Thomas Wictor

Archive for the ‘Me’ Category

A role I never envisioned for myself

As a child I wanted to be a stuntman. Then I wanted to be a cop. Then I lost my bearings and careened from one desire and occupation to another. There was never a method to my madness; I just had no clue what I was supposed to do or be. And now I occupy…

 

Read More

The son of a certified eccentric

My mother CeeCee was brilliant. As I discovered today, she was also a certified eccentric. Sometime in the late nineties, I got a traffic ticket from a sheriff’s deputy working for the second-most corrupt city in the United States. It was ticket for a “rolling stop,” meaning I didn’t come to a complete stop at…

 

Read More

That’s not therapy. THIS is therapy.

The Isla Vista spree killer was in therapy since the age of eight, including almost every day while in high school. That’s total baloney. He didn’t undergo therapy. THIS is therapy, what I will now tell you about myself. In 1998 I was at the end of my rope. My career as a music journalist…

 

Read More

The right way to report on these things

Last night Elliot Rodger murdered six people and injured seven others in the Isla Vista neighborhood beside the University of California at Santa Barbara. Rodger himself was killed, either by sheriff’s deputies or by his own hand. Normally I oppose publicizing mass shootings, because almost nobody ever describes the situation accurately. People use them to…

 

Read More

Your fate is to have free will

Today I found an artifact that had gone missing. I’d heard about it for years, but I’d never laid eyes on it. Now I’ve examined and touched it. Part of me had wondered if it really existed. Does it prove anything? Yes. It proves that our fate is to have free will. I broach the…

 

Read More

Remembering a protector

Currently I’m doing research for my next novel, constructing a life that never was. Or may have been. Who knows? Part of the novel I’m going to write takes place in Tyler, Texas, where I lived from 1972 to 1975. Even so, everything in the book is false. I made it all up. It’s just…

 

Read More

Predators beware. Someone’s got my back

Doing research for my next novel, I discovered something: A lot of the people who made my life miserable have come to horrific ends. Predators beware. In 1972 my family moved to Tyler, Texas. Though I’d been bullied in Venezuela, what Texans did to me was so brutal it was like satire. My siblings and…

 

Read More

New rules of engagement

What made the suicides of my parents so painful was that Mom and Dad kept assuring us that they wanted to live. They said one thing and did the opposite. I’ve dealt with people like that my whole life, but I was nearly killed by my mother and father reaching out to us and pushing…

 

Read More

The arrival of the man intended

Mom always told me that I was the happiest baby and toddler she’d ever seen. To be frank, I have no memory of being happy. Today, however, I announce the arrival of the man intended. He showed up after fifty-one years. You might find it hard to accept why I’m now truly, permanently happy; the…

 

Read More

A post I’ve been told to not write, Part One

I’ve been told to not write this, but I’m going to anyway. I think it’s important that a misconception be addressed, and I also don’t like the direction our country is heading. I’ve been there, and you’re not going to like what you’re helping create. When I say it’s important to address a misconception, I…

 

Read More