Someone was nice enough to buy me a membership for 3 months. This came as kind of a surprise--since more than a year had passed since I'd posted anything on SG, and kind of not as a suprise--since a very random, non-SG person, contacted me out of the blue a couple of nights ago... after 12 years of having not spoken. C'est la vive.

Two things:

1. If you purchased this account for me, please contact me via PM, e-mail, comment, etc. It's no big thing; I just feel that, at the very least, I owe you a drink or five if you're ever in the Old Country (or if I'm ever by your parts), simply for the generous gesture. Don't be shy.

2. I have no clue what's gone on in the past 20 or so months! Feel like clueing me in? Go right ahead. I didn't leave because of any beef or such; it's just that Uncle Sugar keeps sending me to fabulous vacations in southwestern and central Asia, where I can't really visit the site, and Telecomm Italia makes it amazingly hard to get internet connections hooked up when at home. Case in point? I'm in Weisbaden, Germany right now (Frankfurt had no affordable hotels that I could find) and burning time before I get back to Aviano.

Other than that, for anyone that cares, things have been kind of nuts, somewhat exciting, and rather entertaining for the past year and change. I hope the same holds for you as well!

Ciao,
P.

Sadly, I think my time on SG is coming to an end. I have nothing against the wonderful people that frequent the site or the good folks that made it possible. I guess I've just moved on. Who knows? Maybe I'll change my mind in due time. My best to those of you who knew me (as well as you can "know" someone on an online pinup site) and put up with me nonetheless.

Ciao!

Things have been really hectic lately. Most importantly, I found out that I have orders for Italy--a 3 year assignment that should finish off my stint with the USAF.

I'm really excited about this; returning to Europe is something I've been hoping to do for many years now. My location will be amazing--50-60 miles N of Venice... at the feet of the Alps themselves.

More to follow later... maybe. I haven't felt the urge to interact much on the 'site lately. I've nothing against it, but for some reason I can't get into it as much as before.

OK, here's an edit... I'm throwing up a bunch of new pictures in the next hour or two. Some from Iraq, some from the trip back, others from Mexico, and still others that just made me laugh.

Well, Cancun was amazing.

The resort I stayed was, well, great. Great room, great service, great food, etc. I have no complaints.

The ruins of Chichen Itza were well worth the visit, and I hope to soon post the pictures I took while there. Was it a terribly educational trip? Not really. I had done some rudimentary homework on the Mayan people and their history, and I'm sad to say that, although entertaining, the guides with us didn't furnish much more than I already knew. Seeing the ancient city was well worth the price of the trip, though; merely observing some of the features inherent in Mayan architecture was a treat in itself. Without getting into too much, their ability to incorporate amazing acoustics in their building plans stunned me; it definitely showed that, despite a supposed lack of the wheel, the Mayans could hardly be called "backward" when it came to their ability to fashion things.

Where the more mundane aspects of my trip are concerned, though, the swim-up bar of the resort's pools won the prize by far. Aaaaaand.... I'll leave it at that.

Cancun's night-life was surprisingly disappointing. There were maybe 4-5 serious night-clubs to speak of, and most were packed wall-to-wall, but with hardly any room to dance--and little to no chance of actually meeting people. There were some fun acts, and that was about it. 2-3 nights into my trip, I realized I could hook up with resort employees who could arrange for "VIP"-style entrances (as in, no waiting in line) and a table to reserve for your group. That made things easier, but it still didn't make up for other things. Case in point? I won't be drinking Corona or Dos Equis... for a very long time.

In other news, I just found out I have orders to go to Italy for 3 years!

Well, it's been a couple of weeks since I got back to the real world. What can I say? It was kind of anticlimactic coming back, given that I was told a month prior that I would be deployed in August. Oh well.

I don't have much to write, as I've been lying low for the most part. I've spent some time with family and friends, but mostly I've just been doing the fine dining thing--devouring things I couldn't have all these months. I highly recommend Social if you're ever in Charleston, SC. "Surfer Steak" as a name does no justice to an incredible dish, and their wine list is excellent--as is their assortment of chesses, etc.

I'm flying out to Cancun, Mexico in about a week. I'm hoping to combine getting smashed with some trips out to the Yukatan's impressive archaeological ruins and exhibits. After that, I found out I get to go to fucking Vegas for 3 weeks. Wow.

Back from Iraq... will post more later.

Cheers,
P

Going to Iraq! I'll post if I can, assuming access to internet. See y'all in 6 months.

Well, work has been going well. I've been vested with more and greater responsibilities, and I have to say that this year has already kicked last year's ass by far.

But, you know what? All that is meaningless right now compared to one thing in my life.

Godfather.




