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Divorce in the Age of Social Media

A Very Cusper Christmas!

Postcard

Image By: Cusper Lynn

A Very Cusper Christmas!

by

Cusper Lynn

My friends have been concerned about me. The holiday season is upon us, and I have expressed none of the joy that they expect. My usual exuberance and anticipation has been replaced by resignation and a nearly mechanical plodding through the hours and days that measure the remaining distance in time to the holiday that falls upon December the 25th.

Historically speaking, I am normally enthusiastic about this holiday. It’s when people of good will gather together and express their faith in irrational optimism. There can be no greater good than the idea of a vague and unspecified beneficence to raise up one’s hope for humanity.

For years, and long after the holiday’s more clearly identifiable fictions were exposed to me by the well-meaning and the vindictive, I sought to be the good I would find in this holiday. I could spend months planning and preparing. In the weeks leading up to it, I would sing, skip and generally annoy the hell out of those unable to find the joy of existence contagious.

But not this year. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Giving Thanks for the Tribal Gathering

    Image  by Daniel Morris

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 59:  Giving Thanks for the Tribal Gathering

    If you think that the Thanksgiving gathering was a somber affair, of reflecting upon the horrors of the decimation of my domestic life with wringing hands and the worried faces of extended relatives, you would be wrong.  It was, as are all our tribal gatherings, a raucous reconnection of the extended family, with humor, food, stories, and games.  I was not in the center of this, but that was part of the evolution of family gatherings. You are in the center of them only when you are a kid.  When you are a teenager, you hang petulantly on the fringe, with a surly contempt – until a cousin who is equally surly and contemptuous cracks a joke and soon you are in the mix of things.  Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Turandot and Turmoil

     

    Image by Knight Foundation

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 54:  Turandot and Turmoil

    One of the features that the day offered was the certainty that it would be spent entirely away from home.  The attraction of this is self-evident as it was a Saturday which was normally when the younger Lynns would have their sports activities, an integral part of my weekends.  So Saturday was always a difficult day to get through – as was Sunday, and just about any of the days.  But I digress (frequently).

    Arising as my normal workweek schedule did demand, I went through my usual preparations, saw Gertrude through his morning walk, fed the Raptors and Gildy, unloaded, loaded and ran the dishes. Then, before departing, rapped upon the door of the eldest and increasingly nocturnal Lynn child, and shouted, “I am leaving now!”

    Bryce gave a salutatory grunt to the information conveyed and lapsed back into his state of insensible unconsciousness.  In principle, I believe I give him these notices of my whereabouts to be a good father and roommate.  Yet there is a part of me that remembers 11 years of fists hammering on my door at all hours of the morning, bedroom door locks being picked for mid-coital Read the rest of this entry »

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  • The Facebook War

    Image ByBy ssoosay (Surian Soosay)

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 32:  Omar O’Malley and the Facebook War

    “Dad, Kaylee’s on the phone and needs to talk to you,” Bryce greeted me at the door as I returned from interring the remains of Daisy.

    Taking Bryce’s cell phone, I saw him stalk off into the next room, visibly upset. This let me know that I was about to begin a “parent” phone call.

    “That BITCH!” Kaylee sobbed. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Opera Atheist

    Image  by Alaskan Dude

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 30:  Know Thy Enemy and Opera Atheist

    The weather was perfect – byFloridastandards: gray, cold, breezy and intermittently spitting rain. I sat in the sunroom happily puffing a Maduro Churchill and bobbing my head like an idiot to what I was listening to. The previous day had been perfect, and my good mood had carried forward to this beautiful Sunday morning. That matters were going so well and the weather was so perfect should have been fair warning to me that unreasonable circumstances were bound to be on the horizon. What with Audrey Towbridge doting on her pups (the opossum litter) and my yard having made precious little improvement with chemical spraying and the systematic ignoring of water ordinances to engage in the same unlawful lawn watering as was the norm for my neighbors, it should have been clear to me that a power vacuum existed and that someone was bound to step up and fill it. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • SLEEP

     

    Image By Keoni Cabral

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 24:  Regrets and Nightmares

