10 short, repetitive looping minutes

weekend passed. weekend past.

friday night I drove to Arlington Heights to hang with Dave. He usually visits the city (and then crashes on my couch and doesn't straighten up when he leaves. I always find pillows everywehere), but Friday I was driving there.

Dave lives in a friend's two bedroom condo by himself. Dave is a lawyer pulling in 60+ hours a week. The place is nice, but sparse. There's no life there at all: the front room has two couches and a table and an enormous wooden TV entertainment center in the middle of the room. The dining room has no table but an ironing board and an unplugged iron. There's like coffee grounds or some shit in the kitchen sink,.. and nothing but mustard, pickles and olives in the refridgerator. Motherfucker DID have ICE in the freezer however.

we went and shot pool at a large joint,.. 12 tables, full bar, full-on sports bar. the people there were typical suburban, yet super weird: lots of chach guys in tight shirts scanning the room to see if you're looking at his woman, and lots of girls in tight clothes (with or without breast implants) skanking on and draping their men with their thick makeup faces. Lots of making out going on. One couple (I admit to looking at the girl: she had nice, defined shoulders and biceps. I like that) were all over each other forever. Like 45 minutes into it I pointed it out to Dave and said "don't you think he would've left with her by now?" Dave said "maybe she's insatiable." If that's the case, holy shit.

We drove back to Dave's with Taco Bell. The fucking entertainment center in the middle of the room was bugging me. So I told Dave he should move it against the wall. He said go ahead. So I pushed the heavy heavy fucker a few feet, flush against the wall and ate. Dave's place bothered me, so I drove home through a hardcore downfall.

Saturday I woke late and straightened the place up. I'd wanted to take in a long ride, so I called mysterios and asked him about meeting me in Hyde Park. I left late and rode it in along the lakefront. We checked out a record store and I got into a chat with a bum on the street who told me a 3 minute story in 10 short, repetitive looping minutes. In summary:

1. He was at a woman's house with his friend, who was fucking the woman's friend in another room.
2. The woman wanted to fuck him, but all he wanted to do was "smoke his pipe."
3. The woman kept talking about fucking him, but all he wanted was to smoke coke.
4. He looked around the room at all the pictures of the woman's kids and man.
5. The woman kept talking sex, so he started to notice her body parts and debated going for it.
6. Finally, he put his pipe down and went for it.
7. Afterwards she told him that she wanted him to be her man.
8. He told her "You already got a man. I shouldn't even be here. If that man see me on the street, he gonna kill me. Y'all ain't worth that."
9. She gave him $10 for getting on her.
10. He told her that he was going to use the $10 to buy crack.

I started to laugh when he told me that she gave him $10. He asked what was so funny and I said "she paid you?" He laughed a bit and said "Yeah, my brother laughed like that when I told him." I said "Yeah, no kidding. Women don't ever pay for that." He laughed and said "I know!" Mysterios was bored, so I gave the bum a couple smokes and went to get some lunch.

We went to 57th Street books and I bought a copy of Batman: The Dark Knight Returns. I've never been into comic books, and I think superheroes are for fags,.. but paging through I could see that the art was continueously interesting, and I've heard the raves about this particular story, so I bought it.

The ride home was an asskicker. Full-on 15 mph head wind the whole way. Fucking took me a good 2 hours to get home (the last 45 minutes of which were in the rain), I walked in soaked and cold. I called E to cancel on going to M the German's party because all I wanted was a ho0t shower and to lay down and read my comic book (no time for foreign women). She kept trying to get me to go, but I was too tired, and besides, M the German isn't interested.

The Batman book rocks.

Sunday I was with my friend Carney and his baby and dog in a dog park. I was vicariously living the full fledged 30 year old adult life. It was domestic and tiring. This is not an original insight: friends who are married or have kids pity their single friends. Is it better to be single? Who knows. I do know that I'm in shape (not fat), I get to do great shit all of the time (no attachments) and I've got my choice of partners (variety). Beyond that is speculation. Who cares.

That night E told me that she and the 10 or so German, Dutch and Czech women were trying to call me to get me to meet them out around midnight. I didn't hear the phone ring because I was either reading Batman or already asleep. I admitted that to her. She told me that I should probably keep that sort of information to myself.

30

this entry is dedicated to my pal EP who turned 30 years old August 23rd .

so EP is 30.

