Sunday, Jun. 16, 2002 / 8:34 p.m.

~Keep Looking, Nobody's Home~

Taking a break in my "GL"s on tape. "Run Lola Run" is on. I could watch it over and over again. No, wait, I already have. I even own it. And the soundtrack too. I own it all. Not the DVD, as I don't own a DVD player.

I'm sorry, but I don't understand the American desire to get rid of everything old and keep buying everything new. If you have an old VCR and it works, why go out and buy a new DVD? If your stereo works, but it's 20 or 30 years old, why replace it? If your computer is 4 years old and a piece of crap....... er, wait a second.

I'm way off track here.

Since my previous entry from earlier today, I've taken a shower and washed my hair, first time since Thursday. I know, Ewwwwww! I went to the Recycling Center and sorted all my recyclables, and those from work, all those plastic drink bottles, newspapers, phone books, newspapers, catalogs, book club catalogs, corrugated cardboard, milk jugs, etc., and left them there, of course, and it felt really good, as always. It ALWAYS feels most excellent.

Then I went and got a pizza, just like what I got with Mark last Saturday, but a whole pizza instead of just two slices. And I got a salad and a beer for while I waited. And the guy behind the counter was the same guy and he looked at me the same way, because he looks at everybody, because he's standing there taking order after order after order, and I've been there, I've done that, and that is what you do, you look at everyone who approaches you, but I had on my Tattoo Arts Festival t-shirt from two weeks ago, and he kept looking at it trying to figure out what it was, and the bottom part was not visible to him behind the counter, the part with the Tattoo Arts Festival on it, so all he could see is the name of this city.

Long sentence, eh? But he had tattoos all over the place, and so did another guy behind the counter, one of the cooks.

Alas, I sat and inhaled my salad, as I was rather starving having not eaten yet, and I drank a Sam Adams beer because they were out of Bass, and I've learned I really don't like Sam Adams, but I sat and thought about all the men who haven't wanted to be with me, and I felt a sense of freedom in knowing that there is no point in me putting on any sort of airs, no airs at all, I don't ever need to try again (and you know I will anyway, because this is just how I am), but no one I want will ever want me, so I can just give up (but you know I never will, because this is just the way I am), but yes, it felt freeing.

I felt free.

I remembered Matt, from Amy's wedding in Long Island back in '99. Ah yes, Matt. We got along famously, I was smitten immediately, an amazingly intelligent man, very witty, a fucking Scorpio, and you know how I dig the Scorpios, but after our walk through Manhattan, with Kate and Marla, and I wanted him something awful terrible, we wrote email. He in NYC, me here, and we wrote and wrote, and he proceeded to tell me how he would never date me, how yes, how terribly attracted to me he is, but I am not for him and he knew this immediately.

As I said, I've written to Jon, nearly begging him to be the one man who is insultingly specific in telling me EXACTLY what it is about me that repels men, or him in particular, and we have only to wait to see if he responds.

I foresee one of several scenarios. One is: he says something along the lines of, "Oh please, woman, let it go! Go away! Out damned spot!", or: "It's not you, it's me, I was so hurt last year, I can tell you would hurt me later and I can't handle that", or: "Girl, you are butt ugly, and I kept kissing you to see if you'd get any purtier, but it just t'weren't happening!", or: really, I have no idea.

I suppose I may hear nothing at all. And I don't want to count on it. Hearing anything. Not at all. But I'm really beginning to dig this 'man anathema' thing. Like a built in man repellent. I can attract all kinds of men I'd never consider and they can fall in love with me, forcing me to get mean and tell them to just go the fuck away, but as soon as one catches my eyes, sets me on fire, well, instant repellent. How cool is that?!

Hey, I'm trying to feel better. Any way I do this is good.

It's cloudy and cooler. I have the taste of garlic filling my mouth. It's all I taste. I have on jeans, inside. I'm ready to go watch more "Guiding Light", with Norman on my lap. Or maybe Glad this time around. We have options. And I know, if I can stick to it, I never have to try again. I am closed for business. I've packed up and left town. Inside me, oh yeah, I'm gone. You might as well forget it. You want something from me? Keep looking, nobody's home.

And I just heard Lola yelling in the living room, "Mannnnniiiiiiiiii!", and I love that movie. I just love saying "Mani!", or "Lola!", or saying 'shit' in German, pretending I can speak German at all. I don't know how to spell it, but I say it at work all the time, because I know no one there even speaks English, much less bad German, "Schiess!", see, I don't know how to spell it, just say it.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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Run, Kitty, Run!

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