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once an entry is burned in here, it's a rarity for me to have the stomach to go back and read them again. it's kind of like the despite i hold for hearing my own recorded voice (fucked up for a radio-type): the difference between what i think i hear and the taped evidence are two completely different things. more often than not, a bitter disappointment. for the sake of not being repetitive, i should probably swallow hard and make damned sure the same crap hasn't gone on before... though, in the two-odd years this site has been alive it's probably status quo. this is why precious little has found its way onto the updates, in the past few weeks. y'know... the Department of Redundancy Department. well chronicled have been the many "unpleasantries" of my married life. well, it's worse than that, now. latest case in point: the usual mechanical shit was hitting the fan, last week. it's the Achilles' Heel of a cheap motherfucker... own crap cars, pay for it often with scrapes and junkyard spelunking. without too much boring detail, let's just say it was four days of curses, fretting, trips to the breakers' yard and the parts store. it was necessary to sacrifice another day of vacation just to get the job done... three, that afternoon, i was done. and damn, did i relish the thought of a cold one to celebrate. that's the time Yoko usually arrives back from work... and i waited long enough to say "hello," and that i'd be back later. probably should have been more specific. when i rang back at seven, that's when Vesuvius erupted. threats of calling the police... breaking everything of mine in the house... making me "pay." and, i have been paying, ever since. the "divorce" word has been getting a lot of airplay. my "bullshit" being another. my "drinking". my "friends". my "accident" last year. suspicions, accusations, recriminations, threats. every occasional meeting with people not of her liking (meaning, basically, everyone), cause for damnation. not supporting her daughter... that's another big problem. two work days went by, with no contact... but the festivities resumed upon my return. and, if there was anyplace else i could have been, within reason, i would never have made the trip back. now, i don't love my work. in fact, the anticipation of the final punch of the clock has been the stuff of hyperventilation for as long as i can remember. but, as the miles reeled off on my homeward trip (even though the odometer doesn't work anymore), that abhorrent feeling in the pit of my belly magnified the closer i got... very reminiscent of the feeling you get when you've done something horrible, and are just about to have it found out. by everybody. or when a loved one passes away, and you are completely helpless to make sense out of the situation, or bring them back. and there is nothing. it's like finding yourself in a Salvador Dali painting... the colors are just too bright and crisp, the perspective a bit too dramatic, there are things hidden in the pattern that you don't see, at first... and there is also, the Horror. wow... i suppose this means that love is absent, forever. hope, as well. i think maybe that left a long time ago. at least, in this phase of my life. if nothing else has transpired, Yoko has at last found her ability to get up in my face. cheers to her newfound talent. wait 'til i get my hands on that therapist. much easier, now, for her to assure me, hysterically, that any divorce would be costly to me. funny, considering how former husbands were prone to violence, and wound up paying... nothing. ditto for raising her child. it's already cost plenty. mainly, my desire. to do anything. the radio... all but abandoned. my work on the hill... stillborn. ability to sit at the drawing table... vanished. so, if not another word appears here, it'll be no mystery. but i won't be this way, forever. perhaps i'll be back. but it won't be soon. |
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