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2004-07-24 @ 10:52 p.m.
doomsday drives a train

Well, after a brief respite from my angst-crying jags-not wanting to be here, Iím back to well, the angst-crying jags-not wanting to be here thing again. damn.

But what did I expect? All the shit didnít go away. Itís still here, with a few additional things added in just to make life marvy. A letter from my insurance company telling me theyíre going to cancel my ass, unless I cough up $92 by August 22. Not gonna happen. I donít have $92, unless I sell 92 $1.00 items on E-Bay, but then after E-Bay takes their cut, and Pay-pal takes their cut, and I drive my uninsured car down to the post office and have a car accident, while attempting to mail 92 E-Bay items, Iím still going to be in the same boat. If not worse.

And my trip to the mountains with Married Guy had an unexpected effect. I fell more in love with the goofball. Being with him for 24 hours, under adverse conditions, and seeing him handle everything with amazing agility, and seeing him interact with his kids lovingly and handle his parents skillfully and trying to help me with my problems, I just want to call Norway to nominate him for the freakiní Nobel Peace Prize. No heís not perfect. He yelled at his kids a few times, and kicked around angrily once or twice, and even grumped at me for shining the flashlight in his eyes, but my God, it was the absolute Day from Hell, who wouldnít have?

Sure I have a case of Idol Worship. I do that with several people including ďAĒ, but Married Guy is really an outstanding person, which makes me feel even worse that heís not mine, and that his wife was coming home the next day and that they were probably making mad, passionate love all over the freakiní house, because theyíre so in love. damnit. I just canít take it anymore. It is so painful. If I was in love with a louse who beat me, or took drugs or stole money from me, it wouldnít be so difficult to extricate myself.

Itís hell having good taste.

I did get the pictures from the mountains developed today. There were some cute ones of Married Guy and his sons, and one I snuck of him taking a nap in the camper. I literally had to pull my purse out from under his sleeping head to get my camera and was afraid I was going to wake him, but I didnít appear to, and I took a really cute shot of him conked out while waiting for the tow truck.

And tonight I made one of my famous humorous newsletters with the photos. Being a graphic artist and a humorist writer, I can really put together funny newsletters, and Iím sure heíll really enjoy the ironic tone of this one, considering how truly wretched the day was.

But other than that, my day was rather gloomy. I tried to do some garage sale-ing, in an attempt to find some stuff for E-Bay, but I did not see one thing worth buying. The only thing I got was a large plastic container with a drawer where I can put my painting supplies and brushes. Iíve had them in this ratty box on my living room couch for a month, but now I can put them in this like-new plastic bin, which probably costs about $8-$10 in Staples, but I got for a mere 10 cents.

Then after flailing around in garage sale land for less than a half hour, I ended up at the Crazy Crazy place downtown. I really had to talk to someone because I was so depressed. Fortunately there was a woman there who went with me into an office and listened to me cry for about 40 minutes. She was very nice and I felt a lot better after talking to her. I think Iím just incredibly lonely and at a loss about what to do about all this impending financial disaster and broken heart shit.

I love ďAĒ, but I really canít talk to him about Married Guy anymore, because he basically just tells me to dump him. I know that part, but sometimes I just need somebody to listen to me. Broken hearts donít mend themselves. Iím not a robot. And Iím not able to just bravely go meet men, be open and inviting to new relationships, and have my life change for the better. If that were possible, I would have done it already, right?

Unfortunately I am at an incredible stalemate: 1) Iím stuck on Married Guy. 2) I have no confidence that I could achieve such an incredible feat, as in, letting somebody new in. 3) I canít believe that anybody could love such a wacka-wacka (me). 4) Who wants to stick around three years before I get comfortable enough with them to maybe let them hold my hand. 5) Nobody can seem to understand the first four facts no matter how many times I tell them.

I AM STUCK. And just saying: (this from my mom) ďJust Talk To PeopleĒ and (this from ďAĒ) ďAsk somebody out for coffee after your art classĒ will not be happening. Iím too shy. Doesn't anyone get that?

I am paralyzed with fear when it comes to social interactions. You both are outgoing, if not flirtatious people. I am not. I do not trust people. I feel that people are destined to either hurt me or take advantage of me. I know its a lousy attitude, but dems the facts.

I was talking to my mom today, and sheís all kinda like ďAnnieĒ ďThe sun will come out tomorrowĒ-ish, while Iím lying on the couch moaning ďLife Totally Sucks!Ē But I was also saying to her, if I could only have ONE GOOD THING happen to me, and get just a smidgen of confidence, there would be no stopping me, since I do have an incredible spirit. I may lack confidence, but I so keep kicking ass donít I?

But I need that one good thing happen. And it needs to happen soon. What is it? Where is it? Who is it? I donít know. I mean, we could start kicking around cliches like ďitís always darkest before the dawnĒ. And if thatís the case, there must be a freakiní winning lottery ticket with my name on it somewhere nearby, because its pretty damn dark right now. But that lottery ticket doesnít even necessarily have to be a lottery ticket. It could just be a person or an opportunity or a bag of money that falls off an armored truck unnoticed.

I also keep reading these horoscopes that keep telling me that somebody is coming into my life really soon. Is that just what horoscopes in July always say? Or is it true? And if it is, would they hurry the fuck up! I need you person.

Because its amazing how long bad times seem to hang around, and how fleeting good times are. I mean, not that I know about good times, mind you. Iím still waiting for the good times. I literally have never had any good times. Iíve never made a lot of money. Iíve never been in love with the right person. Iíve never won any contests.

My happiest times have always involved solitary things like writing, doing art and walking. Those arenít real show-stopping, life altering Good Time events. More like commas between really bad stretches of dialogue. Theyíre kinda there because theyíre somewhat necessary, but you donít even really think about it when you put them there, because theyíre not all that earthshaking. Theyíre just kinda there.

So the highlight of my day, after my crying siege at the Crazy Crazy place, was a one block walk to our local museum. The ďsuggested donationĒ for entry was $5, but freakiní hell, I donít have $5, so when the guard turned his back, there was a rather loud clanking deposit of 3 quarters into the plexiglass depository. Ya think everybody in the entire place heard that instead of the soft whoosh of a five dollar bill? Probably. Well, fuck off, art patrons. Iím having a bad day. I need me some art to feel better, and its only a suggested donation anyways.

Fortunately our museum had a new show called Biennial - Double Take. It was a pretty cool show and very inspiring for me. Although I was rather annoyed at being closely shadowed by this rather plump female guard. I guess I looked the type who might slash a piece of artwork with a pen knife, or possibly try and stick a 10 ft by 12 ft. Jackson Pollock in my purse. But back off Betty, Iím just admiring art. OK????? Anyways...

Pictured here is a tiled encased television that was playing a loop of psychedelic imagery accompanied by weird music youíd hear at a party in a loft in Soho. And then nearby was a painting called Doomsday Drives a Train.

...I think we may have finally have a name for my upcoming autobiography.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty