NOTE: If you are easily offended by offensive things then please go somewhere else. I suggest or, you wuss!


Friday, November 29, 2002

Let it not be said that my life would make an excellent sh*tty romance novel.

MOOD: happy yet sad/sad yet happy

BACKGROUND: Neil Diamond (classic break up music)

She broke up with me.

Single again. Funny, that. Sounds kinda funny.

Single Steve.

No making this some sort of big, dramatic, down on myself thing. F*ck that stuff, you know? I've been way to down for the past year to go through that again. She's getting divorced, newly single, and she says that she needs to learn to be alone now, learn to be strong, and although she loves me and still wants to be withe forever, she needs to learn how to be herself and be strong by herself.

And other chick bullsh*t like that.

How am I coping with this?

I dunno. I'm not kill myself, my life is pointless Steve right now, which I should be, in all honesty, but I'm not sad, either. I'm just here, just me. Just sort of empty and in pain and sad but in this strange, silent, subconscious way that I can't really put into words. It's just there somewhere inside myself, this hole where she used to be, maybe still is.

And that's that. I imagine I'll cry later, maybe tomorrow. But not now. Not now.

Now I'm going downtown. By myself. Going to go see a local band play, the Knockoffs and the Riff Randals live at the Distillery. WAS going to take her, but she left me, so I'm taking me there.

And that's that, I guess.

Today is the Super Bowl for customer service representatives.

MOOD: little raspy

BACKGROUND: Alien Ant Farm

The day after Thanksgiving, the biggest shopping day of the year, the World Series for people in retail, people who suffer for all you a**holes out there, people ... like me. So, sick or not, I'm going out there, into the brink once more, dear friends, stepping out into oblivion.

The last day I worked I saw some flyers for "BUY NOTHING DAY," right, and it said something about "stop the corporate beast" and "make your voice count by killing the money machine" and other such b.s. hippie jihad fawtas, you know? I laughed when I saw those secretly posted all over my bookstore. Yeah, like anyone can stop this day from happening, like anyone can stop the shopping from happening.

Get a clue, hippies!

(I just like blaiming things on the hippies)

Little bit phlemmy still. Little bit hoozy. Little bit raspy and hazy still from my sickness these past few days. But I have to do this. I have to go out there and face the public, the maddening thrones of shoppers all stupid and mindless and wanting my blood. In my mind it's like a battle between good and evil, the republic and the resistance, me and the people. So sick or not, I need to go out there and fight the good fight.

I'm like the bookstore Jesus.

Thursday, November 28, 2002

Never thought I'd use the phrase Kafkaesque to describe a wednesday night with my familia.

MOOD: happy yet frightened

BACKGROUND: Rolling Stones "Her Satanic Majesty's Request"

It's almost midnight and I'm here drinking up a wonderful storm with my mom and dad. I decided it was best not to go to the bar tonight, considering my sickness. I also decided that if I was going to stay at home tonight, I was going to wage full frontal chemical warfare in my body against this sickness. So I went to the store, bought me the pills and the drinks and the vapo-rubs and the cough pills and the ointments and the teas and the medication and all that crap.

It's like f**king 'NAM up in this body, b*tch!

So I've got a stomache full of extra strength Robitussin pills, a cap and a half of NyQuill, some antibiotics, way too much vitamic C, and now I'm capping that off with a few beers with my crazy parents. My dad, my estranged father, is back for a few days.

Thank god for f-en turkey day, right?

My mom is near tears, which is pretty much usual for a night drinking with my family. Everyone who knows me personally knows that once my mother starts crying, it's time to leave. And it might me time for me to leave. And my dad's starting to get angry and beligerent, which is nothing new. When he drinks, he shuts himself off. Nothing new. Nothing special.

I've spent my entire life with these people to the point where I can recognize their patterns and live comfortably with them. I know my dad, in a few short minutes, will storm to bed. My mom will cry. They will storm off to bed, leaving me here by myself. Then, when they're in bed, they will speak nothing of the night's evens, wake up tomorrow morning, and pretend like none of this ever happened.

It sucks having to tuck in your parents. You know that?

But tright now, we're riding the shark, you know, on the cusp of the wave, and right now we're still all drinking happilly, hanging out, eating our steaks, listening to music, hanging out. My mom is occasionally getting teary-eyed (she can cry about anything when she's been drinking) and my dad is only occasionally being angry dad. But we're a family right in the here and now, drinking, laughing, having a blast.

