16 April, 2006
the Shit List

the problem with calming Big Egos, is that the trait is expected... nay, demanded.
the byproduct of the defusing process is that the Big Egos usually get their way.

recently, it's been easier to see that manipulation for what it is, and that brings us to:

the Shit List.

as of this afternoon, i am officially on four of them.

the first, as i have so often dwelled upon, is my separated spouse... and after weekly calls trying to feel me out about how awful her life is, expecting me to play Knight In Shining Armor, i'm not biting. i see why i belong on that one.

the second one that i occupy, is the Diva's (soon-to-be-ex-landlady). i'm still not sure how i got there, exactly, but it all started up after i'd mentioned how much i enjoyed my trip. if that's jealousy, it's bizarre... since i never made a move on her while i was "happily" married, and after a while i knew her too well for that. so, i was briefly out of a place to stay, when she gave me my walking papers at the end of the month.

number three erupted on Thursday, when i had to tell Biggles that i couldn't join him on his fantasy to Memphis (for the PonderosaStomp, which i'd belatedly found occurs on Mon-Tues-Wed instead of a weekend--my work week,in a nutshell). as i was informing him of this on the phone, he repeated himself saying "FUCK! I Knew This Would Happen!" before slamming down the phone. the one thing guaranteed to turn me to molten stone.
i think he was more interested in a driver, as i think of it more. he's not legal.

...and four.
Mamasan. my old tiller broke a vital part, last manufactured in the Steam Age.

(vignette)

in my search for said part, i made two wasted trips to a backwater supplier... the only one open on a Saturday afternoon, since country folk like to get their drink on after the noon hour. the first person at the counter, i knew was going to be trouble.
round head, equal length of hair on top of his head as the stubble on his cheeks. "model number ain't good enuff. if'n i had a pitchur book, i might could find it. i ain't got no pitchur book."

four hours later, when i'd gotten every number ever stamped on the engine block as evidence, his relief worker, (every bit as round, but older... and wheezed like TonySoprano), couldn't find it in a book, either. of course, i could come back on Monday....

that's what it's like, here. Newlyweds, Nearly Deads, and the Comfortably numb.

since mater's garden didn't get tilled exactly when she wanted it to, she joined the other three in stomping and demanding like petulant children... and sticking my name in the Book Of Shame.

except, i'm not. ashamed.

i am, however, willing to say goodbye to all that... and let them find another "peacemaker" to influence.

it's like i was telling the Geisha, this morning... if i could have bottled up the feeling i had after those short few days in California, this world would not need drugs.

and i'd have been hitting that bottle, hard.

.