This entry was posted on 1 Nov 2006, 8:40 AM and is filed under NaNoWriMo,Cosmic
morning pages,Cosmic scribbling.
"I'll need a retainer of $2,500 to continue your case." That's what my attorney told me this
morning. Pressing charges. You can press charges, but you can also have things that are
pressing, like pressing responsibilities, pressing commitments, pressing job tasks. We're
having an all-employee meeting today at work. This is your basic,
vanilla quarterly meeting, where numbers are thrown out as accusations. I was laid off
from this company once before, but I came back, after a brief stint as an online course
develeoper for a nightmarish home builder.
"I'll need a retainer of $2,500 to continue your case." I just did this two years ago, and I'm
doing it again. This time, it is for the safety of my children. Last time, it was to escape the
impending doom of being married to a lunatic.
Leaving your children so that you can provide for your children is a gut-wrenching
experience. If I could've waited it out, if I could've handled the drunken abuse that I was
one the receiving end of, I would have stayed. But no, I couldn't.
("Who do I make the check out to?")
"Just leave it blank. We can stamp it when you bring it in."
Petitioning for Mods
This entry was posted on 2 Nov 2006, 3:24 PM and is filed under NaNoWriMo,Cosmic
morning pages,Cosmic scribbling.
"Please review the attached Petition for Modification and let us know if it is satisfactory
So this is it. Come Monday, November 14, a petition will be presented to the court with
my affidavit attached. I haven't even seen this affidavit yet, but I'm sure it will contain
everything that Jackie and I discussed with him last week in his office.
I do not want to do this.
"Please review the attached Petition for Modification." I read something that I had not
been aware of. Jim had pulled Denise's hair and slapped her across the face. He also
threatened to kill her. This was all done in front of the children. This will not happen
I have to do this.
Tonight, I have to go to the house of one of the Girl Scout leaders and give her some
permission forms so that the girls can go to a movie with the troop on Veteran's Day.
Then, I'm going to stop at home and pick up a check that I received from my bank -- a
refund of some of my escrow from my mortgage -- so that my parents can sign it, as their
names are also on the check (and the mortgage). After that, I'm going to their house for
dinner, to show them the "Petition for Modification" and to talk about the custody battle.
"Please review the attached Petition for Modification." She is not going to be happy,
Denise. Hell hath no fury, right?
Hell hath no fury like this.
This entry was posted on 3 Nov 2006, 10:21 AM and is filed under NaNoWriMo,Cosmic
morning pages,Cosmic scribbling.
Main Entry: af·fi·da·vit
Etymology: Medieval Latin, he has made an oath, from affidare
: a sworn statement in writing made especially under oath or on affirmation before an
authorized magistrate or officer
"Affidare. He has made an oath." I went into Jim Buck's office this morning and I signed
my affidavit. Nothing ground-breaking in it, simply that Denise is not allowed to
"consume alcoholic beverages in the presence of the children" as stated in the Joint
Parenting Agreement, that she has failed to follow this order, and that the children have
witnessed violence in her home and they have been frightened on numerous occasions.
"Affidare. He has made an oath." Yes, I certainly have. Everything I do from now on is
strictly focused on the safety of my children. Everything I do is seen from this vantage
point. I walk to my car -- How does this affect my children? I get frustrated -- How does
this affect my children? I forgive others -- How does this affect my children?
Denise is going to find out what my intent is very soon. She will receive a letter in the
mail in 3 days. She will be furious.
(Nov 4 & 5 - Weekend)
A Novel of Some Sort
It’s the end of the night. All of the piss and vinegar is out of me now. I don’t even
remember what went on today. Not too much, really, just waiting for Thursday, the
impending court date, to come. Originally, we weren’t going to schedule it until
November 14, but my attorney isn’t available on that date, so we’re going to do it this
Thursday, November 9. Denise isn’t even aware that this is happening yet. Monday
morning, the letter will be placed in her mailbox by an unsuspecting letter carrier.
Monday night, she will open the letter, and she will scream in outrage.
Tomorrow is Sunday, and I will be going to Barnes and Noble to meet up with the
DeKalb NanoWriMo’s, a group of local writers who are attempting to write a novel of
some sort in one month’s time. I had done this before, in the November of 2002, finishing
my “novel of some sort” on Thanksgiving weekend at my in-law’s house in Louisville,
Kentucky. I will not be doing this this time around. I will type 50,000 letters, as in
characters, by the end of November, and I will not stop after that.
I will type 50,000 characters this month. I will type 50,000 characters next month. I will
type 50,000 characters every month, from now on, for the rest of my days.
And what is it, exactly, that is going to happen? This week, it is all going down. All of
the cooperation that was there, will be gone. All out war, declared in a letter, solidified in
a court room. Focus. What is happening at this moment. What is it that you are thinking?
I am sitting in Barnes and Noble with the other writers. I can’t think straight. Too many
distractions. I am wearing headphones. The music is helping, I think.
Tonight. Six o’clock. I go to church. Tomorrow, I go to work. Then, I wait. I wait, for the
phone call. “I can’t believe you!” (What do I say?) “You’re going to regret this.” (I’m
sorry, but this is how it has to be.)
I’m drinking hot apple cider. There are 15 other writers here attempting to write for 2
hours. I don’t see how you can write and be social at the same time, but maybe that’s the
new way of writing. There’s a newspaper columnist here. In our last meeting, he said that
he believed writing to be a social act. I do think that it can be a very intimate act of
In high school, I was a very competitive writer, and this spawned me to write prolifically.
I had a captivated audience in my classmates, and I was drawn to it like a magnet.
A half hour has passed since I arrived here. I didn’t start writing right at one o’clock.
