Wednesday, August 22, 2007

I'm excessively verbose... and the sanity is leaving in little annoying drips like a leaky faucet...

It's appalling really. And I have the urge to flee. It is a strong urge. I want to leave almost everything behind and just run. Run for the hills and hide in the arms of someone much stronger than me. In a cave. A bug and bat free cave. Preferably someone cute.

Yeah, I'm a lunatic. So that short story I was writing.... yeah, no, it's not finished yet. It's becoming a short book. The entire story takes place in a week. One week. And yet it has taken me about two to get through the first two days. I keep trying to pick up the pace... it's not cooperating. Nope. I'm on the second little tiny notebook. Oh yeah, diving right into the second notebook with no looking back... Remember, it's a seven day story.... two days in a little over one tiny notebook.... five more to go. Shit. I refuse to edit or transcribe it or read anything bigger than a sign until it's done. I'm terrified that I will lose the voice. It has a sad, quiet, calm voice and if I lose it, I may never get it back. Then it will permanently be just over one notebook.... and it will make me crazy. So I'm stuck finishing this fucking book... at least it's only a one week story. Maybe I can get it done in a month or so.... But I feel bad not reading the book Lloyd brought me. These notebooks aren't that tiny... I'm not talking Post-it's here... I'm talking 80 2-sided 3 x 5 pages... and I write small. All this is in pencil mind you... I'm tearing through graphite...and erasers. And I'm soooo scared I'll lose it. I only have one copy and it goes everywhere with me. Because I'm constantly working on it... whenever I can catch the voice, I work on it. When I have time, of course. Yeah, so second notebook, just made it to the third morning.... Jesus.... this is gonna take a while to type. But I'm so afraid I'll start editing and rewriting as soon as I start transcribing... so I'm not allowed to transcribe it until it's fucking done. Which I hope happens sometime soon.... although it doesn't look like it. It's 4 am and I'm in the throes of it.

Oh, and my brother is getting married in October. Because they want to have a baby and they want to be married first. Don't get me started. I'm totally freaking out about it. But I'm in the middle of writing now, so I have to get back to it. Jesus. I definitely need to jump out of a plane... maybe that'll clear my head a little....

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

The Lizard and The Mammal

We may have evolved into mammals... but somewhere we all have a lizard brain. There is the warm, cuddly, even rational mammal brain on top that does things like talk and pet the cat and pay the bills and go to work.... and then there's the lizard underneath that does things like smoke and drink and fuck and swear and grunt and roll around naked on the velvet comforter making happy noises.

And that's how it is with Dennis... lizard brain. I make a lot of noise at his house, but most of it isn't words. When it is there's this smoky hazy about it that makes it all into nonsense just to disguise that the lizard brain is active and has no use for words. I want what I want... that slippery, dark seedy underbelly of us all that seeks sensory comforts with no rationalization and no conscious thought. From the moment he walks up to that door to let me in, the lizard brain has taken over. I can see him coming and it's a gut level reaction. Hell, it's lower than a gut reaction. In five minutes, you can count them, I will have no clothes on and be flying through the air towards the bed. We try to talk, we really do, but it's difficult. Underlying every attempt at normal human communication is this overwhelming chemistry that evokes an instinctive reaction. Skin wants skin. Probably explains why things get a little wild.... And there's no cure... Four rounds later, we still can't talk, we're just exhausted and have evolved enough to sort of purr because we still can't separate the skin and we just need sleep.

But me and Lloyd, however, that's a mammal thing. That's a "my brain is attracted to your brain" and so the body follows... Lloyd's not really particularly attractive. Nope. But we have a good time. And it's a lot saner. Honestly, if I was the type of girl to hedge my bets, Lloyd would be a better bet than Dennis. Largely because I don't react to Lloyd like he's made of heroin.... and thus can deal with him on a much saner level. But then we all know I don't make decisions based on things like that and if Dennis ever pinned me to a wall and said "Mine and no one else's." Lloyd would be out on his ear in a heartbeat. Sorry, Lloyd. Let's stay friends. Seriously. Because Lloyd and I talk. We do. Usually, we wait until after the good part, but we do have deep and interesting conversations and share quite a bit. We both have colorful histories that we are not afraid to share, and colorful opinions we enjoy sharing. But it is definitely a mammal relationship. When I first brought Lloyd home, he actually asked if he could touch me. Granted, he was afraid I would stab him (how many times do I have to explain? except in cases endangering my safety, I always always give a verbal warning first.) but still... he ASKED. When I first went to Dennis', I climbed onto his bed in a short skirt under the premise of a massage and well, we all know how that story ends up... it's always the same. He knew the same threat existed... do something I don't like and I'll hurt you... but he never asked. He understood the implied invitation and he took it; it didn't require a conversation.