We are all just superfriends, like Robin, Flash, and Aquaman.

Wild night. My dad drinking and angry. My mom drinking and crying. And me with a head full of NyQuill and alcahol, fading in and out, trying not to pass out.

But hey! At least my throat feels fine.

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

Sick all to hell, missing my baby.

MOOD: ready to throw up

BACKGROUND: Life of Brian

Think I got this from my Col, too. She was pretty sick the past few times I had seen her. Now we're both homebound at our respected houses, missing each other. And we can't really talk on the telephone because I don't really have a voice anymore. So we're stuck missing each other, which sucks. I could do with a bit of her right now.

Well, the big He has a big date tonight with Bobbie, my blonde co-worker friend. It's a big moment tonight, these two going out together on a date, doing the dinner and a movie thing. If things go well tonight, then the big He will forever be behind us, behind Col and me, and we will have nothing more to ever worry about.

Too bad I'm too busy vomiting.

Monday, November 25, 2002

Got sad today for no reason at all and found myself crying in the bargain book section of my work.

MOOD: quiet hazy sort of sad

BACKGROUND: food and "Fisher King"

And again I say that there is no one specific reason for me being sad, me being exhausted, me flip-flopping through emotions so heavily that I quietly lost it at work tonight. No real reason other than I've been through the gauntlet from hell this past weekor two and although I have emerged unscathed, I still have subconscious emotional scars that are still screwing around with my head.

The big Him, the other guy in my triangle, well, he's now dating Bobbie, the attractive and spacey young blonde catch from my work. They're seeing each other, not very seriously, but they're boyfriend/girlfriend, which should take the heat off of me for a while, which is good.

I've been through enough drama to make Stephen King freak out a bit.

So, I should be happy. The doors are now open for me to finally hape an open, honest, healthy romantic relationship with this woman who will love me until the ends of the earth. But something is stopping me from being too happy, something holding me down a bit, slowing me down like quicksand.

Here's to bouncing back soon.

Sunday, November 24, 2002

Col can sense things and sensed that something was wrong, so she asked me tonight if perhaps she was making me feel uncomfortable ... and I answered her honestly and openly.

MOOD: hazy

BACKGROUND: Kids in the Hall

I told her ... I was extremely depressed. I was very much sad and depressed and contemplative and introspective and all around quiet, which is something that I usually am not. But I am. I'm quiet now. And I might be quiet for a very long time beyond my drunk night at the bar.

And I told her that in no way does it have to do with her or us or how I feel for her. Either does it have to do with the big Him or with my detached parents or my brother who loves me and at the same time wants to kick my a** for what I'm doing to this family, you know? Neither does it have anything to do with work or with my health or with my ex, the legendary Debmonster (whom I still love, in my own way), or with any of that.

Or maybe, in a better way to put it, it has to do with all of that stuff and more. But I digress ...

I'm just sad now. It isn't anybody's fault. It's just that, as you can see by looking back at all my previous blogs here, I have had, dramatic pause, one hell of a f**king few weeks. Anger, fighting, crying, love, hate, violence, and nearly drinking myself to death. And now I find myself in a position where the big Him has realized that Col and I are in love with each other and is allowing himself to detach himself from her so that we can finally say that we are dating.

So why am I depressed when this should be the happiest time in my life? I don't know. If I knew, I'd tell you. I'm just emotionally exhausted now after all I've been through to get here and I'm a bit scared that I may stay this way, quiet and shy and longing, forever. I'm scared too, constantly waiting for that subconscious other shoe to drop, you know? The moment when the big Him loses it and finally gets revenge against me.

So here I am. I'm almost 26 years old living in California with a cell phone and a leather jacket and a Caddy and a manager job at a bookstore and I am dating a young woman who is absolutely in love with me. And I'm so stupid that I'm depressed.

At least the new Osbourne episodes start next week.

Saturday, November 23, 2002

Exhausted in every possible way but somehow quietly smiling.

MOOD: quiet content

BACKGROUND: WWE: The Anthology

Went to the bar last night. You know how you can tell? Because yesterday was a day of the week. Well anyways, I was concerned. I mean, once I arrived he, the big He, said he needed to talk to me outside for a little bit. That spells trouble any way you spell it, you know? And my life has been a non-stop exchange of drama and angry words and pages out of script of Guiding Light.

