F & V: Online

Here is an online version of Flowers & Vortexes. Enjoy!

Situation Update

I was very angry but trying to think rationally when I wrote my previous post (a journal entry that really doesn’t belong on this blog, just because it’s not anything as described in the title of this blog, but I digress). Of course, I didn’t beat the man senseless, or even scream at him for that matter, those days are over for me, at least the fighting. But I do feel, since I involved you that I should reveal some relevant information, to 1.) I admit, to further explain but indeed demonize, not the man, but his behavior; and 2.) To clarify the situation to those of you whom I’ve involved.

Okay. This is what I know for sure.

Alex came home from practice the other night and cried, and said he was scared to go back to practice because a man with a red face (indicating that he was angry) walked up to him, after tackling his son, and told him: "you’d better not do that boy!" then stared at him for the rest of the practice, which intimidated my son. (And Alex is the star player; the coach begged me not to take him off the team. Although I hadn’t given it a thought: digressing further.)

I had been meditating on the subject and even practiced it, practiced being cool with this guy, and saying the right things, staying focused as not to stray from the point and respond with character assassinatipns and so forth. We had sent a note, attemting to arrange for the boy’s father to call me when he arrived home that evening. I had it written out, as I said, so I wouldn’t stray from the point of the confrontation.

I had to let this man know this was unacceptable:

Hello. I am James Eric Watkins.


And your name is?

Did you walk onto the field, during practice, where your son and my son were instructed to tackle each other, proceed to yell at my son and continue to stare at him for the entirety of the practice?

And if so, why?

Tackling is a part of tackle football, hence the word tackle.

I would appreciate, in the future, if you have any grievances about the way my son plays or practices tackle football (and Alex didn’t do anything wrong, I know mt son, plus another mother saw the whole thing. They were merely doing as instructed, and the asshole...I mean gentlemen just got pissed about. Just grow up man...digressing...diogressing....yeah....), please address them to his coach, his mother, or myself.

But the guy didn’t give me a chance. He called yelling and screaming, cussing his ass off. I end up just saying: "listen to me, listen to me. No one should intimidate a child" But he wouldn’t listen, just deny that he would do such a thing (he probably goes to church every Sunday morning, the fuck.). So I stopped him and said:" well. I can’t make you be man enough to admit what you did was wrong. But I keep you from doing it again. "Because I’LL BE SITTIN’ RIGHT NEXT TO YA." and I waited for afew seconds. No response. So I hung up.

So I called the president of the football league to arrange a meeting, with the coach, myself, the guy, and the president, just before practice. The meeting never happened. Practice was cancelled, and I’m not sure the guy would have shown anyway. I was the only one at the park, waiting like dumbass in a fucking hail storm, come to find out the man had expressed concern to the president about what I might do to him. How guilty is that...digressing..digrossing...yeah

All I wanted to do was to get my point across that this, again, is just unacceptable behavior for an adult to display:

Okay. I’m going to be brief and to the point, actually three points.

First, I would ask that you allow me to say my piece, completely, before responding, without interruption.

I have three points to make:

1.) No parent, including myself, has the right to speak in an intimidating way (attempting to frighten my son, so he would avoid tackling the man’s son) to a child while they are at football practice, especially another parent’s child.

2.) Intimidating another parents child is unacceptable behavior.


And 3.) I would appreciate in the future, if you have grievances about the way my son plays or practices tackle football, please address them to the coach, his mother, or myself.

Thank you for your time.


The guy won’t do it again. I’m sure. I’ve outed him to the president, the coach and several parents. Plus, I think he’s felt a little intimidated himself as of late, so I’ll just let it go.

I think I’ll just write the guy a letter, so I can have closure, and just continue to be....

Thanks guys. I love you.



your favorite lunatic, James

Roll One!

Okay. Here we go. I’m being tested. To see if this enlightenment stuff has any real weight to it. I know it does mind you. but do I have it? I mean do I really have it? What it takes to take the high road. My son comes home from football practice. (We didn’t have the fucking money, but hey, I’ll go without so he can have a chance to have what I didn’t. you know the fucking story right?)

Anyway my boy is good. (It’s not cause he’s my boy. He’s a natural at everything) He makes a tackle tonight. The boy’s father yelled at my son. Told him something to the effect of "you don’t do that boy!" or some such shit. Alex told me, and I fucking (I’m so predictable) went the fuck off. I wanted to know the boy’s father’s name. Come to find out he lives right down the fucking road. I rush to the car. Tammy’s screaming "please no. I don’t have bond money. I have no money. There’s only enough gas for me to get to work tomorrow. You’re above this. You are above this. You’ve came so far. You are...."

Whatever it was I stopped. I will try to handle this like an adult without violence. In an ideal conversation I might say, or hopefully walk up to him and say: "I couldn’t wait to meet the man who intimidates a nine-year-old boy at a football practice...for tackling another boy, who happens to be his son, in a tackle football practice where they are instructed to do as such. I am James, the nine-year-old boy’s, Alex’s, father. And what might your name be, I’d call you sir, but I’m not sure the term applies to anyone who would display such behavior, to a child no less.
But face to face. Man. I don’t know. This isn’t just an issue. This is my son. I need to meditate. I’m sending my number for the man to call me. I hope I can be cool. I want to. This is just unacceptable. I’ll have to be there. with him. All the time now. The heat’s too much for. I nearly had a heat stroke a few years back, I’ve been ruined everysense. Bla...bla...boring noise....
Maybe meeting in the middle of my bipolar madness is the way. Something like. I’m James. Alex’s dad. Imabout the crazy mother fucker I know, and I live just right down the road from ya. So next time you address my son in that manner, I’m gonna come down there and split your fucking head wide-open. So. Do we understand each other?

"Roll another one, just like the other one."


Meditate.
Translate this anger
into positive energy.


Did I mention roll one?