VISIT THE HIPPY'S NEW SITE: Spend some time chilling out with the hippy...He used to be "the most shroomtastic stoner on the internet!" until the UK banned fresh magic mushrooms. He's still "the biggest internet celebrity you've never heard of!" He'll make you laugh, he'll make you think...he'll make you wish you were a hippy too!

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

It's the middle of the night. I don't really have that much time, but I've still got more to share.

I called my mother on Monday and ended up speaking to her part-time home-helper. I got a bit more details about my father's death and the arrangements.

He passed at about 9:50pm on Friday night, local time, which was about 02:50am here in north London. By some coincidence I was actually awake at that time. I had finished work on Friday morning and stayed up most of the day so I could phone the states. I went to sleep in the mid-afternoon, with an alarm set in time to greet Mrs. Hippy when she returned from work. I slept through the alarm and didn't wake up until 1:30am, when Mrs. Hippy came up to bed. I watched tv until about 3:30am, so I was wide awake when he died. They considered phoning me after the funeral home collected his body, about 4am London time - I'd gone back to bed by then. It's just as well they didn't phone then, I would have missed the call.

My father was cremated on Monday, per his wishes. There will be no formal funeral, but my mother and older half brothers will scatter his ashes sometime this week. They plan on doing this in one of his favourite fishing spots, on a canal near where I grew up. It goes without saying that I'll be missing this event. I'll be there in spirit, if things like that are really possible.

My cunt of a half-sister really proved just how much of a piece of shit she is on Friday, by whinging furiously that my father left everything to my mother. She said all this to a visiting nurse, who she had never spoken to before. This was all relayed to my mother through a friend of the nurse. The nerve of that fucking cunt! Six hours before my father died and she's worrying about her share of the money. She's getting nothing, which is more than she deserves. I hope she dies slowly and soon and suffers the most unimaginable pain, followed by an eternity in hell getting butt-fucked by Satan without any lube. I am really fucking angry with her and I have never wished her more ill will than I do right now. How dare she! Don't husbands normally leave everything to their wives? Write me for her address and phone number, I'd be happy to give it out, preferably if you are a psycho-killer based in Maine, USA.

I found my father's obit online as well, it was printed in their local paper on Sunday. I could insert a link, but I prefer not to do so. One, it would reveal my identity, but also my father didn't know about this blog, but if he did, he wouldn't like it. All my talk about drugs and easy sex would not have impressed him.

His obit really didn't do him justice, it mentions some of the things he'd done, but it certainly didn't capture his spirit, his generous nature, his steadfast dependability as both a father and person. At some point in the near future I'll write something here about who he really was. Not tonight, I couldn't really do it while I was working, it would be too hard.

My younger brother is still not in contact with me, not that I expected he would be. The real problem is he hasn't been in contact with my mother. Messages have been left for him, but he has not returned her call. As if she doesn't have enough to worry about!

He must have deduced by now that my father is gone, if he hasn't then he's obviously not checking his machine. If he does know, and he hasn't phoned, then he is just being selfish, or perhaps he's too mentally ill to deal with it. Quite frankly, there is no real excuse for causing my mother, an elderly invalid, additional stress and upset at one of the worst times in her life. I'm rarely ever interested in "why", as you regular readers of this blog will know. It's just cruel and sadistic and my mother deserves better.

My mother has asked what's going on with my brother, I've finally told her that I haven't spoken to him in just over 2 months. I had to, I didn't have a choice. I wasn't going to lie and to be honest, I didn't know what else I should say. I don't really care of I never hear from him again, matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I never will. My mother doesn't deserve this, neither do I, but mental illness is a funny thing. That's funny peculiar, and not funny ha-ha.

Catch ya later masturbater!
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