Cups and balls. . . no. . . Cup of piss

Full Circle

I started my day by taking the bus to Therapeutic Health Services, the Summit branch of the East Side Recovery Center. It was a year and a half ago that I was there getting evaluated to see if I had a drug or alcohol problem. My wife and her Cunt Lawyer, Slitdress McCumfull had manipulated the legal system to make this mandatory. So, I get evaluated by Mr. Ben Ross who in his professional determination decides that I do not have a drug or alcohol problem.

Funny thing about selfish ex wives who want too blow all of their dead fathers life savings, a large chunk of, on the fore mentioned bitch fuck lawyer (aprox. $40,000 spent on this whore). The high price legal slut, says to the judge, I don't like Mr. Ross's evaluation, and he should have to go through another evaluation, and another and another until we get the results we want.

All I want is overnight visits with my kids. I never posed a threat to them in the decade of marriage. I was a good father to them and a good husband despite what my alcoholic wife tries to remember. Look back in this blog, to the very beginning, I never stopped trying, I never stopped caring.

When Moira explained to me the hoops she was going to have me jump through in order to see my kids I pleaded with her not to go that hateful route. I told her by making me piss in a cup she would trigger a hateful cycle in me that would surely effect the kids. For a year and a half, I saw the kids 2 - 3 times a week. I would bring them to my home, fix them dinner, do their homework with them, love them unconditionally. I refused to piss in any cup on principle. I have lived my life not answering to anyone and I wasn't going to start now.

My kids have not spent the night at my house in almost two years. I have not given them a bath (an activity we used to love), tucked my kids into their beds or read the a bedtime story. I stood on a principle and and my punishment was no overnight visitations. This was OK because I was seeing the often. I was safe enough to take 3 kids under the age of 7 swimming, hiking, drive with them in my car yet I was denied the privilege of getting them to sleep.

Bottom line, It's OK to be a drunk, It's not OK to be a pot head.

Moira and her live in lover Dom (sounds like Tom), are happy as in pigs in shit, living large on a rapidly dwindling trust. She has bought a piece of land and is building a house on it. Now my kids are an hour and a half away, and I need overnight visits. I have a second drug evaluator on my side, a lawyer who will work for free on my side and things are finally moving forward.

Back to the beginning of this post, I go in to piss in a cup and it was much harder than I thought. Not sure if it was because Mark was in the bathroom with me doing his job or if the principle of the thing was locking up my "thing". You might say I had a bit of stage fright. I finally produced the desired amount of urine to analyze and that was that. . . or was it.

As I left to catch my bus to the market to street perform, something ugly happened in my mind. I became consumed in hate. Something I had avoided up until that moment. That fucking bitch was raking me across the coals just to make me feel like this. My drug use was never an issue, until she wanted this surprise divorce. We both smoked pot, big deal. . . we also popped tabs of acid at grateful dead shows. CUNT!!!

I got to the market and set up. I wasn't sure if I could work. I was so angry and hateful.

Something magical happened next. I started a show and gathered a crowd. I made my audience smile and laugh. By bringing them some happiness, I received some myself. I was no longer consumed with hate and I could feel love inside my heart.