Saturday, November 29, 2003

Home Again

Just got back from spending four days and a mile high in the desert with my Mom and Lee. I tried to run two miles, forgetting that I live at sea level and nearly burned up my lung tissue. Ate Tofurkey and laid on my belly watching the pet cockroaches that I gave them for Christmas last year. They have grown so big! The largest is now the length of my index finger and as wide as one knuckle segment...measured through the terrarium glass of course because none of us have yet made physical contact.

The amazing diversity of life, it astounds me. Occasionally I am jealous, sometimes baffled, sometimes disgusted. As Ma and Lee are preparing for a few months in Mexico new research towards that end uncovers new potential adversity. Witness...the botfly! This little dude lands innocently enough on any exposure of flesh as you stroll niavely, blissfully through the tropical forests and leaves its young to mature into rather large larve IN YOUR FLESH.

Saturday, November 22, 2003

Its Late, I Just Got Home

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Friday, November 21, 2003


FUCK. This is so FUCKED. How the fuck do I find a post that the site supposedly 'saved' for me cause I lost the entire fucking thing. FUCKFUCKFUCK.....................
I cant believe it. From now on I am going to create my posts in Word and cut and past them into Blogger.

I don't even want to bother starting again. I am going to go finish my laundry and calm the fuck down.

Thursday, November 20, 2003


A new neighbor is moving in upstairs. I wonder what happened to the femme little black dude that used to belt out off-key R&B tunes. Except for his occasional musical outbursts he wasn't a bad neighbor.

I am leaving on Monday to spend Thanksgiving week with my Mother. I hadn't even consider till last night who was going to watch Cairo (dog) and P-Diddy (goldfish). But otherwise I think that I have mastered the holiday season this year. I am going to send everyone a card and explain to them that in lieu of agonizing over gifts this year I am buying for gift trees and giving gifts to needy children in our family's name. And they will all get a loaf of zucchini bread too! Brilliant.

I gotta work at the pub tonight... I hope it isn't too dreadfully boring...But I only have to remind myself, under-the-table!

Wednesday, November 19, 2003

Wicked Girl

I got drunk by my self last night and decided that I have a grudge against the world. Left an angry message on W's machine accusing him of liking me more as a piece of ass then as a friend. Wish I could take it back now. Went to sleep after four in the morning and had fitful dreams of a post-apocalyptic world in which Jason and I were back together. I was in school and he sucked my toes and had matching tattoos on his biceps and on the insides of his forearms. I decided to skip school without even lifting my head from the pillow, hazy plans from the night before swirling in my head about telling friend and associate alike to fuck off. Turns out it was snowing in huge flurries and I missed it. That would have done the trick to undo this mean little mojo I got in my head.

It's funny cause last night it was so warm out, warm and ferociously windy. I felt like the center of the Maelstrom with leaves violently swirling about. I felt invisible like a puff of vapor, convinced that I could careen my car through intersections with out consequence because I barely existed. Its the most dangerous kind of illusion, like a sudden certainty that you can fly. I smartly chose to take up my non-existence in the safety of my own home.


After waiting for almost a month they have finally posted the results from the race. I came in somewhere squarely in the middle. I have mixed feelings, pride and humility. The two women who came in right before me were like 52 and 58 years old.
On the other hand, I ran 13 miles that day. AHEM...t-h-i-r-t-e-e-n MILES (13). I only gave up ten years of indulgent chain smoking seven and a half months ago. Furthermore, the farthest that I'd ever ran was 6.6 miles, only three days before the race. SO! I feel pretty damn good about it. My finishing time was 2:07:41 or something like that...give or take thirty seconds. Pride and humility are both are totally acceptable emotions, and that is rare for any event in my life.

Anyway, I have spent the evening in a sick little misery. It's been a very opulent kind of misery tonight. I have the heat cranked up, took a hot bath and settled in with a book. This totally chaps my hide though...half of page 229 is ripped right out of the book.

As if I wasnt in a bad enough mood already.


Monday, November 17, 2003


Monday night. Lame fucking day. I went to a comedy club last night, special-guested in free. I spent the evening striking up conversations for the wrong reason, bolting from the deep commitment of answering shallow questions.

I spend a lot of time running off, or pretending I didn't hear anything.