The other thing, however, is... I miss Lloyd. I always miss Dennis... lizard brain is jealous of everything he does that doesn't involve me, naked. But now that Lloyd is out of town... I miss him. The minute he got on that plane and I knew I wouldn't get to spend any time with him for a while, I found about a billion things that I wanted to say and a billion bits of time that he would've fit beautifully into. Not that I wasn't still deep in recovery on Saturday night (his Usual night, one of two) but still I would've liked to see him and spend time with him. He comes back tomorrow and I'll be waiting impatiently for him to knock on the door. Suppose that means I'll have to do something about the giant pile of clean laundry occupying his side of the bed. I didn't think I would miss him. It's bothering me. He's not the one that compels me like a drug addiction... he's my warm fuzzy... well, ok, not warm fuzzy... that's not right... but he's a lot closer... he's my SANE...well, ok, neither of us are sane... I don't know the word but it's different!!

In other news, I'm freaking out about this sky-diving thing. This is me, freaking out. Can you tell by the way I sit here expressionless and typing? Can you? Eip. Double Eip. Also, dirt poor, way behind on my bills, gonna go spend $200 jumping out of a plane. Oh, well, not like I'm good with money anyways.

And, I knit a cupholder this weekend! Yeah, how exciting is that. I know, I know, a cupholder?? Well, I finished the scarf, I finished the lap blanket, I wanted a break from the baby sweater, and I haven't figured out what to do with a lot of the mountain of yarn in the other room... so logically... I found a pattern for a Fair Isle disposable coffee cup holder (the coffee cup is disposable, not the holder) knitted on DPNs on Knitty and I decided to try it. I can work DPNs, I'm just not good at it. And as I've now gotten rather good at colorwork from from some other projects, namely the lap blanket, I figured I'd give it a shot. It came out lovely. Pictures will appear whenever I get new batteries for my camera. I'm very proud. It's red on top with a wave pattern going into the white bottom. The wave pattern makes little sense on a coffee cup, but I like the waves so there. I don't know what to do next and today is a long bus ride day so I have to have something to knit.... I dunno... guess I'll work on another scarf. I still have several pieces of the baby sweater that I have to work on, but given the fact that the gauge in the pattern is obviously insane.... (when I started knitting the back according to their gauge, the sweater could've fit ME and it's supposed to be for a one-year old) I'll have to figure out what I'm doing. Guess there's gonna be another scarf on the bus... Oh, well, they're for charity.

you have no lag time today. Lucky you.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Actually, Virginia, Hell is Meted Out in Bruises

If you sin, you get bruises. Not eternal damnation by any means, just bruises. I know, I have lots of bruises. I really don't mind them so much. Could be worse... could be that I didn't get to do all those things that leave me with bruises... that would be really sad.

I'm very tired, but I can't sleep. And my hands hurt so I won't knit. Since knitting day is... well, technically today. And I have so much pretty new yarn it's ridiculous. Pretty pretty yarn all over the fucking house...

Well, I did it. I finally finished the lapghan. I bet that's not what you were expecting me to say. But that's what I did. And a scarf. In three different stitches (I get bored easily). And I translated the scroll scarf pattern that I'm making for my aunt into a chart because I like charts better... especially since I have to read every other line backwards since I knit funny. and I'm finally embroidering beads on the little pink purse I knitted for no apparent reason. I feel good about finishing the lapghan. It's the single largest piece I've ever knitted and damn if it wasn't hard to get all the way through with a single two-line repeat. It got so boring after a while... if I never knit that stitch again, I'll be quite fine. I mean, there are only two things to do and they're only three stitches long. Repeat one set of three stitches all the way across, then the other set of three stitches all the way back... then do it again in the other color, then do it again in the first color...etcetera...

My british houseguest Lucinda was great. A really nice lady I plan to keep in touch with. We didn't get to spend a lot of time together. She does crazy things like sleep at night. But we did get to talk some and that was great. She was fun to talk to and I like her a lot. She has moved on to another house here in New Orleans now, but I will see her tomorrow. We're getting together for coffee before she leaves.