First, I had to log in, then get something to drink (apple cider), then get some music going
on my laptop.
My anxiety is waiting, below the surface. If I exposed it, right now, it could be
transcribed as such: slap, here is the land, the land is ours, where is the walrus – big laugh
– and then the whole thing turns, the whole one ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy. The
hamster died recently. As to the exact date and time, I can’t say. I wasn’t home on Friday,
I didn’t check on him on Thursday, but when I got home on Saturday there was this awful
smell. As soon as I walked in, I said to Jackie, “something reeks in here.” Last night, I
went to feed him. He didn’t get up to organize his assorted seed mixture. He usually
moves the food from the food bowl to another location. I don’t know exactly where he
put this food, but I think he slept with it, the lazy bastard (God rest his soul). We never
did find out if the hamster was a “he” or a “she,” but its name was Coco. His name was
Coco DiNatale. His name was Coco DiNatale.
I should name my next pet Robert Paulsen. His name was Robert Paulsen.
If I wanted to tell you a story right now (as I very well should), it wouldn’t be about
getting custody of children. It would be about finding a way to live a life without
compromise. Let’s begin.
He didn’t agree with what they were asking him to do, and he was making this quite clear
to those involved. “I am not going to lie just to cover your asses. No fucking way.”
“But Ryan,” pleaded Josh, “it’s not lying. Just don’t say anything about the defective
microprocessor. Otherwise, we’re toast.”
“Hey, you guys do what you want, but if you start down this path, there’s no turning
back, and I for one am not willing to go to jail for some corporation that doesn’t give two
shits about me or anyone else for that matter.”
Ryan stood up, closed his eyes, and walked out of the conference room. (I don’t know
what they think they’re going to accomplish by hiding this. They’d rather make a few
extra grand this month than have the security of knowing that their asses aren’t on the
That’s the kind of fiction that is so far from what I know that it is completely worthless.
“We’re going to have to sell the house.” Now that’s something I can relate to.
The girls go to a before/after school program called OSCAR at their elementary school. I
just found out that the YMCA also has an “after-school only” childcare program for both
the school they go to now, Southeast in Sycamore, and the school that they will most
likely go to next year, Brooks in DeKalb. Its full name is Gwendolyn Brooks Elementary,
which I think is really cool. Gwendolyn Brooks is a very talented poet of color. She real
One hour has passed now. I don’t know if I can do this again next week. I’ll probably be
a wreck after this week. I get to be the one to make my entire family upset. Denise will be
furious, Madeline will be in total despair, and Jackie will be worried about what is going
to happen to her.
“They did move.” I just overheard a lady sitting at the next table say this. She has an
English accent. “They did move.” I just took a fifteen minute break and I stumbled upon
a new book by the writer of Kramer vs. Kramer. Very fitting. It was a bargain book, a
hardcover overstock for $5.98, so I bought it.
Speaking of overstock, I ordered a recumbent exercise bike from Overstock.com last
week. It’s supposed to take 1 to 10 days to ship. I never did get a notice that it shipped,
by when I returned home on Thursday night, it was there, this huge box just sitting on my
doorstep. I had just tried to cancel the order earlier that day, because I didn’t want to wait
3 to 6 weeks to get it. Well, the main reason was that I found it on eBay for $7 less than I
paid, and I no longer felt that I got a “stellar” deal.
We started watching “Our Town,” the play by Thornton Wilder, last night, but Jackie fell
asleep – so I turned it off. Paul Neuman is the narrator – he is most likely also the
producer. It is one of my favorite plays. I can’t really think of any other play that has had
a positive influence on me like that one.
And then, from out of nowhere, I start writing like Banana Yoshimoto:
Her eyes had a certain sadness to them. We would stay up all night without saying very
much of anything, but it was a very emotionally intimate night for both of us. It was as if
a light had turned on, piercing the darkness, and it illuminated our souls.
Message to my girls
Madeline & Jackie, I have something important that I want to talk to
This morning, I sent mommy a letter that explains that I want to take
care of you both a lot more.
Mommy isn’t going to be happy about this.
Mommy and I are going to talk to a man called a judge. He is going
to make sure that we are doing the best thing for both of you.
There is nothing to worry about. This is a good thing.
You will still see Mommy on weekends and during the week, just not
as much as you did before.
Mommy loves you very much.
I love you both with all my heart.
All event details on the bottom of this timeline have been taken directly from the police reports.
The information on the top of this timeline are additional significant events that do not have police reports to support them.
Also, Denise has told me the following:
1. She can’t make her rent payments. She lets Jim live with her so that he will pay her bills. (Oct 06)
2. She has been missing work because of problems getting a sitter for Brooke. She told me that her job is in jeopardy.
I have received numerous (3) calls from collections (NABATCO) concerning her auto loan delinquency.
Nov 6, 2006 – Girls told me that their furnace doesn’t work – they are using a space heater and they are all sleeping together
in their mom’s room. They haven’t had steady heat for 3 weeks. (The pilot light on the furnace goes out every few hours.)
Nov 7, 2006 – Madeline had another nightmare. She woke up in the middle of the night and came into my room. She said that
she couldn’t remember what it was about.
I am a train
I was riding my bike down a trail tonight that used to be a railroad
track. It was dark, and I felt what it must've been like for that train,
barreling into the night, and I thought:
I am a train, barreling into the night
And you cannot stop me
Ride me -- all board! -- I'll stop for you
But you can't change my direction
Or you'll derail me
Or find yourself flattened by the momentum.
I am a train, skating through the darkness
Join me, if you'd like
You can board me at the station
Hurry, or you'll miss me
Hurry -- this train is one non-stop non-transferable one-way mutha-
[word count: 13,251]