Sunday, November 16, 2003

Small Favors

Say what you want about my neighborhood, you will not find a better fucking burrito anywhere in the city. so there.

If You Think Your Life is Bad, Take a Look Around You

Feeling normal again. I went to the gym at midnight and ran two miles to test the calibration of my new pedometer. It seems to be accurate to about a tenth of a mile.

Woke up this morning to the winding blowing something fierce. The bushy tree outside my bedroom window is twitching and undulating like a fat woman at a tent revival....same swishy moo-moo sounds too. The leaves are half yellow and half green and not a one has dropped yet. No-one is exactly sure if we are committed to this change of seasons. Seems we are all hedging our bets and it is half way through fucking November already. My fushia on the front porch is still blooming, as are my potted pansies out the kitchen door. Whenever we get a spot of rain newscasters urge us to bid farewell to the 'unseasonable' dryness and settle in for our traditional wet winter but it just isn't happening.

Outta the blue a local dive bar has offered me a few fill-in and on-call shifts while I wait to begin work. Interesting demographic, local drunks and has-beens by day, kids on the make by night. My friend Teresa seems to be the chief decision maker and pants-wearer in the pub since she started fucking the 68 year old owner four months ago. Now she is shacked up, knocked up and in charge. One year ago when I had just moved back to the city from the coast she was his lowly day time bartender recovering from the crib death of her only child and passing the time between suicide attempts. Just a mere seven months ago she almost succeeded if it weren't for a pesky neighbor home from work with a cold. We thank god for small favors and curse her for colds. Sometimes life seems like a stream of consciousness and sometimes just crazed surface activity.

Anyway, I am sneaking a few shifts under the table. Jim, the recovering alcoholic who lives in the rundown apartment building next door sits at the bar all day offering assistance, in fact he will practically do your job for you if you let him. Apparently Jim was a cop in Chicago years ago until his fiancee was murdered by a serial killer and he never really recovered. Until recently he spent all his waking hours at the bar drinking Pilsner glasses full of cheap rose wine from a box till the he got cut off or passed out. He still spends all his waking hours at the bar but is one month sober now. Seems he finds a sense of meaning, belonging, usefulness... fufillment of those base human social cravings by hanging around and pounding on errant and wayward nails, stocking beer and cleaning ashtrays. He knows as much as anybody how to run that bar Teresa will tell you. He will avail himself to you, do anything you need done, and the validation of his existence is all the payment he requires. It is enough to put me in an existential tailspin.

I am not making these stories up. The world around you is real enough, and tragic enough if you just take the time to look.

Saturday, November 15, 2003

Good Friend, Bad Blood

Boy, I am in a foul mood today. Am I totally unreasonable, or is it everyone else? Am I surrounded by a bunch of spineless pushovers or am I overly aggressive? I cant figure this out. Are most of you flexible on matters of principle, deciding case by case what to take issue with? Does that not defeat the purpose of establishing a principle?

Okay, here is the scenario....
It was summertime and the livin' was easy, drinks flowing, everybody is looking good...

The problem is, some themes, like strains of a bad bacterial infection are surprisingly difficult to eradicate, and this one remains hardily intact. Of the three people that I am supposedly closest to in the world, two of them I am not speaking to. So I have to ask, how do most people deal with these kinds of situations? I obviously am just lousy at it.

Friday, November 14, 2003

Evil Morning

It is 6:30 in the morning. I am not too familiar with this time a day, at least not sober. I woke up a half an hour ago worrying about a bunch of shit that I cant do a damn thing about, and cant exorcise from my head. I cant get back to sleep and desperately don't want to be awake. This is what I get for sluffing of and watching TV instead of taking care of the realllly simple things that I should be taking care of. GEEZ, BEING LAZY SURE TAKES IT OUTTA YA.

Monday, November 10, 2003

Bad News

Rumor on the street is that this new bar doesn't have the money to open, or to honor their paychecks. Shit. Rumors are, generally, reckless exaggerations but this one, if it were at all true would be rather devastating. I still have not heard from the General Manager since they informed me last Thursday night that I had the job.

Saturday night was a disaster. I say this without hyperbole. Katrina and I went out into the mucky swamp of nightclubs. I got hit on by a guy who told me OH YOU KNOW, I LIKE TO HUNT, AND FISH AND MAKE OUT WITH CHICKS AND, YOU KNOW...DRIVE MY TRUCK. He called his friends FUCKIN' HOMOS and fell off his barstool.

