Walter Miller Homepage

Don't assume anything is going ovor your head: It realy is that stupid.

sEPTEMBER 1997 Update

Page 3 of 6


My folks give me a Talking to

When Granfather was asleep and snorring in the back, my dad and stepmom and me had a little chat as we drove. They asked me abbout how I was doing on the job and also how I was doing emotoinolly and also with the therapy. (The therrapy is paid under Dad's insurrance; the crappy jobs I have dont HAVE insurance.)

I said it was ALL GOING GOOD.

But they figoured stuff was NOT good. She said "you are 'blocking', Walter." But I was NOT blocking, i just didnt want to talk about it. So we drove for annothor hour and said very little. Then after lunch my stepmom put a tape in her boombox for us all to listen to. She said "i want you to liston to the words." It was the Billy Joal tape The Angrey Young Man. Some of the words are the Angry Yuong Man has "his fist in the air in his head in the ground." Also one part says the angry Young man is BORING AS HELL.

I thuoght this was very mean

So then i started to argou. But they both said I have to GROW UP--and also not take both myself and the Internet too serriously, becuase neither are the extremly important things that the world revolves around. I told them that this made me feel shamed. They THEY said that this is what they WANTED me to feel, and I then got very PISSED.

Then when i told them I was pissed and my feelings were hurt they said that "Youre feelings are NOT the most inportent thing the world revolvs around either, young man." i know they mean well in the manner of 'Tough Love' but it aggrovated the hell out of me.

After we stopped for supper in a truck stop, Dad called his phonemail. In response to the message my brother left for granfather's brothers on the East coast, there was an urgent message for Dad from Uncle Zeke in Delawear. (Or Baltomore. Or Washington. Or wherevor the hell he lives: You fly into BWI but you get lost every time you drive there.) My Uncle said to call as soon as posible. Dad called Uncle Zeke back but no one was home.

Then i called my phonemail and there was a message there from my job.

The message was a warning that there were more HTML errors on my pages i transmitted: Can i please transmitt them agian. Well obviously I could NOT because i was travveling.

As you know my job sitauation is tenuous. I am strouggling to make a living but only have 2 part time jobs right now. That job above i cannot mention what it is. But the second job is working remotely for The Netly News where i get to write a colunm each week. But its part time and not a REAL job. I get a small base pay for the colunm plus an even crappier hourley wage for a few hours a week doing HTML programing. (Also they will not expense my airfaire for a trip to NewYork City later this year--cheap bastords).

Anyway, while i was near a payphone I called to check in with Netly, which i like to do once a week. I figoured that if this one job was not happy with me, and that I risked being fired, mabye Netlynews coud give me some more work to make up the diference.

My life is one mortifying houmiliation after another, and one day I imagine I will learn the errudite, tasteful and sophistocated way to beg for support like Public Television does. But in the meantime I was begging the people at Netley to PLEASE increase my hours.

Just like in my othor part time job, I know Ive been makin allot of coding errors for them too, but I said that i am striving to improve. I explianed that i live in this trailer in the middle of nowhere. There are things i want to do and "MO' MONEY, MO' MONEY" as they used to say on In Living Color is the olny way. Among certain goals I have are that I want to hire a nanny for Granfather. Plus I want to pay my debts and buy a car and move back to civolization.

"Not at this time--ill think about it"

Those are the exact words I was told. And it was NOT said in an encouroging way, like they realley might have more work for me in the near future. The way it was said was more like when you are makkin out with a girl and you WANT MORE, but instead she pushes you away from what you WANT to do and says Not at this danm time I'll think about it. ...Which of cource means never. (At least not with YOU--you know she'll be doin it with her next boyfreind).

I almost blow it

I ofton write abbout how I make poor decicions regarding all aspetcs of my life. Well anyway i almost pulled anothor doozy right then. I said ovor the phone: "You know theres allot of OTHOR jobs out there" and also that perhaps i even got myself an interview at Siggraph and then I was promptely told "Dont let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, Mr. Miller."

Later on i appologized for havving a bad atitude. I will write more abbout my job at the Netly News later in this update.

The sun was just comming up as we finaly got back to where me and Granfather live in Texas. It was almost 3 days of straihgt driving. I was bringin the suitcases in the trailer when i heard allot of noise outside. Dad and granfather were screamin at each other.

Dad is pissed

He comes into the house muttoring curses under his breath an slapped the kitchon table hard. Usauly he controls his tempor good and i asked what the problem was and he told me that granpy PROMISED not to make a mess in the truck but now it looks like they will lose there deposit and probly worse.

I see the mess

I went in the truck and the fumes were almost ovorpoworing. My poor stepmom is standing off to the side tryin to get some carben dioxide goin on with a papper bag on her face as to keep from fainting. Through the haze pouring from the murkey cargo area I see there almost to the floor of the truck Granfathers evil yellow eyes staring at me with their dark red, diamand-shaped pupils from his hideous upside down face.

From thrashing arround in the truck for the last few hours of the ride all of his clothes were torned off and hanging in schreds from the metal springs and pipes. Granfather was uttorly nakad and coated in dust and residual couch fabric and stuffing. He looked like a giant, furrey wet cockroach. Or like some disgousting water bug that you put rubber cemment on and then roll him arround in an ashtray. The walls of the inside of the truck were absollutly spattored with what looked like tar and against the back wall was slapped on a giant, monstrous crap just hanging there.

"NOW THET THERE WORK OF ART," barked granfather loudly, gesticoulating behind himself with his one movable toe, "IS MUH CLASSIC 'KNUCKLEBALLER'."

"NOTICE THE TOTAL LACK OF SPIN, THE LOW VELLOCITY, THE LATE-BREAKING IMPACT. IF THET AIN'T WHUT YOU CALL 'PUSH TECHNOLLOGY' THEN YOU TELL ME WHUT IS, BOY."

Junior gets abused .