i am part of a manhunt for a killer; fragments of me walking through VG and springs before this; then there’s the manhunt and he’s spying on us so we try to fake him out (hands raised in a circle?) and then we get paired up and go out searching for pieces of clues or whatever. i am paired up with Bee and we are arguing in the way that we did where every trivial thing seemed leaden with Import and i grab her ass as a joke and she takes it too seriously and is all silently fuck you about it when we run across this guy and then I am dead, and apparently the afterlife is a fucking hike through traintracks and an abandoned building full of pipes that leads into a bank lobby without a floor (nothing but water). Everyone marches across this long track and on the left people get separated into tented off areas, and behind them there’s boats and water and stuff. but if you keep going to the ‘bank teller’ area, to get to the ‘tellers’ you have to sort of cross this stone floor that disappears and so you have to imagine it being there (or pretend that it’s not not-there). Taylor (WTF) helps me get across when the floor disappears, he grabs my shirtneck and just fucking hauls ass across. There’s a teller i recognise but she avoids me and i learn to ignore the floor so i can walk on the air above the water OK and she stops ignoring me then, i leave the bank area and Cookie’s there and we’re both ‘assigned’ to this guy, short skinny mustache, and cook wants to write a letter to the living he left behind and this gets me thinking about my wife & son and I want to write them a letter too. cook and i bullshit our way into the real world with mustacheguy, a breakfast joint next to a real bank with post office. cookie distracts and i mail the letters and just as we’re getting found out i wake
Another year, and it gets further away and it hurts less, I guess. Eventually I will be able to stop feeling it at all. And if there were even the slightest bit of genuine sorry, we could be friends. Such a bitter pill. Last night at the big B, rockin’ it with Tai-tai:
me: So I’m sad.
me: because it’s the 4th of July.
me: It’s my anniversary for when my drama-llama bullshit happened.
me: I mean, I bet you don’t even remember when the thing with your sister happened.
tai-tai: no, I don’t know the day or even the month. I remember where i was and what I was doing.
me: but that’s my point. I can’t forget, and even if I did, there’s fucking fireworks to remind me.
tai-tai: like a party! YAY!
apartment bldg, behind brysons and over one, but not really – it feels like the apts in little havana, – overcast but not rainy, i am walking through the hallway and i am walking to get a tricycle (the huge adult ones like old people use like abuela gypsy used to have before she got frail before she died) so that i can get shit done because there’s a timetable and i need to go home and get stuff and then elsewhere and do stuff and do not want to be here because b is here and there she is in front of me back turned and smoking or trying to light a smoke fucking dammit like when you don’t want something to happen and there is happens and all of a sudden it’s fucking forgiveness dream wherein she is too proud and bitter and pissed and i am indifferent and this is getting her even more upset and i have fucking shit to do lady i need to go and you are making me sad — not sorrow, not grief, not even upset, just…hey, bummer man, — and there’s tony, indifferent or didn’t notice me or whatever but steadfastly Not My Concern and I am leaving and i suddenly have the fucking tricycle except now it’s a bike? and it’s that hot stillness before a storm and as i bike down the street the rain starts and i wake
in which Sterling provides an apt summary:
“I consider it my personal Vietnam. If I had gone in and struck hard and fast and all in one go, none of that shit would have gone down. But because I didn’t, because I took it slow, I sabotaged myself. And I think it was because [removed].”
“…So you consider it all your fault?”
“And none of it would have happened and [removed] would still be friends with [removed].”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of guilt.”
in which Laura considers the possibility that there may be a better way to handle situations
Laura: so, he is right. we do need more time. though i think he went about it totally wrong. but, i do realize he doesnt have the emotional capability/tact that i hhave
(erm, maybe i dont always hav tact)
David: like when you laughed at [laura's ex-boyfriend]‘s naked erection?
David: some people might say that was …. less than fully tactful
in which Little Trouble Girl summarizes her complex love life:
“So I’m going to see my husband in the hospital, but I stopped by to have lunch with my boyfriend — that I’m not having sex with because he’s married — to tell him about how I didn’t get laid last night with my coworker/crush because he couldn’t get it hard despite a long blowjob and to complain about how my fuckbuddy just left for [unnamed country] which is good because we might be developing feelings for each other. Which would be bad.”
in which i make an ass of myself at a party:
“dude i was in college when you were still sucking your momma’s dick!”
