Wednesday, September 19, 2007

i fucking hate this place, but I love this bunny

So these are your gifts today...

And of course, the bunny . Even you Melissa, can knit this bunny.

Monday, September 17, 2007

In the Dark

Aww.. look.. I wrote a poem for my sweetie...
But it doesn't have a name yet...

Seemed like a good place to put it... I always did like expiration dates.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

The Ride of Your Life

So it's been ages since I posted anything... the usual gentle wobbling and low din of my life suddenly went to roller-coasting roaring... and I'm afraid I found myself walking the tracks.

For a while there, I was happily riding along on the roller-coaster, thinking I was safe inside, but all of a sudden I realized I was instead simply lodged on the front car...

Lloyd is still gone. He says he will return when the gainful employment he is still in seek of has yielded enough savings to get a proper apartment. He is using me as an excuse, saying he wants to have me over sometime and can't now. It is a thin excuse as I never asked for such treatment nor will I prolong my stay here in New Orleans until such a thing happens. I'll likely never see him again.

I'm left with Dennis... who bailed on me the Friday before last, claiming poor health and a poorer mood. At the last minute. He then offered to take me out, and upon being reminded that I'd be spending my days off in another state, issued an IOU. He came over Sunday morning. The first time he's ever seen my apartment, and I swear, I cleaned like you wouldn't believe. He was not impressed by the cleanliness so much as the clutter. What can I say? We all know I have clutter issues. They are linked to abandonment issues which is funny because I'm usually the one that does the leaving... can anyone say "pre-emptive strike"?

He was... Dennis. It went well. Then I kicked him out, brought Jodi the house key, and left for Melissa's. Ahh... did we have fun in Wisconsin or what? Everyone thought I was mad to vacation in Wisconsin.... what a boring trip they imagined for me.... complete with weather and scenery... I barely noticed the weather and the only thing I can tell you about the scenery is that corn fields really do seem to loom. And apparently, dairy farmers do not encourage visitors. Especially not ones that think cows are made of tasty bits.

It was a wild adventure and I enjoyed every minute of it. Thank you, Melissa. Next time, you can come visit me and we'll do it up right again. You, of course, are welcome to start bar fights. I won't mind a bit.

So now I'm home and well, things are in ribbons again. No, the cats destroyed nothing in my absence, rather I destroyed them as soon as I came home. Dennis made it perfectly clear that he believes I'm his and his alone. I tried to gently disabuse him of the notion, but I don't think it quite took. I went over Friday, as usual, with cheese and a bottle of wine. Things went as usual. He was not feeling well however, so I was restrained.

Well, the text messages kept up... from when I left to long into his overnight shift... and he offered a "coffee soda" which to me sounded like pure magic in a cup... not so, really... as I discovered when I went to claim my prize. The streets of New Orleans have two things at 4 am: drunks and cab drivers. I did not see a single person walking that did not wobble wildly. I was repeatedly yelled at in an indecipherable manner by drunks in cars and out. I cannot tell you what they were yelling. It made no sense. I arrived, and through virtue of very poor security in his hotel, walked undisturbed into the kitchen. I should not have gone. I know that now and I had an inclination that perhaps that was the case when I left. But I've never been one to turn down a challenge. I got my coffee soda... not as magical as it sounds... and a tour of the kitchen. I then proceeded to stand around and watch him close down the kitchen.