Not father! Just Godfather. But I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure that the little man known as Christopher (strong, Greek name--the damn fonts won't work though...) wants for nothing and has every advantage and bit of knowledge I can provide for him.

Anyways, I have to go now. It's time I went to dip him in the waters of the Styx.

I'm rather fond of the generic description the site gives for me. I think I'll keep it. The picture, on the other hand, will have to go.

I just flew back from upstate New York today. I had a fun trip, even though it was a training trip. Actually, it was probably too much fun. Did I mention Canada is amazing?

At any rate, I have a ton of shit to catch up on where my journal (blog?) is concerned. I'll be editing and adding to it over the next day or two (I know you're dying to find out what I've been up to since February... ), but... for now... I'm going to enjoy a nice filet mignor, a couple of glasses of vino, and a night out in the town.

To be continued... some time tomorrow (subject to hangover constraints).

Love,
Phoebus

About a month and a half ago I departed for Greece, in accordance with my annual custom of blowing all of the leave I accrue per annum (or even going into debt) in one fell swoop, all for a taste of the good times the motherland can offer. Generally speaking, I try to time it for New Years' or the peak of summer time, for maximum bachannalia.

Well, that's not exactly 100% accurate. I also go there to see the half of my family that still resides there, and most specifically my father--who I have only seen for a bit of a time since my parents divorced.

Four-five days after leaving Greece this time around, and the morning after a nice party (drinking, dancing, eating, and farewelling friends for about about 14 or so hours), I got a call from one of my favorite uncles, also my father's truest friend and benefactor. He called me to tell me that he found my father dead.

My father and I shared kind of a complicated relationship. While I have always loved him uncompromisingly, only in the last 4-5 years have we been able to accept each others' mutual courses in life. To his constant worry and distress I have pursued a military career that has placed me in locales and situations he'd rather I never dealt with. On his end, he has refused to put down the bottle that cost him his family and peace of mind, among other things.

For as long as I'd known him, my father was a sort of alcoholic Peter Pan. Most addicts have what they'd call a reason, or at least an excuse, for their vice; I believe that years ago my father saw in alcohol a way to continue being young in the face of things that I guess scared him. My dad had been a wheeler and dealer who had visited every continent save Antarctica, a living, breathing exemplar of what I saw as being "rock-and-roll." Things like becoming a family man without having the grounding and wisdom of his own father were probably alien to him. Unable to reconcile with his lifestyle choices, my mother took as away and we came to the States. It wasn't until several years later that I noticed a change in my dad. Where once he drank out of some need to feel like life was still a party, I started noticing that he drank because he simply had nothing else in his life.

Penthouse apartment across the Acropolis? Empty and full of so many reminders of the people that once filled it, who made it worth being in.

Beautiful, rich girlfriend in Myconos? Painful reminder that it's too late to play at getting married again.

Friends? Dead, or moved on with their families.

I did what I could to take away the sadness my dad was mired in. I called him once or twice a week, and we tried to pretend like we didn't have thousands of miles and months to go between us. I saw him as often as I could, but it broke my heart knowing that my inevitable departure made him hurt more than seeing me arrive gave him joy. Little by little, though, I started understanding that he was trying to set himself up for a change.

It took a while, but we made a covenant. I'd go for a European assignment, and my dad would try for a positive change in his life. During the New Years' that just went by, we toasted my anticipated move to either Italy or Germany (we both preferred the former of the two) and capped it all off with an amazing derby between our favorite football team and their hated rivals. We hadn't lived moments like that since I was single digits years old. And I guess we never will again.

Seeing his brother, who is also my Godfather, at the funeral broke my heart. The man had a stroke the same day his brother died, but he knew nothing of the latter's death. Chalk that up to coincidence, eh? Things had been said, and done, by both, that had strained their love for one another. A sort of uneasy reconciliation had been achieved, but nothing was the same. We ate as a family because of my visits. They spoke when I was around because neither wanted to sadden me. They had both come with me to the derby, and it was the first time in years that I'd seen both of them just fucking let go and return to a better time. I'm sure he was thinking of that very same thing, still numb from his own ordeal, wondering how fair it was that he'd never have a chance to embrace his younger brother once more time.

I'm still waiting for the coroner's report. To his doctors, my father was something of a medical miracle. They'd tell him his liver was in awful shape; he'd cut all vices for 6-7 months just to have them marvel at his recuperative, almost regenerative, abilities. When my uncle found him, he was dressed to kill, on his kness, fists clenched, his forehead on the floor. My uncle said his face was peaceful, much like he was in his coffin when I saw him last. I like to think that's true.

Neither Italy nor Germany's going to happen now. I'm going back to my old squadron, and I'll be once more operational. I really hope I get deployed sometime soon because I really don't want to sort through what all this means for me right now.

Rest in peace, dad. I love you.