Eudoramail has been down, apparently, and Steve didn't receive my last email to him. I resent it this morning. MrB
South Africa
Part 37
Hi Gary. Monday: Wingnut thought that Craig had climbed into me again when he saw me [all bruised and battered]. I didn't want to get into a whole thing about my dad. I told the grommet about me sparring with him, but not about how I feel [about my dad]. Actually, the mood with my dad has gotten a bit better. Hey, we're not like the greatest of friends, but he asked me if I wanted to train a bit with him on Monday when he got home from work. We held the bag for each other. Didn't say a helluva lot, but he said thanks when we were done. It's weird [that] we don't know what to say to each other. I think that the exercise probably helps him to relax or something.
Wingnut was here earlier, and we did about an hour in the gym. I showed him how to use some of the gym kit properly so he doesn't kill himself. He wants to put the heaviest fucking weights on [the barbell], and then get a hernia trying to push it. He didn't stay for too long cos he was going cycling again. But his whole mood is changing for the better.
Yesterday he was back, and wanted to workout in the gym again with the kit. I worked out on the step and rowing machines. I need to get my fitness levels up. He challenged me to situps and pushups and creamed me. I managed about seventy crunches, while he went to over 120. The same thing happened with pushups. It's mainly my stamina that's fucked up. He wasn't even breathing heavily or sweating, and I was gasping. Not the kind of thing to prove what a hero I am.
When it was time for him to leave, I walked with him to his house, then headed for the beach with my board. I need to surf more. I was totally fit when I was surfing every day.
"Where's the pic?"
Shuddup and listen. Got a few looks down there [at the beach]. At my face, Gary. I look like a fucking gargoyle. Surf wasn't that great, but I paddled quite a lot. Spent the whole time paddling and getting out of breath, then paddling again. I felt so fucking great after that! I think it's the salt water that does it.
Met a guy from school in the surf, and I went to his place for a while. He rolled a joint, which we shared, and raved out to some techno sound that he had.
I was pretty fucked, so I didn't want to walk home with my board. I phoned Bruce. He came around to my bud's house and collected my sorry ass hahahahaha. He was in another pissed off mood.
"What's up, bro?" I asked as I got into his car.
"Nothing."
"Kak [pronounced kuk = shit], you're lower than shark shit, man."
"I don't know what's wrong. OK? Drop it."
"I know what you need, bro." Then I leaned over and tried to unbutton his jeans, but those mothers were tight, and he didn't even bother to move to make it easier for me. "OK, so maybe you don't need that. I'll steer, and then you can blow me."
"Yeah, yeah, Steve. Fuck you, bro."
"Yebo, I can arrange that too." A period of silence followed my attempts to cheer him up. Eventually, I lost my patience. "Oh, well, fuck. Drop me here and I'll walk [the rest of the way] if you're all fucked up, man."
So he stopped the car and fumed over the steering wheel, waiting for me to get out. I stared at him for ages, but he just ignored me. I was pissed off, so I got out of the car and took my board off the roof. I threw the straps through the open window, and watched him wheely off [tires screeching].
I was still spaced, but I managed to get home OK. Avoided running into my folks cos I didn't put any eyedrops in, and I knew that my eyes would've been fucking red and glassy.
Bruce phoned a little while later and said he was sorry about what happened. He's stressing about this whole [selling drugs] scene, and worried about what's going to happen when he quits at the end of the week. I told him it was OK, and that it was cool that he even bothered to come and fetch me. Then he asked if I wanted to hit a club with him for a few drinks.
Well, we ended up in Loop Street, and went to a coupla clubs - had maybe two beers the whole time. He disappeared for a short while, and I knew it was to sell [drugs]. He's got to get rid of his stash. It was just a total relax.
Got home about 2 this morning, so don't even ask how school went today.
Not sure if there's a problem with Cody's email. There's been zip for three days, which is actually cool cos there was a fuckload coming through every day, and I don't know how Cody handled the mail pressure.
Cheers,
Your friend and the Codeman's
Steve
> Hi Gary. Monday. Chris thought that Craig had climbed into me again when he saw me.
G'day Stevie Wonder :)
You sound a bit pissed off that Eudoramail has stuffed up again. It used to happen to Cody sometimes, but he always knew that I would respond to his mail even if my replies weren't getting through. One time I had to forward a stack of stuff I'd written to him, and I drove my ISP crazy trying to get them to solve the prob. Anyway, I've forwarded my last email to you, so I hope you get it. Never ever think that I'm too busy or whatever to care about you. I've said it before and I'll say it again - you're the most important person in my life right now. The Codeman has left you in my care. :) Actually, I think the Codeman has also left me in your care. :)
Am I surprised that your dad has asked you to train with him? Not in the least. That confrontation you had the other day was a way of releasing a lot of built-up frustration over many years. So now there's a vacuum that needs to be filled, and I'm sure he wants to fill it with love. OK, so you don't know what to say to each other. That's the way it is with strangers, and you are strangers. Time will fix that problem... plus a willingness to get to know each other. Actually, you should ask your dad about his youth. Find out what makes him tick, and what has moulded his character. Start by asking him about being a junior boxing champ. Why did he choose that particular sport? Maybe he has something in common with Mark.