I asked for, and was denied, a kiss. I waited for him to change and we left. Back at his place, the usual routine. But he'd been picking on me all night and at last my patience wore too thin. I said, enough, if this is how I'll be treated, I'll go home. At least my pillows there don't talk back. He didn't realize I was really leaving until he lifted his head to see me putting on shoes. He grabbed my hand, he pulled me to him. But all I wanted was a few kind words and he could not muster them. All he said to me was 'there's half a bed here' and 'with or without you, I'm going to get some sleep'. I told him that wasn't good enough. He gave me the sad look, he pulled on my arm and refused to let go. Are a few kind words so hard to muster up? Is it so much of a defamation of His ego to soothe Mine a bit? I wanted to stay. I stayed. I sat up. I paced, I fumed, I puttered, I smoked and I sat and watched him. I was tired. I curled up on the very corner of the bed and waited for him to react. He never did. He came closer a few times, but he never reached for me. I got up, I paced, I fumed, I smoked, I sat and watched him. I touched him and he made a low happy sound and held my hand. He didn't wake up. I climbed back in the bed. I didn't want to go. Going would've made it irretrievable. I stayed in the far corner. When I woke up and touched him he was so surprised he jumped up and grabbed my hand as though he'd forgotten I was there. Immediately, he realized it was me and he held me. I stayed all afternoon waiting for a reaction... a word, a gesture, an opinion, a reaction. Eventually I gave up and actually did go home. At that point, he'd had plenty of sleep and I could've woken him and had resolution or sex or whatever I wanted, but it was hollow by then.

It still feels hollow. I have a date Wednesday night and it's not with him. I cannot tolerate this monogamy. It is too heavy. Far too heavy. I am not so charming when I must take him seriously. He will take me out, and I will hate it as I always do when he's in public. But he'll likely be charming again. And he'll demonstrate that he knows how to treat me, most of the time.

a Missive on Joy and Simplicity as they apply to Cookies and Sex

Sent to Dennis early last Sunday:

For a couple of reasons, I'll e-mail this instead of texting it...

If you'll recall, the original premise of our... well.. our arrangement... was a massage in exchange for cookies. You agreed to it, I agreed to it, and really, I feel that keeping it that way makes things simpler. I know, I know, I'm making you fat or some nonsense... but I really do take great joy in the baking... and... at least from my perspective, odd as it may be, it keeps the relationship simpler. There's a give and take in it that keeps things grounded.

I know, I know, you and your highly ordered lifestyle... everything in it's place... alles en ordenung... But remember for a moment that if I shared your highly ordered lifestyle, I'd never have met you. I'll make the batches smaller, hell, I'll even make 'em low-fat, I've done worse... you can drop them off at the homeless shelter for all I care... hand them out to strangers like I do... But I Like baking. I do. Sure, sure, I suppose I could just make cookies for Eddy every week... but it wouldn't be the same. I gave him a batch of failed chocolate madeleines (they came out like little brownies) and he told his sister I made "the black ones" just for him...

I am an indulgent creature, pray indulge me... try a cookie just for show and then leave them on a random doorstep on your way to work.... I promise not to make you any more cakes... even though I was just thinking of making the best cake I know for your birthday. You'll break my heart to take my food away... you have no idea how much I enjoy having someone to cook for.

If you insist, I won't bring them. Can't say I'll be happy about it. Can't say that at all... but I won't bring them if you'll just snub them. To think how recently you told me that you wouldn't let me in if I didn't bring cookies...

Breakfast is whenever I damn well get around to it. I'm packing now and then I have some housecleaning to do. I have to catch up with Jodi around noon to give her the key, and then I have to go to the airport. Which means I'm not lugging breakfast to your house and then passing out and missing all the things I have to do this morning. If you care to join me, I suppose you can. You'd have to eat a waffle though...

Thursday, September 6, 2007

i just can't fucking...

Ok, internet's been out for 5 days. It's finally back on and I'm having one of those days where I just can't process shit. I can't figure out what the fuck is going on so I can't tell you. Obviously, I can relate events, but I have no perspective today and i need perspective, so here...

My pirate name is:

Iron Anne Vane

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. You tend to blend into the background occaisionally, but that's okay, because it's much easier to sneak up on people and disembowel them that way. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from
part of the network

That's what you get, and that's all you get and you'll like it. I gotta go review my waffle recipe. Again. Oh, and sleep... it's 4 am and I'm running on 3 hours yesterday. Damn. not enough hours, I swear...