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Friday, Feb. 08, 2002 / 8:53 p.m. ~Me, not watching TV~ I really want to watch the Olympics Opening Ceremony, or the Thrashers/Rangers game, but I don't want to just sit in front of the TV. Sometimes I break from habit, can't find my way back to it immediately, and sometimes I see the internet as a form of communication, as when I'm sitting here, like this, right now, I'm communicating, with someone, and I don't know who. Today stayed busy, and right now I don't even remember it, I can only see flashes, like a strobe light is lighting an image of my cubicle in my brain, little flashes of me sitting there, but was it today?, and yes, I can remember what I wore, my black 501s, Casual Day, and I can remember when I leaned toward my filing cabinet to get some cocoa butter for my lips, out of my purse, and I saw Rasta in my peripheral vision, and heard him groan. He's been doing that, "Aaaarrrrrrrggggh!", only more guttural, more manly, or he tsk, tsk, tsks, sort of, clicking with his tongue, his lips, like he's calling out to someone, and he'll stand, and let out a big groan. Something is going on, he's anxious, or something. I have no clue. So, I was leaning over, seeing him, sort of, hearing him, how could I miss?, and he said, "Ugh, if you only knew.....", to himself, I guess, so I launched into this fantasy that I get sometimes, when I'm totally delusional, that he is outrageously attracted to me, that he can't stand the cold shoulder I've given him since the Lulu/Laverne/Me debacle. But then I see him with Laverne, I remember the photos he brought in to work on that snow day, the photos of his babies' mothers. Two boys, two different women. 26 years old, two kids, never married. He's a walking stereotype. They're voluptuous, round, big women, bigger than he is, and so is Laverne, and I think, no, he likes her, sure she's married, but I'm skinny and white, he'd never be attracted to me, and why should it be important for every man I'm surrounded by to be attracted to me?, but wait, it's not. I was attracted to him when I first met him, it's only lately that I've begun to despise him, judge him, criticize him to myself. Maybe I am the jealous one after all. "If you only knew........" I don't know what it meant, I don't know if he was on the phone in that moment, and I don't think he was, sometimes he talks aloud, to himself, praising Jah, usually. And I think, "Jah.....Rastafari.....", and I told him how I listen to Peter Tosh and Marley and Black Uhuru and Burning Spear, and I gave him that Gil Scott Heron CD, and he'd hugged me in return, and he'd begun to hug me every morning and every morning I hugged him back, and each time I felt his dreadlocks, and each time I thought how hard they feel, rock hard, how unusual, how I wanted more, how hugging him felt too good. I must've stopped because of what I was feeling, not because of who he is. Do I lie to myself? Or is it just me trying to convince myself of one thing or another? I sat, all day, most of the day, with the fan on, the sleeves rolled up, flannel shirted, fan off, sleeves rolled down, hot, cold, drinking water, answering the phone, saying the same things over and over, feeling rather powerful and confident. But anxious, restless, wanting more, daydreaming, writing, unable to read, listening to my radio, trying not to hear all the sound around me. When I came home and went into my closet to get something cozy to wear, I heard silence there, in that walk-in closet, and there was ringing in that silence, my ears were ringing with the absence of all the noise. I almost set myself up for bad, bad, juju, or Karma, late in the day. I'd saved that horrible woman's social, the one who was so unbelievably nasty to me on the phone, the stranger who yelled at me, and swore, to the point I felt assaulted and left the room crying. I entered it into the database, I altered her emergency contact's phone number. I went into her payroll info, and I came really, really, no, really, really, really, really, close to altering her pay rate. I was going to reduce it by 10 cents an hour. I had the number in there, all I had to do was hit the "enter" key, but I couldn't do it. It was going to be only a little glitch, enough to fuck her up. I just couldn't. I'm scattered, I don't want to think about work. I hear the Star Spangled Banner being sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir coming from the TV in the living room, the Opening Ceremonies are slow to start. Hermione called while I was online earlier, right when I was beginning to read diaries, catch up, and I called her back, we talked for about an hour. Good, intellectual conversation, it felt so amazing! Wow, I'm going to miss her so much......I lie to myself about her too, telling myself I don't need her, that she's this or that, or the other, analyzing, breaking it down, judging her, but it's all because she's leaving, she's been gone a while already, we're not what we were, and were we ever? Anything? Were we close? But we can talk, we can go from the changes in standardized public education over the past three decades, or the standardizing of public education, to the evolutionary processes of human beings, and ADD perhaps being a sign of increased intelligence.....to recent movie releases, to rescuing feral domestic animals (is that an oxymoron?), to anything really, and we switch, we swoop, we dive in and out of topics, and we find the words, we agree, or agree to disagree when we don't, and she can match me, I don't have to explain what I know, she believes the Fourth Plane may well have been shot down too, she knows a good bit........we can talk. I miss talking. Dammit, I miss having a friend. This whole diary thing has been a way for me to talk to people, but there isn't really anyone there, is there? It's not a valid experience, it's not qualitative intimacy, it's not even remotely close to being discourse. It's an ongoing monologue. And ultimately not fulfilling. I hope Hermione and I keep talking. I hope we talk once she's out West, that she calls me, or I call her, I hope I have to pay a long distance bill every month, I hope I do spend money on a plane ticket, I hope I do go visit them, I hope I do get to see little Lilly again. I feel a wave of regret for being angry, for judging, and I see me as someone with severe abandonment issues. Suddenly. I got stoned earlier. This entire entry is marijuana-influenced. Did you notice? I've haven't been stoned since....mmmmm....I don't know, I wrote about it here, in this diary, but I don't feel like looking for it. Either way, I had to clean my pipe, it wouldn't draw any air at all, totally clogged, had to take out the screen, which was caked, and shake it out, use pipe cleaners, etc. It's a very cool pipe, one of several I have, but it's a steel rod covered with a spiral wrap of suede, and at the end is a mouthpiece made from shed antler, and the other end is deep bowl, also made of shed antler. It's very nice, very earthy, I bought it in the parking lot at a Dead show, the person who made it sold it to me, told me how she made it, probably '92 or something. That very parking lot is now Centennial Olympic Park. Ahhhh....the memories, the lots, the people, "Doses, doses, who's got the doses???", "I need a miracle!", "Veggie burritos, get your veggie burritos!". Fun. Gone, gone, gone...... Right, so anyway, smoking made me more analytical, it opened up some closed portion of my psyche, sort of cleared the fog from my brain's windshield, yep, marijuana, the defogger. Because Hermione doesn't stay in touch as often as I think a friend should, I decide she's not a good friend, she's not worthy, she's this, and that too, and if she's moving to the other side of this country, well, so what, who cares, la dee da, I don't need people, I hate people, blah, blah, blah, but really it's more like me being infantile in my own behavior. Sure, I need her, I love her, I've known her ten fucking years! I knew Lilly since before she was even a thought, I held her the day after she came into this world, these people are important to me and I don't need to keep letting people go the way I do. Some people are worth keeping. I'm going to see her tomorrow. Lilly is already with her father, S., grower of this fine herb I've just smoked, actually, out in the West, actually, in the same town as these very Olympic Winter Games.......I should visit. I will, I won't put it off, I'll save if I have to. Everything is going to be okay, right? My bestest friend in the world is leaving me, but it will all be okay, right? I don't need to shut her out because she's leaving, right? We can still be friends? Okay. And maybe one day I can admit that I need people, in general, but they simply disappoint me and I can't take any more disappointment, it hurts too much. Cost of the War in Iraq
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