I've known him since we were 11 years old. I walked into homeroom in 6th grade into a new (public) school (after 3 years of bullshit Catholic grade school... the kids in Catholic school were mindless sheltered sheep) and took an open seat next to this nerd with glasses wearing a Panama Jack t-shirt. Like a good natured jerk EP cracked wise on me to some snickering girls... making my first 5 minutes at Milton schools overly uncomfortable.

Through a mutual interest in wrist rocket slingshots, bikes, U2, survival knives, karate moves and air rifles EP and I, along with our friends Sean, Aaron, and BJ spent many an afternoon riding bikes into the woods, listening to U2 and shooting/usually killing small wildlife.

EP was the first of us to get on a girl. He was liked by the ladies early on. The thought of 14 year olds messing around just made me throw up in my mouth. EP was also the first of us to get a real girlfriend that lasted longer than 3 weeks.

EP was an athletic stud. He was a ranked state track and field star before we even left junior high, and attended both the state games as well as the junior olympics.

EP always had a hot girlfriend. I always wanted a shot at his girlfriend of two years - Staci - before he dumped her for the even hotter Michelle. Both girls were knock outs and talented and smart... but Staci was a bit pompous, whereas Michelle was a sweetheart. Years later I made out drunk with Staci at a mainline show. It was awesome.

The year after we graduated, EP and a lot of the crew moved to Madison to either start freshman year or to fuck off. EP and Frank moved up to fuck off. Michelle went to college in another part of the state, dumped EP, started dating an older guy and got knocked up.

EP bounced back by meeting Jacque. I met Jacque a month after he did at a party. She thought we were all insane. Somebody told her that I had a cigarette pack full of joints. That was inaccurate - that was Bob,.. I was the one who could drink an entire case of beer. Jacque was still in high school. Everybody from our graduating class would go to Eric's and get fucked up. It was a fun spot.

The following school year I decided that college was bullshit, that the college I was attending was bullshit, that the fraternity that I had pledged and got into was total bullshit and was full of people that I didn't want to be friends with, that I wanted to be with my hot girlfriend, that I was 19 and that I was going to do what I was going to do, so I dropped out of college and moved to Madison.

The year turned out to be really hard. I was broke, I worked in a gas station, me and the girl quickly drifted apart, I lost weight due to stress and not having any money at all because I was totally cut off, and the year wasn't the fucking youth ass kicking fist fucking drug abusing bruhaha I'd pictured in my naive brains.

EP recalls one mid-spring 45 degree day when I made us each a plate of mac and cheese and we sat on my house deck considering how we had no money, were barely employed, were not in school (rather, were not attending class), and had minimal hope of digging out of the hole. that was fucked up. I don't ever want to be in that spot again.

That fall ('94) EP was living in Frank's house in Janesville (Frank's dad had just passed), I was dumped by hot bitch girlfriend for a 23 year old british wank job (whom I never got to properly meet and/or fuck up) and now living with my parents and working in a warehouse with dudes who were on Huber law (living at the local jailhouse, let out during work hours to stay employed), and Bob was dealing with the loss of his left leg/getting used to a fake one from a motorcycle accident. we dealt with it by remaining heavily medicated at all times. Somehow that spring I got accepted into college and got out. It was an escape... it was my only escape. In fact, if I hadn't escaped, I'd still be there today. Or dead.

In 1995 EP moved to Arizona, and Jacque, myself and a couple other kids drove cross country to see him. We camped throughout Utah and Arizona. It was excellent. It was good to be 21. I've got a fucking great picture of EP and myself at the Grand Canyon. It's that fucking good, bobo.

About five years later EP and Jacque got married. I was the best man. It was an honor. In 2002 we took an epic trip that hasn't been topped and will never be topped. Instead of attending our ten year reunion, EP, Jacque and Tim loaded bikes and bike trailers and took the Amtrak from Chicago to Seattle. From there we biked and camped over 250 miles around the Puget Sound over the course of two weeks with EP's brother Burke. The greatest memories and photos in the entire history of mankind spawned from this trip. Cemented real men.

