Thomas Wictor

Posts Tagged ‘Edward Wictor’

The worst year of my life

This was the worst year of my life. For over a decade, Tim and I would say to each other, “This was the worst year yet,” but 2013 was the absolute bottom. I say than knowing full well that I’m daring the fates to make 2014 even worse, but it can’t be. The depths have…

 

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The first Christmas without Mom and Dad

This is the first Christmas without Mom and Dad. What I feel mostly is strangeness. When you get to be old yourself—I’m fifty-one—it’s incredibly bizarre to no longer have access to people who were there your whole life. Dad’s dying process was so sudden, unnecessary, and ghastly that when he finally passed away, it was…

 

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Reining in the wolf

I used to spend hours engaging in online fights with strangers. Every single day. For years. It was a way to express my rage. And it was utterly destructive for everyone. It attracted maniacs, one of whom stalked me for about seven months. After long online fights, I felt worse than I did before. I’d…

 

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The Great Ham Debacle of 1993

When I read news articles and listen to the radio, the one constant is the state of confusion people have about what motivates the bad decisions we see being made daily. Our government is utterly dysfunctional, companies do really crazy things that alienate their customers, individuals mess up their lives to a level of parody,…

 

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Can humor always be found?

Yesterday Robert Schulslaper interviewed me at length for Fanfare. The question of my sense of humor came up a few times. I have a rather dark sense of humor. It’s not completely dark; for example I find this ad extremely funny. The two actresses are absolute geniuses. This Monty Python sketch can still make me…

 

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I shot a bullet into the air

Well, I didn’t shoot the bullet. But somebody did. Ever seen video of people shooting weapons in celebration? Like this? People do it all the time where I live. It’s a cultural thing. The show Mythbusters did an episode called “Bullets Fired Up.” They concluded that if a bullet is fired perfectly vertically, it’ll fall…

 

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No more kowtowing to Snake Man

Boy, was my father defensive. He was always ready to take offense, no matter how innocuous the comment. And he was the master of the bait-and-switch. His finest moment came when he decided to spend the day doing yard work to prove that he didn’t have terminal cancer. He mowed, trimmed, clipped, and raked until…

 

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The cost of the freedom to write, part one

I could never have published this while my parents were alive. In fact, it was the deaths of my parents that gave me means and freedom to write whatever I want. Would I give it up to have them alive again? In a second. As flawed as they were, I wish they both could’ve lived…

 

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The cost of the freedom to write, part two

Greg left the party every half-hour or so, saying he had to go home to check on the sprinklers, or make a phone call, or “do…uh, something.” He came back a little more friendly and a little looser each time. Greg planned on moving his family up north somewhere; he wasn’t any more specific than…

 

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Noreen in the Rat Palace

I’ve received several queries about Noreen in the Rat Palace. One came from Scott Thunes. So I’ll tell the story. First, an explanation: Ghosts and Ballyhoo is an art project. It isn’t a memoir per se. Everything in it is true, but I wrote it in order to elicit a certain reaction among readers. I…

 

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