If you ask your dad about his youth, it will be like talking to another teen. I'm pretty sure that your dad has never talked to anyone - let alone a teen - about his teen years, so it will give him an opportunity to relive and analyze his past. Maybe he will find some answers there too.
I received an interesting email from Francois this morning, Cc'd to you. I hope you got it. It explains a lot about father/son relationships. Do you know how many times my dad told me he loved me? Not one in all his 76 years. How many times did I tell him that I loved him? Not one. It was the same with my mom, and it's still the same with my three bros. Did I love my parents? No. Do I love my bros? No. I didn't know what love was until I met Cody. Not quite true. I didn't know what love was until I met Kelly, my dachshund/kelpie cross who died in 1990. Her death totally devestated me. She was my constant companion and best friend. I was able to share with her everything that I could never share with human beings... emotionally, that is. Maybe she prepared me for meeting the Codeman. And he prepared me for meeting you.
Your dad said thanks when you were done training. That probably took quite a bit of courage. He's reaching out to you, Steve. It's like you're a couple of nervous lovers on your first date hehehe. Hey, it's a very encouraging sign, and I think the relationship between you and your dad is about to gather momentum like a rollercoaster.
Well, whaddaya know! Wingnut's mood is changing for the better! I wonder how that happened. :) Yep, he likes the gym, but he also likes you... and he likes showing off to you. He knows that he can parade around like Mr Awesome in front of you, and you'll lap it up like a puppy. But it's also good for you cos he's inspiring you to lift your fitness level. There's a bit of friendly competition going on, and that's a very good thing. However, I have to say that neither of you has inspired me to raise my fitness level. Bugger that. I'll leave all the panting and sweat to you guys. I discovered a long time ago that you can't exercise and drink wine at the same time, although I did discover that the water bottle that you attach to your bicycle doesn't necessarily need to contain water. :)
Wingnut was back the next day? My, my. The poor kid's probably got a crush on you. Can't understand why, though. Tall, blonde, built, handsome, cute butt - all the usual mundane stuff. Maybe Wingnut needs to visit an optometrist.
120 pushups, huh? And 120 situps? Piece of cake. Even I can do that. Now, let's see. Today's March 7. That means in 240 days time it'll be... hmmm. I ain't too great at math. But it'll be about 8 months from now, so check with me next October to see if I've done all the 120 pushups and 120 situps.
Gargoyle's are cool. I haven't told anybody this before but I've got a thing about gargoyles. I never thought I'd actually meet a real live one, though; especially one that surfs! So, there ya go, if you live long enough, all kinds of cool things can happen hehehe. I've attached a pic of a friend of mine whose job is to mind the front door.
It's healthy that you balance your ego with a dose of self-effacement - like the way you talk about how Wingnut outperforms you in the gym. It's OK to be aware of your gifts, but it's also important to be aware of your faults. Your reluctance to be a hero says a lot about you. :)
Actually, I'm a bit of a worry, if you didn't know that already. When I start reading your emails, and you're talking about you and Wingnut in the gym, or surfing, I start visualizing the situation. Whammo! Instant boner. You'd think a bloke my age would be past all that hormone nonsense, and be able to conduct himself with dignity and decorum. Mind you, if I limited my convos to guys my age, I think I'd expire from boredom. Why reminisce about the "good old days" when the good old days are happening right now? I owe you big time, Steve. You keep my mind young.
You can keep your techno music, though. Tolerance for noise diminishes as you get older. Then you discover something wonderful. PEACE!
I'm chuffed that you're surfing again, and focusing on getting better at it. I can't tell you how badly I want you styling like you used to, and impressing your peers. Not too impressed with you sharing a joint with your mate, though, and arriving home glassy eyed. I won't lecture you. No point in telling you what you already know. Besides, you might start lecturing me about drinking too much wine hehe.
I don't blame Bruce for stressing about "this whole scene" of quiting the drug trade. At least he'll have you to lean on. You've paved the way for him like he helped pave the way for you. I regret having criticized him earlier. He's a good friend, and friends like that are worth their weight in pecs. :)
When I update the site today with Steve 037, I'll include Francois's mail, and also one from a guy named Phil, who wrote some cool stuff. He praised me for trying to help you but, to me, being your friend is an honor and a privilege. Anyway, I'll comment on that a bit more on the site.
Meantime, you might wanna see a pic of me in trackpants. I was trying to put on one of my old shoes but it didn't quite fit anymore. Can't figure out why.
I've just taken a peek into my crystal ball. I can see a guy sitting on the beach, watching you surf. And after the session, as you walk up the sand toward this guy, with your board tucked under your arm causing your bicep to bulge, he'll say to you, "Hey, Steve, I had no idea you could carve up the waves like that! You were awesome!"
"Maybe I take after you, dad." :)
Your friend and the Codeman's
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