metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The ashes are in da house! This entry is an edited letter I wrote to my cousin, Dee. She is in her 70�s and her health is failing. This is really like an installment of a story I can not complete, until she has passed away. Part of the story is the reason behind this letter. The ashes I speak of are those of my eldest brother, who died a couple of years ago. I suppose I could tell the story of how his ashes made the trek from Palm Springs to Atlanta and ended up in that crazy fag�s hands (I am not anti-gay, but this guy gives homo�s a bad name), and so I will� but not tonight. �Dear Dee, The good news is I finally have Larry's ashes here with me. They are in my possession. I met Paul last weekend and picked them up. It has been almost a year since I have been trying to get with Paul to pick them up. HE NEVER RETURNED MY CALLS!!!!!! I called religiously every week or two to arrange a time to meet with him to pick them up. I would leave my work number, my cell number, my home number every time.... No call. Nothing. I never lost my cool with him because I was afraid he might do something to the ashes for spite or something. Around Christmas I called Gina and mentioned it to her, hoping she shed some light on why in the world he would not return my call or leave a message or anything (she could not and seemed as bewildered as I was as to why he would not call), and hoping she might be able to put some pressure on him to call me. She called me a few weeks ago and said she spoke with him and he told her he still had them, but she said she could not get him to commit to contacting me.... I HATE THAT FUCKING FAG! I sent him a Christmas card with my business card in it with all my numbers and my email address on it. Nothing. After the holidays I decided I would step up my efforts to get the ashes, I even planned on getting a deputy marshall to accompany me, if necessary. It was just so ridiculous. But, then I had an idea. The next time I called, my message was "Hi, Paul. It's Lisa again. I am so disappointed we can not seem to connect. I was worried but spoke with Gina and she said you were well and doing fine. I plan to be in Atlanta quite a bit in the next couple of months and so I think I will just stop by whenever I am in town and hope to catch you or Soren at home. Please let Soren know where the ashes and pictures are that are mine in case you are not there when I stop by. My number at work is xxx-xxx-xxxx, you can leave a message there 24/7 and I will get it. My home number is....." This experience reinforced my confidence in my essential manipulative and conniving nature� It felt great. 9:38 p.m. - 2008-05-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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