Lloyd is in Portland now. (yes, remember, it's Lloyd, Matt and Dennis) He came over Tuesday, met Lucinda, was perfectly charming and spent the night. I will not go into detail, but we had a very good morning, repeatedly. Perhaps a little too good for having company in the living room. Sorry, Luc. His best friend died of flesh-eating strep last week and his other friends all banded together to fly him home for the funeral. He's looking forward to seeing all his friends and trying to put on a brave face about losing a good friend. He has needed a fair bit of attention and distraction over the last week and I've gladly provided both. I remember all too well how hard it is to lose the family members one has chosen instead of having been provided with. We all have two families: the one we got when we were born, no options there; and the one we've hand-picked over the years from all the people we've met... and in most of our cases, the latter is more precious. He left yesterday and will be back on Wednesday. Hopefully seeing his friends and having some comraderie in his grief will have helped a little. I expect that he'll be here by Thursday night.

I'm working incessantly on this little story of mine... it's about an unfaithful minister's wife who doesn't entirely understand why she feels compelled to stray. Something has to give, and of course, it does. It's working its way along nicely and should come to an end one day... just not necessarily any day soon... or within the confines of the tiny orange notebook I started writing it in. It really is a tiny notebook and I'm quickly running out of room, but not story. And then there's the fact that the story is moving very slowly. I'm trying to convey mood without describing it. It's working, but it's slow. There is a slow turning of the wheels of her mind towards an inevitable conclusion, and thus there is a slow turning of the story's wheels towards that conclusion. I'm also trying to tell a lot about the characters by the little things... the husband drinks a ridiculous amount of orange juice and her mother in law thinks she's too pretty... I have managed, very delicately, not to name her... not even after 70 little tiny pages. And, she has managed, in the course of the stories two days, not to speak to her husband, without seeming angry or distant or aloof. It is a tightrope but I want to see how long I can walk it. Right now, however, I'm too tired to write it. And simply not inspired to do so as I'm really having a hard time deciding on this inevitable conclusion. I think I'm simply in too good a mood to write a sad story... and this is largely a sad story.

Yes, yes, I am in a good mood for the reason you think I am. Yes, yes I was at Dennis' house last night. Yes we did go four rounds and it was fucking awesome. Or perhaps I've got those last two words backwards... The nice thing about dating younger men is that two of those rounds were back-to-back... wow. Haven't done that in a LONG time. Older men can't do it. Simply can't. He can and did. Ok, I know that's too much detail, but I'm very very happy about it. Took me almost an hour to wobble my way home... less than a mile. I am mad about him, we all know it. Thank God I have distractions or I would go completely nuts over him.

So... I finally booked my ticket to Melissa's house for next month, set in stone and paid for. I'm going and I'm coming back with cheese. That's final. And Chad and I are set to go sky-diving next weekend (scary!!). Remind me to make sure he has a car or we're not going at all. I think he does, but I'm not sure. The sky-diving place is, of course, way out in the boonies and we need a car to get there. And I'll call them this week and make a reservation or whatever it is you do when you want to go sky-diving that Sunday. Gibson has decided that I need kneading. He loves me. He's purring his little furry heart out and claiming me for himself for the night. He does this by sitting on me so I can't see the keyboard. Fortunately, my high-school typing instructor taught me not to look at the keyboard, so I can still type. So, sky-diving, Melissa's house, then tattoo, then Jeanna comes to town, then leaving.... Busy, busy, busy.... in there somewhere is knitting a lot of charity scarves, visiting Aunt Flossie in Tennessee and various other adventures. And of course the boys.... always boys.

Lloyd will leave town when he gets tired of it, or when someone breaks his heart. Matt is going back to school this week and is still a brat about time for me. Dennis is already saving up to move to Seattle in November. I like Seattle, just not enough to follow him 3000 miles in the wrong direction. Don't get me wrong, I like him too... we all know that. But we also know that if I follow him, I will regret it... we both will. My track record is absolute on that matter. Hahaha... I stole the cat toes. MINE!

Ok, I think it's almost bedtime. I'm hungry too. (the stomach says "roar"). Oh, and Jodi and Steve didn't work out. Oh, well. That's life. He hasn't called me or anything. I heard it from Jodi a week later. I think I'll leave it at that. Good night!

You have no lag time today. Lucky you!

I like big words... and I spent so many years in therapy I can use "passive-aggressive pre-emptive strike" in a sentence..

Ok, so I'm on a marathon... Three boys in three nights. And I don't forsee any empty nights for a few more days. Yeah. Ok, so explain this to me.... three boys in three nights and just one stuck in my head. Grrrr...

