Chapter Five: The woven path continues

Oddly enough, shortly after Stacy’s realization that we had met at the Long brothers house, I would soon have the same type of recollection. I rememebered being at the college dance bar Cochrane’s on the UIUC campus. It was summer so it was filled with a mix of townies, local high school students with fake IDs, and UIUC summer students. My friends and I were there hoping to find girls that would talk to us. Our modus operandi was to go t a bar and look available. While we thoought we looked ‘available’, girls read us as ‘desperate’ and that’s definitely not sexy. I’ve always been woefully bad at approaching girls on any platform especially bars. We were at Cochrane’s on Little Kings night: $0.25 each. Not bad for an 8oz bottle. We’d all throw in and get a couple of cases over which the bar would throw ice to keep cold at the table, and we were good to go. 6$ for a case! Cochrane’s was, in a word, awesome. They had the loudest music the most slamming beats, and was, in my mind, simply the best bar on campus. My ‘friends’, jackasses they were, hated it. They all preferred R&R Sports grill. OK fine….R&R’s wasn’t a bad place and we basically lived there, so the only way I could get The Jackasses to go to Cochrane’s was on Little Kings night.

I love the Dance floor. I love the Four on the floor beat. I love DJing I’m also an avowed trainspotter- the vinyl spinning on two (or even more) turntables is hypnotizing. In the club or at the party, I’m entranced with the DJ. I try to leave them alone, just like I want to be left alone when I’m in the booth. Not that I don’t want to engage with the crowd, I love turning people on to new music. But I’m in the Zone and its hard for me to talk to people. So at Cochrane’s I’d just go to the dance floor and feel the music and the lights. There I was grooving to the music when I saw a girl….same feelings as before. Cold sweats, sweaty palms, rapid heart beat, feel like throwing up…At first I chalked it up to the disgusting number of Little Kings I had imbibed by then. 40? 50? More than likely it was only like 6. I approached this girl and HOLEE SHEEIT! She responded positively to me! She said that she was a Parkland student, but she was staying in the UIUC Dorms. Now I was more than intrigued. I had just spent my entire freshman year at Illinois State University learning how to DJ instead of doing any schoolwork. I probaly spent 60 hours a week in the DJ booth practicing until, oh shit. Schools out aaannndd…..yeah…’Thank you for your time Lincoln, but we recommend you seek alternative academic pathways at another institution’. Ooops…..now I loved Dorm life and I actually loved College. I just had misplaced focus. I was looking for a fast track back to the dorms and this girl obviously had a way. If, according to this girl, one cold attend Parkland AND live in the Dorms, then I needed to learn how. I had an ‘in’ to keep conversation going. All I wanted to do was approach her and maybe get her number….but now I had an actual non-creeper reason to talk to her!

My mother married a fucking asshole cocksucker shortly after we moved to Champaign. I hated him the moment she brought him home; he immediately treated us like we were in the way, and I couldn’t wait for her to break up with him. Before dickface, she had a slew of numerous boyfriends. Some were cool, some not so much, but dickface seemed to go out of his way to treat my brother and me like pieces of unwanted shit. We were an avenue for him to act like billy badass; treating pre-teens the way he did must have made him feel like a man. We were communicated to with screaming and yelling 99% of the time. We were beaten up even at the most imperceptible slight. I couldn’t wait for my mother to drop this cocksucker. She’d broken up with others due to the way they talked down to us-so this COULDN’T last. My mother used to be my best friend. I’d tell her everything and I knew she truly used to care for my well being. The last day I remember actually loving her, she wasn’t feeling too well. The stress of life was grinding her down. So I asked her to go on a bike ride with me. We rode our bikes to Robeson school and she took pics along the way. She still has them. Shortly after this day, dickface coined a new name for me due to how much my mother and I talked. JETJAW. He went on to tell me about a dream he had about how much I supposedly talked. He wasn’t joking around and my mother, deplorable bitch that she is, all she did was laugh even though she could see how much it hurt me. I swore on tat day I would never talk to her again. And I haven’t. Before I stopped talking to her altogether two years ago, her biggest complaint was that I never teold her anything about myself and that she didn’t know anything about me.. When she told my brother and I she was actually marrying this fucking cocksucker I had the thought of killing myself. At ten fucking years old. I had the thought of hanging myself from the tree in the front yard that I loved to climb. The reason I couldnt, was that dickface is mean to animals, and I couldn’t leave my beloved tortiseshell cat, Spook, behind. For the rest of my life not ONCE not EVER did she EVER intervene or try to stop they way Phillip and I were treated. To this day, she’s so SHIT SCARED that another man will leave her, she’ll kowtow to keep this fucking cunt in her life. She’s even named her fucking dogs after him. So now she’s dead to me; even if she decided to leave him, it’s too late for any type of forgiveness. I tried multiple times to talk to her about this, but with her level of denial, malignant narcissisim, and cognitive dissonance, she will never have an appropriate grasp on reality. Once my mother told me that the reason she and dickface didnt have kids, was that they disagreed on how to raise children and if they had kids they’d probably get a divorce.

REALLY?? REALLY??

SO ITS OK for her to sacrifice her fucking children for this cocksucker?? They’d DISAGREE how to raise HIS kid, but as far as Philip and I are concerned, we’re totally expendable. As an example, I was told every day that no one cared what I was thinking. That nothing I said mattered to anyone. Any question I had was met with “YOU DONT HAVE TO KNOW EVERYTHING!” As long as another man doesn’t leave her, how we were treated was irrelevant. Phillip truly feels he deserved the way he was treated. There’s more but I probably shouldn’t go in to too much more detail. My mother is miserable now. So good. She fucking deserves it. Her actions and her inaction has resulted in her current situation. I hope she dies as miserable, isolated, and alone as Phillip and I felt growing up.