This year we took yet another epic trip in EP's 1979 Datsun Travette RV with his dog sagan through the mountain ranges of Colorado. It was also a journey of the mind. I couldn't be luckier to have a friend like EP in my life, and still in my life. Some people grow up and suck as adults. EP doesn't suck as an adult, even as a 30 year old adult. EP just turned 30.

happy birthday.

wack

straight up fuckin jack shit.

that's what I've got to say about that.

my weekend was weak... no, pardon that, my weekend was wack. it began with drinking a couple too many beers at rossi's afterwork and then having to handle misterios and his lightweight reaction to too much alcohol plus his inability to control his motor skills. I damn near snapped his neck trying to get him to pass out in a sleeper hold, held face down in the grass in front of work. several tourists watched on. I hope they got a good show for free (bastards).

saturday I remained in a negative mood, not answering my cell all day for anybody... what's wrong with me? why can't I channel all of this energy toward the forces of good? I was on the bike most of the day visiting friends in wicker park and drinking beer. That night my friend C wanted me to go with him to see his brother in law spin at a very weak bar in lakeview. I agreed to go only because I wouldn't have to pay for shit. I allowed it only because C has told me about 8 times that he makes six figures (asshole). his brother in law's set sucked. he should stick with accounting or whatever he does all week.

sunday I met up with my sister to attend a BBQ for her friend's birthday. It was OK. Fighter jets shot past overhead tripping constant SUV car alarms with the shock and the awe. Viva the military!!

went to bed around 9:30 to kill this BS off early (air and show weekend is traditionally a shit-bad deal weekend... this year didn't disappoint).

how this shit goes

I've been slowly realizing something: I am in a constant cycle of trying to keep myself entertained. I don't know what another person's reality is like, but mine seems to based on avoiding boredom (or attachments, for that matter).

The little world that I'd collected and constructed for myself a year ago is completely gone,.. mutated into something else. I'm fucked up and bitter and still sad and bummed. I don't know how to rid myself of it. There doesn't seem to be anything that I can do to lose it, and I sure as fuck haven't been able to talk myself out of it. Maybe I'm disturbed. And I only seem to be stabled when I'm hi. I keep myself surrounded by my friends and connected to whatever is going on in their lives/this year seems to have been very active for all considered. I fucking need personal time to myself. I wonder why I've had to go through what I've had to go through and with the particular people this has been with.

Most everyone seems to have had positive changes in the past year, but the down side, the dark side, has really taken the bite out of some of us. I'm skating down the middle ground.

This is how this shit goes: ride the wave until it crashes the shore.

interesting sounds going on

past time. time past.

I get paid once a month at my job. It fucking pisses me off and fucks fucking everything up all of the time. Motherfuckers! I hate finance people and accountants and anybody who's good at applied math. Yo: pay me once every two weeks just like a regular employer. It's only making it easier for you.

This morning I left my bike unlocked at the bike corral for over 20 minutes. I am a "bonehead".

My friend E told me a terrible story about a life changing shift in her life. It would fuck anyone up, she doesn't deserve it. I feel sorry for her.

I've been listening to Modest Mouse's "The Moon and Antarctica" this week. It's got some interesting sounds going on there. It's like a mix of wilco/flaming lips/fugazi... and an emerging indie band. I was told that the new one with the popular single "float on" isn't as good.

killed brain matter

disorganized.

whoa.

at 30 I'm slowly accepting the fact that I am a closet perfectionist and controlled control freak. My fucking apartment is a mess and has been a mess for over 10 days. Now that the german shepard has left I can clean away the stray hairs and dust bunnies left in my 100 lb bitch's wake.

today I'm dazed and tired from a wasted weekend of wasted dreams, killed brain matter and pickled organs. hard eight. I want to get blazed.

I signed up for an editing course at the university of chicago through work beginning in september. that's going to be super boring.

on saturday I was at a BBQ hosted by a yuppie friend. There were other yuppies in attendance with their offspring. At one point there was a baby corral of seven screamers. I like to go because they only have them once every three months. I get to listen to conversations about selling one condo for another. All of the women are well-dressed and disatisfied/all of the guys are my age and total pussies. It's like being at a party that your parents throw.

Even with money a wife and a kid I wouldn't spend a dime at Pottery Barn Kids. I'd pick up a liesure suit from Baby Phat.

piss and moan

I'm at the tail end of a long, fine summer. On paper it reads great. I got a great bike, I took two solo road trips, I had an excellent week roadtripping through Colorado, camping, being out at night, biking...

I'm still not doing that great. Maybe it's the age, maybe it's the understanding that things don't get better and that you have to just accept it. It's fucked, I've had an entire life of just having to accept it. I've had to swallow a lot of lumps. I don't think that it really does or really will get any better.

I'm feeling pretty fucking hollow. Situations are fucked, I'm still angry and I'm still sad. I've been reflective, I've been aggressive, I've been appropriately mean when necessary, and none of it helps. I've got this sick twisted shit of opinions, ideas and fears in my head that haven't left. I still occasionally have trouble sleeping, and I have difficulty finding inner peace.