You know me, it's the worst kind of passive-aggressive pre-emptive strike. I know that I can't make things work with Dennis in the long run because well, because I'm no good at the long run. Therefore I try to stop the heart by distracting the body. And that's going so well that I'm sitting here still naked three hours after Matt left, unraveling an afghan and rolling it into balls to keep from chain-smoking, waiting for Dennis to wake up and tell me when he's free this week. Yeah, I'm a dumb-ass. Yes, he's a valuable male.... yes, the sort I should probably attempt to keep. Yes, he likes me a lot. I know, I know, he's well-trained (mostly), he's sexy, he's funny, I even like talking to him... although I swear I get stupider when he looks at me... a lot stupider. I can talk to his back easier than I can talk to his face. I don't get that. He's everything I should want.... including emotionally unavailable and soon to move across country. Ok, I say he's emotionally unavailable because a)I want him to be, and b) he told me he didn't want a "romantic relationship" with me.... despite the fact that I think we have one. Damn. How did that happen? Both of us keep finding ourselves doing nice stuff for eachother... the kind of nice stuff we don't usually do for people... he cooked for me, I gave him a massage. I haven't volunteered a massage in AGES.... he says he hasn't cooked for anyone at home in 8 years. Yeah, bad sign for a casual relationship. VERY BAD. I swear, if I'm not careful, he's gonna send me running screaming for the hills. Or worse.

I have this feeling that he thinks he's the only one. Makes sense.... why would he know that there are others? I mean, I talk to him all the time, he leaves OBVIOUS marks on me and doesn't find any from anyone else... because they know better than to leave marks and because they're Gentler with me.... although as a side note, he left some nice ones on me Friday night and No one, not Lloyd and not Matt, has commented on them, not even to acknowledge that they exist. Lloyd I expected that from... despite all his volunteering to be the only one, he has a pretty good idea that he's not. Matt however... I don't know what Matt thinks. He ought to have a fair idea that he's not the only one... but then men never seem to assume that. I know, however, that I'm the only one in each of their lives.... because they've told me so. And that's not the sort of thing they need to lie about. At least not with me. They know well enough that I'm not going to ask and they don't have to tell, but they make it a point to tell me that I'm the only one occupying their social calendars. And I make a point to say,"That's nice, dear." instead of "Yeah? Me too.... right..." But Dennis more specifically I think is pretty sure he's the only one. I really think that he'd be deeply offended if he found out that he's not.... more and more so as time goes on. And I'm not looking to queer the deal over an arrangement he agreed to... over my passive-aggressive pre-emptive strike.... and if he finds out any way other than me telling him and telling him early, I won't get a chance to explain it. But I'm not about to bring it up. No way. He's happy, I'm happy... it's doomed, but at least it's happy.

Ok, technically, not an arrangement he agreed to... I told him I really like him, but that he's free to see other people.... we never discussed what I'm doing. And we know he's not seeing other people. Yeah.... I'm pretty sure he's assuming that since he's not, I'm not. Although that's silly... I mean, what kind of girl immediately jumps into your bed and doesn't ever do that with anyone else?? Yeah, faulty assumption right there... I am slutty so I'm quite likely being slutty outside your bedroom. When I'm seeing other people, I just tell him that that night's bad... or that I'm busy. And of course, I refer to everyone as my "friend". Simpler that way. I was with my "friend" last night... might mean Jodi or Dennis. Never know. Never mention what sort of friend or what sort of benefits they have... and although I tried to bring up the subject when I had a houseguest and he asked if it was anyone he should "be worried about" he quickly dodged and said he just needed to know if it was ok to leave marks on me.

Maybe I'm just being crazy... maybe he's dodging this as much as I am. I like to think that. That he's as scared of us as I am and he'd understand that I'm running from it too. Because he acts like we're together, and I act like we're together... especially when we're together... a random man at a bus stop told me the other day that I don't seem single, I hope that was just a fluke.... and yet we both say we're not together... so maybe I'm just over-reacting and we're both dodging the same conclusion. That's ok with me. I don't mind him dodging the same thing I'm dodging... I can't mind that, too hypocritical. But I still think he'll be offended when he finds out there's more than just him. And it is a when, not an if. I'm not stupid. If I'm not really really careful something will happen like the dumb bitch at work will say something wildly inappropriate if she ever meets him. And I plan on bringing him in for dinner. But I'll be there. And she'll have no reason to come out and say hi. I could bring him back to the kitchen ever so briefly... and then grab him and run for the door before she gets a chance to say "Which one are you?"