    It was the night after that meal with Petrelas and Larissa that I experienced a most vivid dream. Dreaming, true dreaming, in which the irrational interplay of the mind and the world weave fantastic tapestries from which we do not wish to arise, had not occurred for me in many years. But following the departure of DeeAnn, or the arrival of the Evil Eyes, I found I was once again dreaming.  On this night, whether due to the wine or Larissa’s comments or perhaps my own thoughts on the benevolent lie, I found myself removed for a time from all of my current travails. It was a moment in which I was back in a time before Julie, but not long after Kiefer (as one tends to mark life’s epochs by one’s children). It was when DeeAnn and I took our first vacation as a couple in 16 years. The scene, in my dream, was something of a blur that resolved itself around a single person. The person, whose naked shoulders I was rubbing, was DeeAnn, and the place was aboard a cruise ship bound forAlaska. At that moment I could not remember the gun, the bullets, the divorce, or Facebook. I was instead sublimely happy rubbing her shoulders and looking out our cabin balcony window, for the curtains were drawn and I considered the passing landscape as I rubbed her shoulders in the manner she preferred. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Plight of The Paladin

     Image By:  AZRainman

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 48:  Plight of The Paladin

    My drive home was a silent one, at least from the outside observer’s perspective, as I put on no music and did not even bother to rant aloud. Instead, I was actively pushing back against a tide of resentment that took in most aspects of my present life. It is in these Herculean struggles that high blood pressure and broken molars are conceived; chewing ice maybe bad for you, but clenched teeth are a killer. A flash of headlights, a hard swerve to the right, and a narrowly avoided collision was just the distraction I needed.

    “Sorry, Pop,” the other driver called out at me as he sped off, “I’ll be out late. Might be home in the morning.”

    Children can provide so much joy and, at least, the cold sweat of imminent death snapped me from my internal tirade. I knew it was still lurking and sought preventative measures immediately. Rushing into the house, I stepped among the yipping Gertrude and the plaintive mews of the Raptors and Gildy, to get to my humidor. Having a fair idea of the level of the coming wave, I selected three cigars and grabbed my clipper, lighter, and pipe tool. It was going to take a full-blown nicotine stupor to shut this one down. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Possession

    Image by: Jeremy Burgin

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 49:  “Your Wife is…” and Other Facebook Revelations

    Possession is largely an illusion.  Children, for example, are not possessions.  Yet we describe them in possessive terms:  mine, ours, yours, theirs.  Claims of possession change relative to behavior.  Such as:  “My son is an honor student at…” or “Do you know what YOUR son did today!?” indicating possession based upon pride and shifted possession based upon misbehavior.  Possession was very much on my mind.  Not because I believed DeeAnn to be possessed, as she is demonic enough on her own merits to drive away any zealous demon seeking her as a homestead.   Possession was on my mind because the text message from Kaylee started “Your wife is…” Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Finding The Exit

    Image By:  Fabio Penna

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 23:  Culpability and Benevolent Lies

    There were, in retrospect, so many signs that were pointing to the exit, that it seems to me that I must have been blind not to see them. The incident in Siesta Village or the entire Kormos grudge itself. What sane adult would accept life on these terms? Well, clearly not a sane one, or at least not a humane one. As the old saying goes, “It takes two to tangle.” Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Parenting 101

    Image by: DOH4

    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 27:  The Great Sucking Whirlpool

     

    Of the nature or circumstances of the life of James Eliot Belker, D.V.M., I have taken no further interest. Whether his wife is a fellow vet, whether he is destined to become another statistic of the state ofFloridaare all irrelevant to me. That he relocated to help with a dying stepfather is enough information, as it speaks to the Florida heritage.

    When the first retiree did come hobbling south and demand to be attended upon by their kith and kin, I am not certain. But that it has become a generational duty, and in turn ambition, is part of an unholy cycle of the great sucking whirlpool that is Florida. We enjoy hurricanes not because of our peninsular – or rather phallic – status at the edge of the Caribbean. We enjoy hurricanes as it is an environmental manifestation of the human drainage into this bit of land to which humanity, careers and families come to die. Read the rest of this entry »

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