Thomas Wictor

Archive for the ‘Me’ Category

No pain at all

Recently a very angry, quite insane person demanded to know how I could write so much, since I have arthritis in both hands. Well, here’s a news bulletin: It hurts. But my alternatives are limited. I could try this, I suppose. Or this. When it comes to the electric bass, though, I’m without options. I…

 

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Grampa can say anything

I have far too many bizarre physical problems to list. Here are the major ones. Three kidneys, three cowlicks, a baby tooth with no permanent tooth under it, no gastrocnemius on my right calf, the longest ear canals in medical history, and Meniere’s disease. The weirdest issue is that when I shave, the skin on…

 

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How to piss me off

A few days ago a Scottish mental patient went off on me like nobody has in years. I don’t know the guy. He objected to this post; I can’t remember what he said exactly because the moderator of the site deleted all of his comments. Here’s the gist. “You’re a narcissistic, childish, aging failure and attention…

 

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The joys of having a nonfunctional brain

The last coherent thing my father said to me was, “It’s hell when your brain doesn’t work.” Since I’d been knocked for a loop by the knowledge that we’d come to the end of the road, and now he’d have to go into hospice, I spoke without thinking. “Well, think of it as a vacation,”…

 

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A canoe ride is worth a thousand books

Now that I’m more engaged on social media, I see lots of things that annoy me. What it boils down to is I find it distressing that so many people prefer futile gestures to actually making a difference in a real human being’s life. Most of the links I’m sent are about “teaching” others how…

 

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Memories no longer hurt

For most of my life, memories were torture. They were like pitiless satires of my aspirations, mocking everything I’d ever attempted. All I had to do was try to sleep, and I’d be flooded with memories of disaster, horror, pain, humiliation, and failure. Around 2007 it started to change, as I realized that each catastrophe…

 

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Listen only to yourself

Yesterday I saw a video about two close friends named Erik Fitzgerald and Matt Swatzell. Actually, I watched only part of the video. I knew the second it started what it would be about: One man killed a loved one of the other man, and now the two are friends. And that’s precisely the story….

 

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There is no wrong decision

A fellow defrauded author contacted me about his experiences with Mike Albee and Lura Dold of Sandpiper Publicity, who scammed me of $40,000 by exploiting the suicides of my parents in 2013. I just sent off two e-mails to what I’m sure will be interested parties. Another person pointed out that Shannon Bromham—who loved me…

 

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Ghost rediscovered

The Second Ghost is “Jennifer,” an American girl I knew in Stavanger, Norway. I played a part in her downfall, which you can read on pages 15 to 17 of Ghosts and Ballyhoo. I still have a few notes she wrote me, two photos I snagged from a box of rejects left over from the…

 

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You are quite safe here

The first time I heard “Paranoimia,” by Art of Noise, I was in a cafe in Tokyo. There was a video jukebox by the door. Since I loved the band, I chose this unknown song, curious to see what it was like. I was floored. It wasn’t just the brilliant musicianship or the imagery; the…

 

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