But things were good. We sat outside for a while, smoked, exchanged words, told each other how we felt. Talked some things over. Some deep personal s**t, too, that I won't mention here. But the thing was, when we returned to the land of the living back inside he let us be us, let us go on by ourselves, Col and me. We held hands, kissed, talked trash about people and our pasts, laughed.

Felt good. Felt free. Felt like it should, you know, two people who have found each other thrown together, sort of testing the waters of a relationship.

Feel strange. Feel like I've never felt this way before, like I have to learn how to kiss all over again but this time it's the first time. Like I'm back in high school feeling up Theresa Schoenbraum on her couch while her mom's away. Like this is the first time I've had my arm around a woman before. Like these are my first steps.

Going out tonight. Please, no drama tonight.

Friday, November 22, 2002

Popped a few prozacs with my coffee this morning, so work was a breeze.

MOOD: happily headless

BACKGROUND: "Wonderboy" by Tenacious D

Work is just getting more and more crazy coming to Christmas and it's just going to get more stupid. More stupid customers. More ignorant a-holes. More negativity. Which is fine, because I've run the gauntles these past ten or so days. I've argued. I've vomited. I've passed out. I've cried. I almost drank myself to death. I've had to fight for myself. I've had to stand up to anger and adversity. I've had to face the other man and tell him every last shred of truth, the unadulterated facts, even the crap I've been hiding from myself. All that and I've gotten some nice sex.

So bring it on, Mr. Day-After-Thanksgiving, you little b*tch! I almost died. Bring on your holliday hell and all it's b.s. fury because what can't kill me can only make me stronger and more of a wise a**. Work aint gonna be nothin'.

This song is the best goddamm song in the entire world, damm, this rocks. Jack Black is a god, I swear to him! And you know something a bit scary? My brother, my older, more violent prone, more racist, more insensitive and hot tempered (the bizzaro Steve), he's Mister Serious-Karaoke-Guy with about thirty of his own private discs of songs in this case that he takes to the bar, right? Well, he's got everything from Metallica to P. Diddy and even, yeah, "the history of Wonderboy and young Nastyman."

Should be pretty frightening tonight. Not as scary as my Britney Spears, though, but right up there.

Are they going to be there tonight, the ex-lovebirds, my couple? Oh hell yeah. A lot of drama and tension and yelling and bickering and long walks outside and s**t, typical night at the Maple Room cocktail lounge, Sacramento, California. I love this woman, I do. I also love myself, you know, and this is a nonstop emotional roller coaster of back and forth bickering that I hope will all be worth it one day when I can honestly say that I am "with" this woman.

Never been good at this whole "being in love" thing.

Probably my parents fault. Screw them.

Thursday, November 21, 2002

Strange scenes like from someone else's dream.

MOOD: glazed over

BACKGROUND: South Park Season 1

Like some bizzare play that I finding myself acting a part in. It's like I've been awake for days dancing this strange dance at some club I'm not familiar of and I'm so tired, so exhausted, but I'm too scared too go to sleep. Or perhaps I'm asleep and I'm too scared to wake up.

My life is good. I know that. I'm feeling happier, healthier. Feeling good about myself. Things are great.

That doesn't mean things are perfect, though. Still a lot of anger. Still a lot of yelling. Some unforgivable things that can never be erased. Some dark spots that are like chasms that I don't think will ever be forgotten no matter what. I realized that I was going to find myself in a position like this one when I fell in love with a married woman. I walked into a bear trap when I first met her eyes across the bar, when I first put my arm around her and told her how great she looked, when I first kissed her.

It's like I'm running this marathon, you know? Drama like in high school but more intense, more personal, and with lives on the line. Drama played out amongst bad music and warm beer and cigarette smoke. And throughout all this tension, all this drama, all this chaos, I know I shouldn't be smiling. I know I shouldn't be happy. But I guess I am.


Wednesday, November 20, 2002

Just want to say one more thing ...

Damm, my life is good.

She's sitting here with me!!!

MOOD: unbelievable

BACKGROUND: seether and DMB

No s**t.

She wants her turn, so here's her, here's my little Col.

hi all!!!! Happy times.

That's f-en it? I mean, goddamm! I've been writing to everyone about you for over a freaken' week now, and now that you have your chance to write to all my fans (chuckle) you just say that? Come on! You must have more to say. At least mention my latino heat.

sorry, I am eager to take you to bed, can you blame a girl?

Okay, !SO! Reverend Steve has to go to sleep now! Good freakin' night.