On the plus side, I've started writing again. It's a "short" story about a minister's wife. She's married to the kindest, gentlest man and is sleeping with the plumber for no good reason. In fact, she's not even happy about it, just less unhappy... but something has to change and she knows it. I know how I'm going to end it, I just don't know how to get there yet. So far, she is nameless, has gone two days without a word to her husband and very few for anyone else, is depressed, distracted, listless and has a secret garden out in the country. Eventually, she's going to find out she's pregnant, and being unable to identify the father or face the music, she's going to leave them both without a word and go off on her own to raise her daughter. She'll become a major hermit, and a loner the rest of her life, but in a quiet, peaceful, watching the waves crash kind of way. Like I said, not sure how to get there yet.... especially since my "short" story, written in pencil every time I get a chance, has now consumed the better part of an admittedly very very small orange note book.... and I'm inclined to let someone read it, but for no apparent reason, the only person I'm willing to let read it is Lloyd. I'll have to have him read it when he comes over on Tuesday. As it is in progress, I cannot let it out of my hands. If I do, I'll think of something and it won't quite fit... or I'll never get it in quite right. I have to let it keep flowing out at it's own pace. I got out of bed last night while Matt was sleeping and wrote 8 more tiny pages.

and I've been balling a lot of yarn. I'm in a swap that calls for a dismantled sweater. So I had a sweater largely dismantled and sitting around the house in great messy piles of yarn... and I've now managed to ball the entire thing. Not easy. Now I'm working on the blue afghan. I've been unraveling this blue afghan for quite a while. I also have to ball the dark green hanks that were sent to me as the other half of this swap.... They're lovely and I'm thinking of knitting an 80's style off one shoulder cabled sweater. Something with a simple cable up the middle and the sleeves and nice big bell sleeves... or maybe those cute ones with the thumb hole... I could make a thumb hole... i think... Of course, that would require me committing to knitting a whole sweater... and god knows I can't commit to save my life. Please note that I have half of two, not one but two, shirts knitted and sitting around, and a scarf for my great-aunt on a holder and a scarf, a baby sweater and a lapghan on the needles.... so it's odds aren't good. At least not by this winter. Melissa, I know you're reading this... weren't you going to send me sock yarn to make you socks? Right now I need busy work for my hands.... I'm losing my fucking mind, I need to do something with these pathetic nine fingers.

Ok, I'm back... after an eating and smoking and knitting hiatus with Jodi, I'm so much saner! Sometimes I just have to listen to someone else talk, anyone else... it gets to wear my brain is stuck like a broken record and it makes me crazy.

Whoo... much better. Definitely. Well, I'm planning to go work on a ship, which means that I'll have lots of time for knitting, right? Right. And I have all the yarn... so much yarn... and I'm getting the needle set... eventually. Mom says she lost two more bids (she's probably bidding like $12 for a $60 set). So now she's just gonna send money. Which is ok, right now I can make do with the needles I have and I need the money more.

I have to be out of this apartment by New Year's... which isn't very far if you think about it. But I'll make it, I always do. I think I'm gonna toss a lot of stuff this time... I mean, I'll be moving in with someone and I'll never be there... I don't need this much stuff!

I have a houseguest coming tomorrow... which reminds me that I need to call her and tell her that she can't come to the house and meet me at 4pm tomorrow... because I won't be at home! I'll be at work! We'll have to figure something out. But I have to call her and tell her that. And I have to do laundry! Right now! So I'll talk to you later.... at least I've temporarily recovered the sanity.

Your lag time today is... let's see, it's presently two hours into Sunday, and I wrote this Monday night... so about 6... or is it 5 days?

Weekend Marathons

The landscape is filling out nicely. Matt has not wandered off in search of a nicer woman... he lost my phone number. But he found it. Or at least that's what he says, and I've chosen not to argue. Seems like a good plan.

So this weekend is one man after another after another... if all goes according to plan... which we all know it never does. Worst case scenario, Lloyd and I spend the weekend together. Oh, no....what a tragedy that would be..... I know you can hear the sarcasm from wherever you're sitting.

And I get to go see Melissa! And that's if I live through sky-diving! Let's hope I live. I miss Melissa.

