their advice- that "the court always favors the woman". This is not true. In recent years, most states have changed the way their courts look at things like joint custody, sole custody being awarded to fathers, etc. The reason it seems like courts so often favor the mother, is because quite honestly, most fathers act the fool- throwing around a bunch of threats, refusing to pay child support until ordered to, etc. This kind of thing will not make you look like a good person to keep in a child's life, and if you act that way, be prepared for a pissed-off judge to dry-hump you without so much as a kiss.
4) COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR EX. Yeah, I know. "Fuck that bitch, she's the one that left." "Communicate with her? Maybe she should have communicated to me that she was fucking all my friends." Sure, those things happen and they suck a lot. But you know what? You have kids with this woman. It wasn't your kids that blew their boss in a limo or punched you in the face or ate the last of the lasagna or whatever. Suck it up, smile and nod, be polite and do what you have to do to have an open line of communication with her- no matter how much you may have to grit your teeth to get through it. Who are you? You're the man. That's right. Now act like it! Your kids are counting on you to be able to discuss things like school, sports activities, discipline, and bedtime routines with their mother.
5) CANDY BARS DO NOT EQUAL "GOOD DAD". I think all us single fathers have felt the urge to spoil the crap out of our kids, to be the favorite parent, to indulge every little whim and desire our kids might have. This has been referred to as the "Disneyland Dad Syndrome". Don't fall prey to it. It's fine to have fun activities scheduled for your kids on the days you have them. It's not fine to spend all day, every day doing all the fun stuff, and then send them back to mom's house and let her deal with the tantrums, discipline issues, laundry, diaper-changing and the other difficult parenting issues. You're a dad, not an older sibling.
6) BE INVOLVED. BE INVOLVED. BE INVOLVED! I can't stress it enough- be in your children's lives as much as you possibly can. Make it to their recitals, school plays, baseball games, and everything else. Just because you're only scheduled to have them at your house on certain pre-determined days of the week, doesn't mean that's the only time you should see them. Oh, your ex won't "let" you see them during the rest of the week? Well, return to step 4 and repeat it. Communicate with her peacefully, honestly, and keep repeating what you have in common- a desire for your children's happiness- and she'll come around.
There's nothing I can say in this brief space that will completely equip you for dealing with the ol' "babymama drama"- especially given that I'm still in the process of getting through it myself. It's been nearly two years, my ex is remarried and has a new kid, and I still struggle to communicate with her. We're very different people.
All I can tell you is that you HAVE to be where you are, you HAVE to put up with only seeing your kids half the week or in many cases much less, you HAVE to be dealing with this divorce and maybe even the issue of your ex having a new significant other-
But you DON'T have to be miserable, you DON'T have to waste your life, you DON'T have to drink or use other drugs, and most of all you DON'T have to walk away from your family. You're the man here. Just plow through this in the best way you know how, and eventually things will get better.
"Only after disaster can we be resurrected." -Tyler Durden in Fight Club
Divorce, in our case, is often another word for "shit".
Divorce happens. In fact, it happens a lot; in the United States, the divorce rate hovers around 50%. Millions upon millions of people are currently in the middle of what are, in many cases, some particularly nasty divorces- in which, often times, the biggest victims are the children in the family.
Here's what I've learned in the last two years of dealing with the anxiety of divorce, the hell of not seeing my kid for a while, and the long, slow recovery period:
1) DON'T DIVORCE YOUR KIDS. This is number one for a reason. I don't have any proven numbers on this, but just from what I've seen, a good 30-50% of fathers just walk right out of their kids' lives when their wife splits. You are the man of your family and no one can replace you, in fact the courts will back you up when you put forth the effort to take care of your children. It is your right to see your kids, and further, it's your duty. Without your positive influence, your children will certainly have difficulties in life that wouldn't have existed (or wouldn't have been as bad) if you'd been around to help them.