That kind of functional stupidity one doesn't come across very often out in the real world. I know this girl who moved to New York to be with a man who was a Chippendales dancer. She quit her job, sold her car, dropped out of school, left her friends and family to be with him... all they did was fight but she wouldn't leave him, well, cause he was a Chippendales dancer. He came back to Oregon with her for a visit. At a party one night, overhearing a conversation about Portland neighborhoods he said WASHINGTON MUST SURE BE A BIG STATE IF IT STRETCHES ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY.

Saturday, November 08, 2003

Working stiff

I am now among the gainfully employed! Three interviews and three weeks later and the job doesn't even start for another week or two. I am excited about this one though. I mean, I don't want to bartend for the rest of my life but I want to finish out my career on a high note. I want to get to the top of the field. Sure I do. Wouldn't you?

I have been thinking about that funny little thing we call desire, what it does to the human brain really. My friend M- came to my door in love and in anger and in a state of drunkenness at four o'clock in the morning. We have been doing that unspoken thing where I passively reject his passive advances and neither of us acknowledges that the nature of our friendship is being challenged. I guess it was weighing on him. Initially I was angry, like WHAT THE FUCK?? DON'T LAY THIS ON ME. ITS NOT REAL, ITS TOO LATE. It has occurred to me more then once that men, generally speaking, can be incredibly dense and are often unaware of the sublime complexity women possess. I thought I had been clear, and I just didn't take it very seriously because I could not relate to how he felt.

And then at five o'clock in the morning I missed a call from Jason....and now I am all twisted up in knots and bothered, hating him and missing him and wanting him all over again. How can he do that to me? Damn it. And here is the thing that Jason and I were always running up against, that M- is running up against, its that reality of another persons emotions, that no matter how engulfing and consuming are always just a little bit inaccessible...a little bit fictional... because what it comes down to is that each of us is locked into our own brain, wed to our flesh and bones, and in the end, no matter how tightly someone wraps their body around you, you are still alone. Jason and I battled this for four and a half years. We fought each other as if it was a betrayal that one could remain an individual. Of course, this was the most private aspect of our relationship. And still, and yet, recognizing that need mirrored did nothing to make it as real as your own need that consumes you.

And then there is my hockey player landshark who I last saw two nights ago. He is different all together because he is neither a specter from the past nor a hopeless late night chimera. But, as much as I like Hockey Boy it doesn't work. In a friendly way though. This is the other thing, the other side of that spectrum. The total, and totally mutual lack of emotional need. What does that look like? Well, short lived as this maybe it is nice to not be pulled apart by the passions of another person, whether or not you share in them.

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

First Post

Three and a half weeks unemployed, eight and a half weeks total for the year, plus two weeks vacation. I am bored senseless, and more then a little disappointed in myself, having discovered that I am not the soaring creative spirit that I thought I was being repressed by this sing-for-your-supper social contract that we call employment. I can almost tell you what is on Prime Time tonight...give it another week...and I can recite at least 20 of the 101 Juiciest Hollywood Hookups. Two hour naps is how I reward myself for getting out of bed before noon. Sigh.

This is the third time that I have tried to rewrite this blurt. How reliable is the blog site? I was trying to find inspiration by playing around with the little folder tabs in the corner that say things like Settings and Template, and every thing I had written was unapologetically lost. Forever. You would think that I would not so painstakingly recreate the exact same conditions that taught me a painful lesson once before, but this is my life's work. I swear to god, I rewrote the post then watched my mouse pointer, much to my astonished chagrin wander over to the same corner and click on the same tab with, yes, the same results.
The culmination of Things I Have Learned, the Late 20's edition, is this: Do not do the exact same things and expect different results. If I can learn that, I mean truly take it to heart then I can claim some measure of success. It is all in how you define success. That is what I learned working in mental health. For some people, habits and patterns are unbreakable. Redefine success and you are guaranteed results.

Tonight, we drink wine! Katrina's house is cold. So cold. Students cant always afford the luxuries. Unfortunately the house is scheduled to be assessed for its true market value tomorrow. So, tonight we clean, and warm our souls with ammonia fumes and cheap wine!


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