Oh, and I have two new dates this week. I know, I know, I know... I have my three, why am I trying to juggle five? Why? I might just die of exhaustion and dehydration.... but wouldn't it be a nice way to go?? Besides, you know me, I love the attention. And sometimes one comes along that's just so much better than the ones you have..... it makes you kick one out and replace him. Not that I think that's what's gonna happen.... I think the three I have are pretty decent and it would take some doing to replace one of them. But you know, with occasionals like Matt, a girl can have more than one occasional if they're fairly well spread out.... and one of the new ones and I have been trying to get together for the better part of a month, so he could easily be another ocassional. Of course, that's how it was with Lloyd, before we started seeing eachother a couple times a week.... he volunteered for that though.....

I dunno. Maybe they'll suck and I'll throw them away and keep the three I have. I'm not really an "out with the old, in with the new" kind of person so I won't throw away something perfectly good and functional for something unknown and new.... we'll just have to see what happens.

I've juggled five before... briefly. A long time ago. So it is possible...

My finger is broken. I need my tattoo. I'm poor!! I need more money. Quickly!! But I've started writing again and that's nice. If only I had more hours in the day!! Hours for writing and knitting and sleeping and sleeping around... There aren't enough hours. or enough money. I vote we go to the 36-hour day. minimum 36 hours... 40 in the summer. That would be great. Imagine all the things I'd get done.... I think it would actually require moving to a planet farther from the sun, but I'd be so damn efficient it would be scary.

Ok, I'm gonna catch a few hours of sleep. I have to be up early and I'm not gonna get a lot of sleep in the next 4 days. Certainly none of it alone.... wish me luck, strength and hydration. I'm gonna need 'em.

Your lag time today is 9 days. Sorry, it was a busy weekend...

Sunday, August 5, 2007

TIme is Fleeting and Fingerbones are Delicate

You must, and you will of course, excuse the trouble I'm having typing. I seem to be reasonably well able to conquer it with only a small amount of pain. You see, I have badly damaged a finger. No, it is not the middle finger from flipping people off... it is the ring finger of my non-dominant (right) hand. So I have taped it to the middle finger in hopes of speeding it's recovery. However, I'm now typing nine-fingered. And with a small amount of pain and swelling. Too small an amount of swelling for the fact that it will not bear weight. That's what makes me think it's broken. I've broken a lot of bones in my life and badly damaged ligaments, muscles, tendons and other bits of soft tissue.... and the really bad ones usually seem ok for a while. And they don't swell as much, but they won't bear weight. Not good. Apparently, one cannot fall down in a puddle of water and oil and land on one's finger. It will not bear the weight and allow one to type ten-fingered.

To catch you up:

1.) I have found a sky-diving partner. Chad, the incredibly cute bartender with the really nice girlfriend... the one I was ogling months ago, around the time John left, and haven't seen much of.... Apparently, he turned 35 last month. He is also terrified of heights and trying to stave off maturity, so we found a place in Mississippi that will charge us a mere $180 to coerce us into jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. We intend to find a way to be at least a little fucked up (apparently, they won't take you if you're dead drunk... even though they strap you to someone more responsible) and to bully, insult and egg eachother on until we're both in the plane, at which point there will be a lot of whimpering and sheer unadulterated terror, followed by the reality that we are jumping out of a perfectly good airplane and may well die. Then we'll let the trained person handle things until we land trembling and rather safe on the ground. That's the plan. From whence, there may be some cookie-tossing and some bonding over post-insanity drinking. Sounds like a plan. At least I'm realistic about it.

2.) Lloyd came over again last night. We had the big talk about the C-word and the R-word and why I don't like them and I think we came to an agreement. Also, I've been tormented by some particularly nasty nightmares lately, and felt like sharing both my discomfort and my rationalizations for sleeping alone and at night as little as possible... so I shared. And he, in turn, offered to come sleep next to me any time I want. I'm sure you'll hear the sarcasm when I say, How generous of him... The sex was great. Really. That part's not sarcasm. He even agreed that it's not so much of a stretch to say, well, ok, we'll just hang out and have sex... oh, damn, how limiting....