2) DON'T WITHHOLD SUPPORT. Whether you're being ordered by a court to pay child support or not, and whether your children's mother allows you to see them or not, spend the money to take good care of your children. Whether that means you personally buy them the things they need (which you may need to do if you're unsure you can trust your ex to spend child support money on the kids) or you give money directly to your ex, your kids need their father to keep them in diapers, food, and clothes. There is no excuse for doing otherwise. If you have to live in your car to pay support, do it. If you have to sell your car and live under a bridge to pay support, do it. No matter what you do, take care of your kids.
3) DON'T BELIEVE THE HYPE. People will tell you again and again- without you even asking their advice- that "the court always favors the woman". This is not true. In recent years, most states have changed the way their courts look at things like joint custody, sole custody being awarded to fathers, etc. The reason it seems like courts so often favor the mother, is because quite honestly, most fathers act the fool- throwing around a bunch of threats, refusing to pay child support until ordered to, etc. This kind of thing will not make you look like a good person to keep in a child's life, and if you act that way, be prepared for a pissed-off judge to dry-hump you without so much as a kiss.
4) COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR EX. Yeah, I know. "Fuck that bitch, she's the one that left." "Communicate with her? Maybe she should have communicated to me that she was fucking all my friends." Sure, those things happen and they suck a lot. But you know what? You have kids with this woman. It wasn't your kids that blew their boss in a limo or punched you in the face or ate the last of the lasagna or whatever. Suck it up, smile and nod, be polite and do what you have to do to have an open line of communication with her- no matter how much you may have to grit your teeth to get through it. Who are you? You're the man. That's right. Now act like it! Your kids are counting on you to be able to discuss things like school, sports activities, discipline, and bedtime routines with their mother.
5) CANDY BARS DO NOT EQUAL "GOOD DAD". I think all us single fathers have felt the urge to spoil the crap out of our kids, to be the favorite parent, to indulge every little whim and desire our kids might have. This has been referred to as the "Disneyland Dad Syndrome". Don't fall prey to it. It's fine to have fun activities scheduled for your kids on the days you have them. It's not fine to spend all day, every day doing all the fun stuff, and then send them back to mom's house and let her deal with the tantrums, discipline issues, laundry, diaper-changing and the other difficult parenting issues. You're a dad, not an older sibling.
6) BE INVOLVED. BE INVOLVED. BE INVOLVED! I can't stress it enough- be in your children's lives as much as you possibly can. Make it to their recitals, school plays, baseball games, and everything else. Just because you're only scheduled to have them at your house on certain pre-determined days of the week, doesn't mean that's the only time you should see them. Oh, your ex won't "let" you see them during the rest of the week? Well, return to step 4 and repeat it. Communicate with her peacefully, honestly, and keep repeating what you have in common- a desire for your children's happiness- and she'll come around.
There's nothing I can say in this brief space that will completely equip you for dealing with the ol' "babymama drama"- especially given that I'm still in the process of getting through it myself. It's been nearly two years, my ex is remarried and has a new kid, and I still struggle to communicate with her. We're very different people.
All I can tell you is that you HAVE to be where you are, you HAVE to put up with only seeing your kids half the week or in many cases much less, you HAVE to be dealing with this divorce and maybe even the issue of your ex having a new significant other-
But you DON'T have to be miserable, you DON'T have to waste your life, you DON'T have to drink or use other drugs, and most of all you DON'T have to walk away from your family. You're the man here. Just plow through this in the best way you know how, and eventually things will get better.
"Only after disaster can we be resurrected." -Tyler Durden in Fight Club
Stolen Ponies
I need a woman who isn't afraid to load the magazine of an AK-47
30 little brass warriors, seven point six two millimeters by 39
But would much rather heat the skillet
And knead the dough
And feed bread to her tired hunter who's been chasing deer all night.
I need a woman who favors my bloody shoes and tangled hair,
Who feels me coming a mile away. When I ride into camp
Atop a pickup full of firewood, concealing illicit meat,
I want her to drop everything she's doing and stare.
