kanji

28 May, 2003
wasted... effort

This one-week hiatus has been brought to you by ennui, angst, and nihilism.

Of late, this diary has mutated into a bitchfest... all of the venting that should be done in realtime winds up here. Daily. Last week, that became a bit much. It became about "acting out." It was not without its calamitous events, nor its hard-won lessons. If they'll stick, or change the way things proceed... who knows. I just know there's limits that I won't cross, anymore.

Case in point: last Thursday. Yet another in a long line of electronic malfunctions... this time, the TV's screwed. And the recharger for the cellie, wires crudely cut. Coincidence? Occult explanation? A little "acting out" on another front? Whatever... I took the broken stuff out for repair, and decided to drop by Lord Bill's with a six of the homebrewed ale that was finally ready for consumption... fully intending to tie on a MasterBlaster of a buzz.

Determination is everything. I rang up Miss Jane to tell her I'd be back in a while... and the rest is history.

Stoli. Gin. Beer. etc. On an empty stomach. Many cellphone rings. When the clock struck one, off I'd run.

But I couldn't bring myself to go home. Which was wrong. Constant rain, darkness and stupidity, a dangerous mix. That's when I happened suddenly on the stop sign in the middle of nowhere, and the brakes were useless. The vines on the other side of the ravine did the trick, though.

There is no more sickly feeling than sitting in a car that's just done an off-road excursion in a muddy salad, knowing, full well, that the first vehicle to appear would be equipped with blue lights on the roof.

Thank you, adrenaline... the effects of which cleared my mind enough to rock the transmission from forward to reverse for momentum to finally back up onto solid pavement. How I ever got out of that swamp, I'll never know. Luck, for once.... when it really matters.

I'm really fond of my driver's license.

Back home to face the music... silence, changing to the same recriminations that surface when I'm sober and cooperative.

I slept... and awoke with the Hangover of the Gods. My penance... a radio show to do, which managed to go through smoothly. Another gift. On the way back home, I figured it was time to lay things out on the table and take it like a man. I spoke my mind, gave her the opportunity to vent... two hours later, it was like nothing ever happened. How wrong that seems. No progress made, no weight lifted.

Even acting out has no effect.

Regardless, I saw an amazing funk band on Saturday, L0rd 0f The Rings on Sunday, and took mountains of pictures for the fotoblog throughout.

And still, the rains come.

But I remain.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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