“you know my mom’s dead, right?”
title courtesy of The Bird and The Bee’s “fucking boyfriend”, which song was what was playing on the CD that I gave Little Trouble Girl after her romantic misadventure with her puppy-love/co-worker person thing when she was driving to work and ran into (figuratively) said puppy-love/coworker. Like some shit out of a John Hughes movie or something.
speaking to squirt yesterday she drops “you know the reason i never liked you romantically 12 years ago when we met was because when i asked what you looked like you were so negative that it killed it”. i cock-blocked myself. I bummed about this on several levels.
got mail from skeeter’s man that her kid (#2) had been born, with attendant pictures. They both look glowingly happy, her in particular but that might be a mix between relief and happy and tiredness. The amusing thing is on friday I wanted to call her and in fact got as far as dialing but she’s still mad at me (justafiably, i’m a sellout although i take issue with her iron-gripped resentimiento, i’m guilty of the same thing so i can’t really complain about that too hard.) and probably would not have answered but I never got to follow up and call again. Too much of that is annoying, especially when someone is pointedly not answering. But WWu mails occasionally, and I hear things on the grapevine de rato en rato so I guess it’s ok.
It’s hardly news that I am horrible about checking my messages. So yesterday I finally check my voicemail at work — I haven’t checked it since December, easily. There’s a familiar number but I can’t place it. Victor, telling me to fix the fucking LDAP lookups about two weeks before he died.
So I come in to the restaurant and sit down and say “Hey! Sorry I’m late, your tits look great!”
To which she says: “They should, I’m pregnant.”
She had broken up with her boyfriend recently, just…differences, you know? and the short version is that one time a month ago they fucked up, and now my friend is getting an abortion, and is horrified and guilty and I feel sorrow for her. It’s the right choice for her, and it’s excruciating bordering on the unbearable for her to choose this.
I’ve had other people in my life who had them — a high school friend during my Christian phase who was afraid to tell me because she thought I would take it poorly, another was someone I drove ~400 miles to see because of it1,2 (and she’d gotten another one I wasn’t supposed to know about, but we never spoke of it obviously) and then another who drunk on her birthday while talking about a mutual friend having a baby just dropped it in conversation matter-of-factly (in front of her current husband) about how she’d had one when 18. It’s heart-wrenching, it really is. Necessary and liberating in a way, and in many cases, it’s the only way that makes any sense. But still.
1 If you’re still reading: you know who you are. Are you still reading? I wonder sometimes. I stopped trying to check; I figure if you can’t tell me, you just can’t.
2 Technically, I went to cheer her up because of heartbreak. The Legendary Pink Dots’ song “Home” reminds me of this period, and I cannot listen to it more than once or twice a year (which sucks because it’s on my favorite LPD album, “The Maria Dimension”), because listening to it instantly brings me back to waking up slowly with the light, dim in the morning and the traffic slowly waking up and my back stiff from the mattress on the floor, the cat freaked out.
Vic’s gone, heart attack at 35 on Sunday night/Monday morning I guess. Met his folks, the wake was really hardcore. “You were his friends to the end”, the body didn’t look like him at all but made it more real to me, it’s stopped feeling like a bad joke all the time, like the most ridiculous thing that he’s gone, forever.
walking in a hallway dark not scary but dim and then with b, into a cafeteria-looking room and we have been looking for something but not finding it, and she is in trouble for killing a man and we’re not friends but not enemies either and things are tense and awkward and i want it to be unfuckedup and friends because she needs help and i could do something and i hate feeling like this, compromised into being unable to be friends, but can’t forgive without some sign of friendship, or caring, and there’s just words and platitudes and i do not want to be here but am forced to (the way that you don’t know why you have to do something in a dream but you just know it) so i do it and the tension is worse but i’m not angry just sad, overwhelmingly sad, and it’s dim like we’re where even sadness is something to see and the look on her face is best described as vexed or “i know something needs to be done but i don’t know what” and i wake.
vacation: sucked, I worked on the house and w/ the fam (jesus they are tireless)
work: I am a hero and an unsung rockstar of unprecedented caliber. we had a server — the one and only web server, the one that has hard drives that grriiiiiiiinnnnnddddd when they spin up and has therefore not been turned off for 5 years and then because of a power failure, and not been updated for about 10 years — have it’s PSU blow up and catch fire. despite this, I was able to get us working (hobbled, but hey) for the few days it took to get the machine repaired.
i bought a jawesome! map in a magnelephant frame at my dad’s neighbors’ moving out garage sale. my ex-landlord is in foreclosure and I picked up 3 GTA games for 30 bux.
this morning i dreamt that had gone to sleep late (i had) and got woken up by my cell and it was she calling to say there were things unsaid. i never got to hear them because the alarm went off.