Life is all fucked up. I don't want all of the answers to all of the issues, I want comfort and a solid base. I don't have either.

Day to day/Night to night...

girl jealousy manipulations

I got my picture back of crazy samurai fuck... and it's amazing. I'll see if I can figure out how to post it.

Friday was pretty good - we got a late start leaving in two cars because, as I've learned, Ellen and her crew of friends are of average intelligence. They probably all barely got a 20 on their ACTs. Anyways, it took them forever to be ready to leave and then forever to organize which car to leave in, and I'm 100% certain that not one of them can read a map. Not even Fred - their 33 year old friend. When we pulled over for gas, he was no help.

Then we made the mistake of smoking before getting to the beach in Michigan. That turned into a bitch because I had to put together my tent in the dark with 4 dumb girls watching and brainlessly asking if I was doing it right, and Fred being no help and just stupidly watching me do all of the work. Dude, you're a man - you're supposed to try to be in charge and take over the project from me, who's job is to kindly and publicly outwit you and stay in command of all tent building, fire making and wife beating (just kidding). Anyways, I pitched my tent, and then put theirs together. I did 90% of the work - dumb! Finally I got to drink a tapped beer.

The party was great - right on the shore of Lake Michigan with 20 or so tents, a stereo hooked up to an iPod, two kegs running, volleyball, swimming, smoking, tossing the football. I brought the german shepard and she stuck by my side the entire weekend. On saturday night she was voted best of show among the 5 or 6 other dogs in attendance, and I walked her up to an on beach spotlight while 80 people applauded and cheered for her. I think she might have cried.

Later in the evening drunk Ellen decided to play yet another of her junior year in high school calibre girl jealousy manipulations by alternating sitting on my lap (uninvited), to snuggling up to some random guy two seats away. She was doing this for the benefit of me and her friends. I thought that it was super-lame and just plain foolish. It was like Wayne and his ex-girlfriend Stacy in "Wayne's World." It made me consider my actions in front of her thus far... I've never even flirted with a girl in front of her because I know that it would drive her fucking crazy. So, naturally the guy wants to walk up the beach with her and I hear her say "Yeah, I'm going!" (no reaction from Tim). 45 seconds later she comes back and takes a seat saying "I didn't want that anyways."

Lame! Lame Lame Lame!

Look, these fucking mainpulation games won't work on me because I don't want to date you Ellen! In fact, this grade of stupidity is just yet another reason why I just say no. Clue in! AND, if you're going to push it that far, GO ALL THE WAY.

Dumb!

Fucked up... dog at feet... I stared at the fire and wondered how I got into such a lame scenerio. Once again I had to blame Shannon. I wouldn't have even been there if the girl hadn't cracked or at least held up to her promises. We had a fucking home, brat. It was fucking cool and she fucked it all up and now I find myself in these lame scenerios with people who's far from ground breaking ideas of manipulation were figurged out by me and retired by the time I turned 22. I know Shannon's pissed at me that she isn't controlling me because I'm not in the game. THAT is a true test of mettle and manipulation.

So instead I bitch about it and curse it online. Lame.

Rick James is dead

I just walked out of the lame ass friday social that I am professionally-socially obligated to attend. Walking in at 3:05 (it starts at 3), Flo said "Where you been?" I told her that I just heard that Rick James was dead, and the room of 20 office workers immediately began to discuss Rick James.

What a great moment... office people everywhere discussing Rick James.

closet sociopath

today has already been that day...

I woke up feeling like a bag of shit due to the four beers I drank last night (they stayed with me... poisoning me while I slept). My apartment is a fucking mess because I haven't cleaned it since I returned from Colorado a week ago. My sister ended up crashing on my couch in the front room, so she was disturbed as soon as the first rays of the day broke the horizon and directly into my living room. I walked out to her looking tired and sitting among the clutter of magazines, waste paper, cigarette butts, LP records, CD booklets and general BS. I said good morning.

We were out the door by 8am and walked over to the left wing jaded 22 year olds tattoo sleave thrash rock lesbian run coffee shop for a couple disposable cups of black gold, and I told her to get on the train labeled LOOP. I killed that fucking cup and played Sublime on the headphones.