3.) Now that my internet connection is back on again, I heard from Dennis. Apparently, he thought I was angry with him since last he heard from me, I was buying a discontinued wine for an unknown shipping charge late Friday... The irony is that I was mad at him, but it's not his fault. He was a featured antagonist in one of the bad dreams. One of the ones that sticks with you all day and is tough to tell from reality. Another bad sign that I'm too fond of him... I care enough about what he thinks to be upset for hours that a dream version of him insulted me. I don't like being insulted though. Damn this typing with nine fingers is annoying. I keep trying to move them independently and it's not working. I think I'm doing extremely well for being down a finger though.... Yet, despite being mad at him over the asshole things the dream version said, the other night when I went to wash my hair and realized it smelled like his massage oil, I made a happy sound. And I didn't want to wash that nice smell away. Now you must know that we're doomed. The better I get to know him, the more we are doomed. The more I like him the more I know we were always doomed. That's the way of things. I like the ones that can't work out. I was trying to explain to Lloyd last night... he made some comment about himself being "perfectly acceptable... eminently serviceable.." and I told him that if he was any more so, I would have to run away immediately. He was confused... you rational people always are.... and I, generous soul that I am, explained... I do not want to settle down. I have bad taste in men and I would very much like to keep it that way, because if I ever had good taste in men, I might be forced into keeping a good thing going and that would never do. I much prefer the ones that will never work... because it will never work and we can go on about our lives without any big drama about our little thing.

4.) So I sent an e-mail to Ken the other day... Ken was Adam's father and I want that piece of Adam's work tattooed. I had lost my copy and needed a new one, so he e-mailed it to me. And of course, I got it when my connection started behaving again tonight. And with it was a note updating me on the family... and Ken's HEART ATTACKS. Yep... he had TWO heart attacks last week. TWO. Jesus, I thought my heart stopped when I read that. Like that family hasn't been through enough.... Ann is a quadriplegic who's been in a hospital with her MS as long as I can remember, Adam was blown up in Iraq and now Ken's having heart attacks???? Too much!! But his wife Carrie says that after TWO surgeries, and FIVE heart stints, he seems to be doing much better and should be ok. Fucking tragic. And at the bottom of the note it says, if you ever need anything, just call us.... If I ever need anything?? I need them to do well because I value them so highly, that's what I need. So Mom is creating a special heart-healthy gift basket and mailing it later this week. I'm paying her on Friday. She doesn't come cheap, and it better fucking look nice because I'm her daughter and I care about these people, plus I'm paying her. Life is fleeting. Personally, I make sure that at all times, everyone knows how I feel about them, my affairs are settled and you, Melissa, know that if anything happens to me, you're taking care of the cats. That includes dying in a sky-diving accident. Clear? Good. Gibson is here now, laying on my arm, taking a cat-bath and looking happy to have me all to himself for the evening, even if I am nine-fingered.

I do not mince words about my feelings. I do not conceal them and I do not wait to tell people important things. I've never been guaranteed a tomorrow and I don't intend to start believing in it today. It may never come, and if it does, I may never see it. So live for today. But not like tomorrow won't come, because then it will and you'll be hung-over and people will want the money you promised them....Murphy's law. Just say what you came to say and do what you came to do.

My mother still has not bought my birthday present, and I found this and thought it was interesting... Popeye's Or Death. It's funny because it's true.

That's what I have to say for the day. My finger hurts. I think Matt is done. He's not been very communicative, or nearly apologetic enough. Too bad. I liked him. But I do not wait by the phone for anyone. Never have, not about to start now. Jesus my hand hurts. No more typing today.

You have no lag.

Happy Birthday To Me!

I am afraid that at some point while I wasn't looking I became a grown up. Not a cubicle-dwelling, tie-wearing, tax-paying, home-owning, child-rearing type, but some sort of a grown-up nonetheless. I have the decided urge to do something immature and foolish. I want to go back to school or jump off of something... I don't wanna grow-up, I wanna be a Toy's R Us kid!

I never wanted to be a kid because it meant I was dependent on my idiotic and incompetent parents. I wanted to be a grown-up so I could be dependent on me and no one else. Well, I have that. I don't want all the things that come with being a grown-up.... the RESPONSIBILITY... does that echo to you? It does when I say it... with the big scary voice echo.... Not good. I don't want to be sensible or reasonable or compromise or any of that stuff. Not fun. I want to have all the fun I couldn't have as a kid because those sucky people were bringing me down. I need to do something irrational and fast! I could dye my hair purple.. that's quick and easy. I've got tattoos... sky-diving? But where do they do that around here? Living in a tent just sucks, no matter what any of those pot-smoking hippies say. I'm already sleeping around, so we got that one... Stay up all night with beer and Cheetos? I hate Cheetos. I don't know what to do.