Hold on ...

I haven't said this in a long, long time, but ... goddamm life is f**king good.

Stand back ... there's a hurricane coming through.

Tuesday, November 19, 2002

Trying to get used to feeling content, which is hard considering the events of this past week.

MOOD: peaceful

BACKGROUND: Office Space

Just got off of work. I've got a cold Coke, some Burger Queen, and I'm watching a movie right now. Things are good. Things are content. I woke up happy. I spent the whole day happy. And now it's late, it's cold, it's foggy, and I'm still happy. I've been miserable for so long and what with my crying, anger-filled, almost killing myself week, God knows I deserve to feel good about myself, happy to live my life for once, goddammit.

Not sure if the Other Guy spent his evening with Bobbie, the hot/dumb chick from my work. Hope so. Goddamm I really hope they hooked up, him and Bobbie. That would make my life just so much better. Hope and pray they hooked up. And even if they didn't, no biggie. I know that they're going out drinking and singing tomorrow night.


Really damm funny how life tends to work itself out, you know?

In just a small matter of time, my life has changed so much. I went over to their place today - they're staying with a friend right now and this friend is kicking him out at the end of the month, so they're still living together, Col and Him, but only temporary - and picked her up. He was there. He knew I was picking her up and knew I was taking her out. But before her and I spent the day together, Him and I hugged, sat down on the couch, watched Tom and Jerry, had a smoke, talked about wrestling, and then I took her out for a few hours. And that was fine. I even told her I loved her in front of him. And he smiled.

And later on this week, me, my Col, and my mom are going to go see that new Harry Potter movie, maybe get a drink or two afterwards.

Today was a great day. And I had better prepare myself for many more to come.

Damm, that's cool.

Sunday, November 17, 2002

Smiling right now, smiling honestly, which feels so damm good.

MOOD: energetic

BACKGROUND: wrestlemania 18

Why shouldn't I be? I've never said this before, well, not since three years ago, but ... I'm dating someone, a woman who really loves me. I'm seeing someone, holding hands with someone, and everything feels wonderful.

Damm. What am I going to say to the girls at work, all those young, nubile women who long for the latino heat? What am I going to say to the ex-fiance, huh? That's a conversation stopper, right? What am I going to say to my parents, huh? I don't have any idea what I'm going to say to them. There's no real good way to say that I'm dating this woman. I love her, but this is going to be incredibly difficult.

But you know what? I'm sober. I'm eating Jack in the Crack, reading Harry Potter, watching old footage of the Rock and Sock connection and listening to the Ataris and the Knockoffs and just smiling. Honestly smiling. Feeling good. I have the love of a great woman and the ultimate blessings of the Other Man.

I've been through hell and back this past week and when I woke up I realized that all that happened was that I was living in California.

That's going to be a great line in my movie.

Saturday, November 16, 2002

Drunk right now, so what's new?

There was fog out tonight, fog so thick, leftover fog from San Francisco bay. Fog so thick and heavy that I thought I was in some sort of horror movie. Thick. Heavy. Bad. Seriously messed up. And I'm from the desert, the heat and racism of Arizona, USA, a place where fog never hits. Bit I made it to the bar anyway. Why? Becuase I'm a trooper.

Bobbie was there at the karaoke bar tonight. She is a girl I work with, a young blonde woman that has hit on me, sure, and I've hit on her, sure, and she is as hot, as sexy, as incredibly attractive all to hell as she is rock stupid. Nice to see her drunk. It's everything you would expect and more.

I wanted to sing to her, not to Bobbie but to Col. Wanted to sing the song, OUR song, "Where Are you Going" by the Dave Matthews Band. The song I sing to her. But it never came in to the rotation. Oh well.

The fog should have let me know something, you know? Some sort of clue. Some sort of quiet, subconscious sign of things to come.

Sitting here eating Jack in the Crack and watching last year's Royal Rumble just so that I can see my hero, the Hurricane. I tried to downplay my love of wrestling when Deb and I were together. But now that I'm here I have to say ... I love wrestling, I love the Hurricane. I love all the stupid crap, the bad storylines, the overUBERdrama, the bad acting, the whole story. Like watching Titanic but with submission moves. And this, wrestling, I now know is my comfort show, my comfort food so to speak. I watch this to make me feel better. I mean, hey, as bad as things get, at least I'm not Test.

Speaking of the ex-fiance ...