The harsh wind was to my back, so I was fuckin booking. I'd estimate average speed at around 22 mph. Making great time. About Racine and Webster I saw a familiar pink classic Schwinn Typhoon - Stella. Of course fucking of course it was Stella. Shannon walked out of some coffee shop to Stella looking at me the entire time. I was looking at her. I looked at her with no expression, waved and didn't slow down. Expressionless, she gave me a head nod. I kept moving. This is the first time I've seen her since she gave me the finger and told me to fuck off. This is the first time she'd seen El Scorpio, I know she digs it. Fuck! Sightings don't fuck with me as much as linger and bother. Fucking Shannon - it's all your fault.

So I get to the office and find a biography with red pen edits all over it and written scolding of the AP style. I know my boss was pissed. This is because the fucking asshole client told the designer while I was away to dump the AP style copy I edited and replace it with a different file. I was fucking gone on vacation. This BS happens. DO NOT switch the motherfucking copy on the motherfucking template because it fucks everything up and makes me look like I'm slacking on my job. Fuck! I fucking hate people! I think I secretly hate all people! I'm a fucking closet sociopath! The the bitch with the powerpoint presentation leaves me a scolding e-mail regarding the work I do for her (I'm convinced that half of what she hands over the bitch could do herself). I'm going to give her the shocker.

So I go over to the gym and see this fucking sign that reads No Water from 9am to 1pm... this gives me like no time to shower shave and change. Thank goodness the water wasn't cut and I was able to clean up.

Right now I've eaten three laffy taffys, a handful of M&Ms and I'm halfway through a Pepsi.

Fucking shit I'm fucking craving a cigarette.

I'd like to break some boards with some intense karate chops.

Fuck, I'm sullen.

a veritable force of nature

yesterday was one of those days that was just a veritable force of nature.

it started slow with a humid 88 degree ride into work and quickly kicked into gear when I had to defend my position with my boss against this terrible woman who is impossible to work with on this fucking powerpoint that I have to work on with her every six months. she always hands me a file of 97 xeroxed pages with highlights and lettering and her illegible cursive and demands a powerpoint presentation, usually in under a week and a half. It goes this way each time. I hate it. My boss was pissed because he had thought that the material needed to be completed this week, when in fact it wouldn't be needed until next week... and was an unorganized, rambled mess. I had put the shit off because I had 6 other projects to wrap up and tend to prior to my week away. Fucking vacations: there's never a good time to take them when you have a real job. It's always more work to work ahead, and then more work to catch up when you return. I am an indentured servant to a board of old rich white men.

speaking of which, I was somehow drawn into telling the CEO about my trip to Colorado while I was standing in line at the cafeteria... rather, I mentioned where I had gone and then smiled and politely listened to the CEO tell me that he liked to take his kids there when they were younger, and that he might prefer Colorado during the summer over going in the winter.

I enjoy communicating with people on a human level, especially when there's a caste system involved. I remember once reading an interview with Jack Nicholson from the mid-70's where he described starting out working for the studios as an errand boy and purposely greeting all of the upper-management (as well as all other employees) by their first name. I've always liked that.

after work I had a smoke and decided to ride the lake path back instead of the usual city route. it was a good idea. I stopped in olive park for a smoke and looked at the thick humidity drifting among the cityscape and abruptly ending at the cooler lakefront. getting on my bike I began to pedal behind a fat guy in all road gear and a nice road bike huffin' and puffin' in the 85 heat. I think he was waiting for me to pass, but I liked the pace he set and decided to keep two feet behind him, weaving through pedestrian and bike traffic at 20 mph.

I pulled over at a drinking fountain to wipe the sweat from my face and catch a drink, and Jen, an old acquaintance jogged up. we agreed that it was hot. she was nice, and then she jogged off saying that she was on her way to beach volleyball. Jen is a girl who is a friend of one my friend's now wife. when I moved here in 98 she wasn't all that cool to me for some reason,.. but as time has past, and she hasn't gotten married, and she doesn't have any kids, and she's on a husband-hunt,.. she's gotten nicer everytime I've seen her... and she's out jogging! good for you, Jen! really though, Jen is a pretty girl who's just gotten older and isn't a hot 25 year old anymore. she knows this. we started to drunken make out in a cab last winter but she hated my beard and I remembered that I hated her, so we stopped. anyways,.. further down the path there was a Nick's co-worker sighting,.. maybe it'll be reported/I'm betting on it.

when I got home I was a sweating piece of shit. I checked the cellular and saw that Sarah had called and wanted to go riding right away. the message was left an hour ago. I called her back and told her that I needed to gather supplies and would be over in 30. I had a thing for Sarah about two years ago, but she would blow me off so I stopped trying. but now we're kind of in the same boat and have become kind of friends.