So what brought on this fear of rationality, you ask? Not just my 26th birthday (I've passed the middle of my twenties now...) but the fact that a very nice boy whom I have no intention of keeping and who has no stated intention of keeping me just bought me a $250 birthday dinner. If that's not grown-up, I don't know what is. Now, it was sweet of him, and I enjoyed it. I let him pick the food and I picked the wine. And we ate and drank and chatted for hours. It was so grown up we spent most of it on opposite sides of the table playing footsies. When I was younger they only bought you fancy dinners if they wanted to ask a stupid question like, Will you marry me? or Can we try something "different" in bed?

He didn't ask any stupid questions. Nope. Just bought a lovely dinner, took me back to his place and did the same things we do every time we go back to his place. Ok, this time, he did tie my hands behind my back for a while, but he didn't ask and that's not what dinner was for. I'dve objected but I could very clearly get them free if I needed them.

So now I'm faced with having to make an irrational decision and fast. I don't want it to be a regrettable irrational decision though. And if you know me, you know I've made a number of seemingly irrational decisions over the years and they've turned out anything but regrettable. So now what? Do I... develop a silly hobby?? I have one... I knit. Do I.... what do I do?? Sky-diving seems the only rational decision. Jump out of a plane. Yup. Only thing to be done. Well, as soon as my connection decides to work again, I'll have to find out where the nearest sky-diving place is and go. The only problem is that I'm terrified of heights and may need someone to go with me and I don't know if anyone will... I'll have to bully someone into sky-diving with me.

Oh, on a side note... I sleep around. I slept with Dennis and Matt and Lloyd immediately, we all know this... and I got a fancy birthday dinner and lots of other perks. Jodi and Steve just started dating, no sex... they went to the movies, they each paid their own way and he wasn't even smart enough to walk her to her car. Now he's taking her out for dinner... to Ye Old College Inn... which is just pathetic. It's a little bar-looking place that has a huge sign advertising their sandwiches. Their sandwiches!!! Who's got the better plan now?? huh? Yeah, I think it's me.

The blinking lights are annoying me. Stop blinking, motherfuckers!!

Your lag time today is two days.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

The Gentleman In Question...

I swear to god, no one is putting out in Orleans Parish. Or Jefferson. Except me.

I've filled the third spot on the roster. Of, course, it may need some shaking up after one of them is behaving poorly... But that's not the point. Below is a faithful copy of the e-mail I recieved from the third, after having spent our first night together and blown him off for a repeat performance with a lame excuse about having to catch up on some late-night phone calls. Will someone please explain to me how people can survive without a phone? I love phones. This gentleman has no phone...thus the e-mail. Please note: he has some idea about my views towards relationshippy-ness, having invited him over blatantly admitting that someone else had stood me up for the evening... see above about behaving poorly.. Dennis, it should be said, is behaving wonderfully and is taking me out for my birthday tonight, and then back to his place. There is something to be said for having sisters. However, apparently, the gentleman in question is paying little attention to the fact that I am seeing other people. I will, wisely, leave it at that and say Happy Bithday to Me, here is the e-mail:

"Re: Same Time next week

I thank you, also, for the enjoyable time I had. I am not worried about the 'needing your space/time' issue, as I understand it. After some review with my roommate, we are moving towards the 'we will not cohabitate together' venue, so my place looks less and less inviting for me, let alone anyone willingly inflicted as company. But, I can always find a new set of digs. But, my issues aside, I had a very good time.

Yes, you are scary; this was not a strike against you.

Mostly, I guess, because I enjoy being scared. Keep in mind the atrocious taste in movies I brought: Hannibal Rising, Dawn of the Dead and the creepiest of all, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. So, terror and good times are not distant, as with most men.

Also: I don't think I would want to inflict me on someone else such as yourself, currently, relationship-wise. But, if you change your mind, consider me someone gladly signing up for the tour.

You have both a beautiful mind, as well as anatomy, to say little of your views on life. Solid, independent and vicious women, moreso if busty and maligned in a good way ... well, needless to say, it is a thing of true and glorious wonder.

I would, however, like to give you a much better massage; I believe I owe you a far better exemplar of my capabilities.

In the meantime, please ... keep me in warm regards; you are in mine.

Ciao, for now.

-- L.
P.S.: next week. I believe this will work out. Anytime sooner, however: as you wish. I am your's to command."


1. Why do so many men find me scary?

2. How is it they can so blatantly disregard and "forget" the fact that they are one of three? "needing your your space/time..." yeah, with someone else...


4. Am I a heartless bitch or what? Poor bastard, pinning his hopes on a girl like me...