I still love her. She'll probably never know this, but I still have a spot in my heart for her. In all my life, this one thing will never change. I am in love with Debby. I loved her and I still love her. I was engaged yto her for a reason, that I honestky thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. And that's that. It just hurts me now knowing how well her life is without me, you know? She's happy and energetic and open and honest and smiling and artistic, all the things she refused to be while in love with me. When I was on the phone with her (it was her birthday yesterday) she was saying goodbye to someone at the party and she said "Yeah, this is my year. This is my year to shine."

I cried.

I cried because my life is drinking and working and drinking and falling in a painful love triangle. Yeah, sure, my life is great, too, Deb. Thanks.

I've cried way too much in the last 42 hours.

And they were there tonight. Him and her. My pretty little love triangle. We were good for a while, the three of us. Especially after last night, a lot of crying and yelling and violence and anger and aggression, but it was all acpped off by the three of us going to the bar and getting pissed ass drunk. And I know now that beer will wash away almost any anger. Almost. So tonight, or last night, was the night where he, the big HE, had his date I set him up on, right? But this date, the date between him and the illustrious Red Lobster chick, did not go well. Ok, yeah, she's already dating someone. Ok, he got hurt. And if she was single, my day would have been a million times better But things happened the way they did. And he's telling her these bad things and setting the seeds of self-doubt in me, and trying subconsciously, or perhaps consciously, to hurt us, to destroy us.

And I do love her, I think. I think I just might love this woman. And it scares me that I would even think about love ever again after being hurt so much with the Debmonster. But I find myself in feelings of eternal love with this woman. But, in all honestly, I cannot see us together if this other man is in the situation. As long as he is here, I will not be with this woman. If he's being a baby and playing these games, then Col and I will never happen. Ever.

The thing that hurts me the most about this ... that night, the night we spent together, the night me and her went out, the night eeventually everyone found out about ... we did not f**k each other. We made love. It was the first time I had sex in almost a year, and I was scared and frightened and nervous. But it happened. And it was beautiful. Fluid. Like water falling onto a windshield. Amazing.

And when I see her now, even at the horrible bar with the horrible music and the horrible beer, all I can think about is how she tastes, how she felt, and how I want that again.

But if he, the big HE, is in this situation, I cannot live through this pain, this frustration, this heartache. Everyday I wake up I am in pain. Everyday I live now I hurt. I don't know how much longer I can take this.

When I finally write this book, it's going to be f-en great. John Leguizamo is going to have to play me when I sell the movie rights.

Friday, November 15, 2002

Going out to the bar tonight.

Add dramatic music here.

No, no, no, no, no. No more drama. No more lies. No more hiding. No more fearing for my safety and well being. No more drama. I'm going to go to the bar tonight and drink and sing and get plastered. The other guy, the violent man, the husband. Remember him? Well, I set him up with a date. One of the hot as all hell Red Lobster women. And anyone who has ever gone t this bar knows and most likely adores the legendary Red Lobster women.

And me and her? Well, we're going to have a few beers, sing a few songs, dance a few dances, and see. And see. But one thing has apparently been made clear. If he goes home with the Red Lobster chick, then I'm taking HER home.

I'm a mexican-american that's slowly turning into one of the biggest white trash mofo's in the world.

So, random note. This lady comes to work today, tells me she's looking for this one book. She doesn't know the name of it or the author but the author is the same person who whote the KJV bible.

So who's the author? God?

This'll be my third christmas with the Barnes and Noble organization. I got this job after almost two years with a major video store chain that treated me so bad and whose work politics and policies were so illegal that I stole my weight in swag. And in my almost five years in the world of customer service, I've learned a motto that helps me survive day in and day out.

The customer is always right, even when they're completely f**king wrong.

Wish me luck tonight.


Actually, honestly smiling.

Feelings like skipping through grassy fields inside my chest.

Eating cold pizza and there has never been anything that has ever tasted better to me than this cold pizza. God, I love cold pizza. And I love sitting here listening to oh so evil pirated songs on my computer. And I love reading Terry Pratchett books because they are just so funny. And I love this new sweater I bought myself. And I love these new socks I'm wearing. Sure I stole them from my brother, but still. I feel warm now, and I don't think it's all the socks and the sweater, if you know what the hell I'm saying.

Today, the next day. Wow. Today is a good day. A new day dawns in the lion's den which is California and young Reverend Steve finds himself alive.

Man, love's kinda f**ked up, you know?