I need a woman who understands
That a gift to her father does not make her my property;
That it's a promise, the taking of a vow,
And the most romantic gesture I could possibly make.
Who needs flowers, after all, when you have stolen ponies?
30 little brass warriors, seven point six two millimeters by 39
But would much rather heat the skillet
And knead the dough
And feed bread to her tired hunter who's been chasing deer all night.
I need a woman who favors my bloody shoes and tangled hair,
Who feels me coming a mile away. When I ride into camp
Atop a pickup full of firewood, concealing illicit meat,
I want her to drop everything she's doing and stare.
I need a woman who understands
That a gift to her father does not make her my property;
That it's a promise, the taking of a vow,
And the most romantic gesture I could possibly make.
Who needs flowers, after all, when you have stolen ponies?
Friday, June 3, 2011
For Ruby
We have a secret, you and I.
As I watch your tiny chest rise and fall
In the soft light coming through the open doorway
From the hall, I understand.
You are the keeper of my heart,
And I am the protector of your body, mind, and soul.
Mine was the first face you ever saw.
I spoke the first words you ever heard, in a language
As old as time itself, the language of proud
Fathers, the words of duty and love
And the promises fervently made in
Nurseries across the world.
Now, alone, you and I
Have nothing in this world but
The love we give to one another.
I am nothing without you- a captain without a ship,
A bow without arrows,
A tattooed angel with broken wings.
I pray you never leave my side.
Be with me always, guide me in the ways of adulthood
In that unknowing, unsuspecting way-
Trust in me always,
And trust in me completely. In so doing,
Hold onto your innocence forever.
As I watch your tiny chest rise and fall
In the soft light coming through the open doorway
From the hall, I understand.
You are the keeper of my heart,
And I am the protector of your body, mind, and soul.
Mine was the first face you ever saw.
I spoke the first words you ever heard, in a language
As old as time itself, the language of proud
Fathers, the words of duty and love
And the promises fervently made in
Nurseries across the world.
Now, alone, you and I
Have nothing in this world but
The love we give to one another.
I am nothing without you- a captain without a ship,
A bow without arrows,
A tattooed angel with broken wings.
I pray you never leave my side.
Be with me always, guide me in the ways of adulthood
In that unknowing, unsuspecting way-
Trust in me always,
And trust in me completely. In so doing,
Hold onto your innocence forever.
The Saga of Hardware Store Joe
I remember the first time I walked into a hardware store.
Okay, maybe not REALLY the first time, but the first time I went in there for something as an adult. The first time I walked into a hardware store with purpose, with the intent of buying a thing and using it to fix or build another thing, the first time I walked into a hardware store with boots on my feet and a few bucks in my pocket and a pickup out in the parking lot on a cold fall morning.
I remember how hardware stores were, then. You'd walk in and there'd be a buncha old junk behind the counter, old scythe blades and gears and esoteric bits and pieces of equipment and machinery you could never, in your ignorance, ever hope to understand. The lights, yellow and bright, showed you a narrow path through the clutter, into the back of the aisles where all the good stuff was. Invariably, there'd be an old guy with a canvas apron, a pair of glasses, and if you're lucky, a big white beard. That beard is where Hardware Joe kept much of his knowledge and power.
Hardware Joe. Every small town had a guy named Hardware Joe. He knew everything. He knew every thread pattern the world over, without consulting a manual. He knew where the galvanized nails were, and the brass flathead screws, and the 1/16" flat steel stock- over there, next to those rebars.
Hardware Joe couldn't remember your name, but he could remember every Craftsman catalog going back to 1970.
I mean, this guy had it all. The wisdom, the confidence, the voice, the beard. Everybody had a quiet reverence for Hardware Joe.
Then came Walmart.