so I hit the liquor store for some Miller High Life tall boys, packed the dugout, hit the road. she'd told me on the phone that she was wearing her riding pants. I wanted to see this. we rode down to the lake path via roscoe ave. I was secretly pleased to see how well she handled her bike. There's a difference between people who know how to ride their bike and people who ride occasionally. Sarah can ride. We decided to ride down to the marina across from the fountain to crack our tall boys and have a smoke. it was good. it was funny. we rode through the park to where the city was showing "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner"... the accoustics were excellent with the soundwaves bouncing off the ampitheater behind the crowd and the delay reverberating.

we caught a smoke by the fountain and was suprised to see that they have a fucking lighting display going on in the water. by now it was around 11pm and the girl wanted to get back. we rode the lake front north and caught some lightening and light rain approaching on the horizon. we could have cut across to the city streets, but decided to carry on. the rain gradually got more and more intense. sarah told me that she was soaked. I told her she looked good.

there was this hum and hightened energy in the air to welcome the fucking crash and mad assault of the full-on downpour that hit us fast. it was the most intense rainfall that I've ever attempted to ride through... I would see a wave of rain hitting the pavement a few feet ahead, and would cut through it and be nearly knocked off my bike by the fucking wake it pushed at me. it was an absurd amount of water and downfall. Sarah and I nearly collided a couple of times due to the force and uncontrolled laughter.

we took refuge under a beach house and some middle aged dude pulled in behind us. if we'd been alone, I would have rolled it and kissed her, but that didn't happen. we waited 10 minutes, the rain died a little and then we rode out again. she kept saying how she couldn't wait to get home to a hot shower and lay down to sleep. we got to her door and she gave me the go home now kiss on the cheek. that's cool, I've still got the image in my head, and there'll be another time. and if it goes it goes. it probably shouldn't with this one, she's a lot of fun, but she's a tad insane... and that joke isn't funny anymore.

ok, see... no pussy post. in fact, no pussy at all. so there.

disposable

back to the grind. back to the routine. back to the normalcy.

I got my pictures back from Colorado. A few of them are very good, a couple are great. I shot with a disposable. I print out standard 5 x 7s to see whats good and blow up what's deserving. What can I say? The trip was epic as always. Eric said it best by stating "This is great. We're 30. We're with Sagan (dog). We're traveling through the Rocky Mountains in a 1979 RV and there's heavy drugs involved."

That and the fact that we met fire eaters, a professional hula-hooper and watched a boa constrictor feed on a white rat, pretty much sums up my week away.

I bought a messenger bag to replace my downed backpack. I paid a hefty fee for it, but its construction and material (water-resistant black canvas outside/water-proof vinyl liner inside) ensures a durable long life. I covered the h-mo knit corporate logo on the bag with a safety-pinned skull with crown that I had laying around. Fitting.

They say ("they" as in people over 30) that life gets a bit easier after 30, and I think they're right. I don't carry the angst that I did 8 years ago, but I still have a bit of the fire in my gut. Maybe it's the anxiety of the twenties passing and mellowing into young adult life. Whatever.

I think that I have a slight anxiety disorder. I can be on-edge and intense, and I don't understand it. It comes on like an adreneline rush. I can be funny/it can be scary. I think I like this wellbutrin shit, it seems to even me out.

I ran across a note the other day that shannon had written me long ago, and made the mistake of reading it. I still have it. Why keep this sort of thing? It doesn't matter anymore, it's from a friend who is now gone/pushed away, and it's a reminder of a good place that went bad. I've often wished that the situations were different because there is a good soul buried there beneath thick skin, protruding spikes and protective shielding... but it's all too combative now.

I'm in this spot in my head where: I don't want to forget what I liked about her and why I was with her/I don't want to know or remember her... I wish there was a way to be connected that satisfied both of our wants and needs/I'm getting on much better without her. I think I'm happier now than I was two months ago, six months ago, nine months ago... but I do miss her, and I am still a bit hurt by what has gone down and how she flipped. It made me tear up for about 30 seconds for no reason a couple of weeks ago. Her life breaks my heart, and her actions both endear and frighten me. It's best for that we won't talk. I know that I won't meet anyone like her again (which is a hard lived lesson learned)... it had taken me this long to find her. In the end, I'm being more of myself for myself and I hope that she is happier.

sorry for the wanker note. I will definitely try to stop being such a pussy.