Family, Satan, Magic, Magick,
Children, Paul Douglas Valentine, PDV, PDValentine, WCSL, Worldwide
Church of Satanic Liberation, Satanism, Anton LaVey, Crowley, Ozzy,
Dio, Peter H. Gilmore, Gardening
My Scion, My Son, My Sock
January/11/2010 05:11 AM
Entry #1
Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and my birthday were great. I’m very fortunate with the family and friends I have.
Speaking of which...
Many would regret the sexual excesses I experienced in the 80s and early 90s — and the ramifications which since 2003 have come to the fore — but not I. Arthur Miller wrote “Maybe all we can do is end up with the right regrets.” I couldn’t agree more.
My son Chris is here for a visit and while I do hate the fact I missed so much of his life (a reoccurring theme with me, it seems), I’m blessed he’s embraced me as his dad and we get along so well. He’s a beautiful young man with a firm sense of himself and a razor sharp wit.
Just like his dad.
One major difference is this: while I sometimes come across like Felix Unger when I’m sick, etc., Chris takes illness and pain in stride. One week before he arrived he broke his ankle. Not severely, mind you, but still. AND! He drove here from the airport. Thankfully it was his left ankle he damaged. Needless to say we’re not taking any strolls in this ice and snow.
My gimpy sock.
To those unfamiliar with the sock bit, over the years detractors have clung desperately to the erroneous belief that anyone close to me (friends, family, children) are all figments of my imagination. Why? Who knows I’m not a psychologist. Nor do I care. Quite honestly it’s best that the potential whackjobs think it’s all make believe; that way I have little to worry about so far as them showing up at my family’s door.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Generic License.
Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and my birthday were great. I’m very fortunate with the family and friends I have.
Speaking of which...
Many would regret the sexual excesses I experienced in the 80s and early 90s — and the ramifications which since 2003 have come to the fore — but not I. Arthur Miller wrote “Maybe all we can do is end up with the right regrets.” I couldn’t agree more.
My son Chris is here for a visit and while I do hate the fact I missed so much of his life (a reoccurring theme with me, it seems), I’m blessed he’s embraced me as his dad and we get along so well. He’s a beautiful young man with a firm sense of himself and a razor sharp wit.
Just like his dad.
One major difference is this: while I sometimes come across like Felix Unger when I’m sick, etc., Chris takes illness and pain in stride. One week before he arrived he broke his ankle. Not severely, mind you, but still. AND! He drove here from the airport. Thankfully it was his left ankle he damaged. Needless to say we’re not taking any strolls in this ice and snow.
My gimpy sock.
To those unfamiliar with the sock bit, over the years detractors have clung desperately to the erroneous belief that anyone close to me (friends, family, children) are all figments of my imagination. Why? Who knows I’m not a psychologist. Nor do I care. Quite honestly it’s best that the potential whackjobs think it’s all make believe; that way I have little to worry about so far as them showing up at my family’s door.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Generic License.