With it came the defeat of the local hardware store. There was no way Joe could compete with a store selling stuff for half as much- even if it was at half the quality. Slowly, Joe was replaced with younger guys, guys with nametags- Joe never had a nametag- tags with names like "Trevor" and "Terry" and for god's sake, "Tracy". I mean, I can't ask a dude named Tracy, a dude 10 years younger than me no less, where the bronze stock is or if I can use this solder for a material other than copper. I just can't, and even if I could, Tracy doesn't know. Tracy knows nothing of the mysterious world of Craftsman catalogs and wood dust. He doesn't care. He wants to get off work, get in his Miata, go home and play Warcraft.
Fuck you, Tracy.
Okay, maybe not REALLY the first time, but the first time I went in there for something as an adult. The first time I walked into a hardware store with purpose, with the intent of buying a thing and using it to fix or build another thing, the first time I walked into a hardware store with boots on my feet and a few bucks in my pocket and a pickup out in the parking lot on a cold fall morning.
I remember how hardware stores were, then. You'd walk in and there'd be a buncha old junk behind the counter, old scythe blades and gears and esoteric bits and pieces of equipment and machinery you could never, in your ignorance, ever hope to understand. The lights, yellow and bright, showed you a narrow path through the clutter, into the back of the aisles where all the good stuff was. Invariably, there'd be an old guy with a canvas apron, a pair of glasses, and if you're lucky, a big white beard. That beard is where Hardware Joe kept much of his knowledge and power.
Hardware Joe. Every small town had a guy named Hardware Joe. He knew everything. He knew every thread pattern the world over, without consulting a manual. He knew where the galvanized nails were, and the brass flathead screws, and the 1/16" flat steel stock- over there, next to those rebars.
Hardware Joe couldn't remember your name, but he could remember every Craftsman catalog going back to 1970.
I mean, this guy had it all. The wisdom, the confidence, the voice, the beard. Everybody had a quiet reverence for Hardware Joe.
Then came Walmart.
With it came the defeat of the local hardware store. There was no way Joe could compete with a store selling stuff for half as much- even if it was at half the quality. Slowly, Joe was replaced with younger guys, guys with nametags- Joe never had a nametag- tags with names like "Trevor" and "Terry" and for god's sake, "Tracy". I mean, I can't ask a dude named Tracy, a dude 10 years younger than me no less, where the bronze stock is or if I can use this solder for a material other than copper. I just can't, and even if I could, Tracy doesn't know. Tracy knows nothing of the mysterious world of Craftsman catalogs and wood dust. He doesn't care. He wants to get off work, get in his Miata, go home and play Warcraft.
Fuck you, Tracy.
First Entry. Bear with me, folks.
This will be the first entry in my new blog, "The Fencepost Chronicles".
You can expect me to make you laugh, piss you off, take all your money, mark you for life, steal your books and be the best friend you've ever had.
If you've arrived here from my website, www.fencepostmachines.com, you can expect to see very little here about machines and more just a daily insight to the life I live.
I'm going to attempt to show what it's like to be me- all the fucked up shit that happens to me, the smile on my face when I encounter adversity, and the day to day boredom and tedium that I go through in order to orchestrate those occasional black-out, fist-fight, stranger-sex, railroad-painting nights of doom. If you already like me, read this blog and you'll love me. If you already hate me, hey, fuck you, keep hating... you're making me famous.
You can expect me to make you laugh, piss you off, take all your money, mark you for life, steal your books and be the best friend you've ever had.
If you've arrived here from my website, www.fencepostmachines.com, you can expect to see very little here about machines and more just a daily insight to the life I live.
I'm going to attempt to show what it's like to be me- all the fucked up shit that happens to me, the smile on my face when I encounter adversity, and the day to day boredom and tedium that I go through in order to orchestrate those occasional black-out, fist-fight, stranger-sex, railroad-painting nights of doom. If you already like me, read this blog and you'll love me. If you already hate me, hey, fuck you, keep hating... you're making me famous.
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