Thursday, November 14, 2002

In an hour.


Probably going to meet at the Maple Room. That's our bar of choice, or was, before all this happened. Going to be me, him, and her. All face to face. This isn't going to be pretty. There's going to be a lot of crying, a lot of tears, and a lot of pain. And I have to realize, have to admit, that this isn't going to be a happy ending that leaves a yellow brick road for her and I to be together forever.

Oh no. I'm not a negative guy. I'm a realist. And the cold, hard reality of my situation is that all of us, and I do mean all of us, him, her, and me, are really going to be hurt by the end of the night.

Welcome to the Reverend Steve story.

I'm a wreck. Cold. Shaking. Sick. Scared. Haven't had any food in my body all day and I've been drinking like a fish since yesterday, wince he called. I wish I could have been a big man, a brave man, and stood up to him, stood up for her. But I was scared. I ran. I was scared and I ran. I ran away. I hid in the record store and hid in the Wendy's and hid in the mall and went to the bars I've never told anyone I go to and got so drunk that I don't know how I drove home, no idea how or when i went to sleep.

Think I tried to drink myself to death last night and goddammit if I didn't get damm near close. I wasn't a man yesterday so I san away, disconnected my phone, and just took off.

I'm sorry, Col. I'm sorry baby. I'm sorry I ran.

But tonight. S**t, in less than an hour, I'm going out there and doing it. Being honest. Being me. Being Reverend f**king Steve. Trying to make up for last night, you know? Am I scared? You're goddamm right I'm scared. I'm shaking just typing this thing here in my kitchen. Feel like I;m going to vomit at any time. I'm scared. I'm scared to death and I don't want to do this.

And I know how stupid cliche crap this is going to sound, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do, that old line of how a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, you know?

I'm not a religious man. Shit, I have my own religion I created in 1996. But, seriously. If you can, pray for me.


Here's the story.

Fell in love with a girl. Isn't that how most stories start? Well, that's how almost all my stories start.

I fell in love with a girl, flirted with her, joked around her, hit on her fiercely. Then, a few weeks later, I learn she's married to a friend of mine. I distanced myself from her, you know? I didn't want to do bad against a friend.

But we become tight, this girl and me. We call. We talk. We joke and kid. Months pass and she's my best friend. My confidant. My closest friend. And as the months pass, her relationship, which wasn't steady to begin with, was faltering. And things started happening between us.

Now he knows. He says that he will leave us alone but that all he wants from me is he wants me to tell him the truth. He wants to talk. And I'm frightened all to hell. I'm scared. I'm sick. I'm vomiting. I'm not eating.

I am so frightened.

But I need to finish this.

Wednesday, November 13, 2002

Things do not bode well.

I know I've been treding on a thin line for the past while. My love life has been a joke, something very high level Jerry Springer-ian, you know? But last night apparently a lot of things went down and apparently while I was gone this Indiana Jones ball has been rolling and now I'm back and I have no idea what went on while I was away but apparently there are a lot of people out there right now that want to beat the living s**t out of me.

Gotta love California, huh?

A year ago I was in the heat and racism of Phoenix, Arizona, going to the local Bennigan's where I knew everybody, drinking my beers and hanging out with my small, tight-knit group of friends, and I had a fiance that loved me. Now I'm in California with a cell phone and a leather jacket and my love life is an appaling joke (make that a spectacularly appaling joke) and it seems as if a lot of my good friends want to beat me to a bloody pulp.

Apparently is the key word here. I love my mother but one thing she isn't is super smart. She kind of takes what happened and uses her wild mind to paint you a picture that's the worst thing ever. But I have a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't doing that this time.

I might just be in big f-en trouble here.

Tred all to hell

Got home around seven this morning. Decided to call in sick, not that I'm at all sick, but I'm somewhat running the risk of someone kicking my a** right now. So I'm just playing it safe, you know?

Just sitting here, listening to Howard Stern and making me some spaghetti and meatballs and drinking some beer and reflecting on the past night. A really good night. Went out. And I didn't drink. And I didn't get piss a** drunk. I spent the night with a woman I love. I just might find myself in trouble because of it, but that's something for the future. The present is all that's on my mind.

Don't find myself saying this a lot, especially since I moved here, but ... goddamm life is good.

Monday, November 11, 2002

Well, round one, I guess.

I'm here in Sacramento freezing my desert ass off. I'm eating a hamburger, bloody as hell, with barbeque sauce spilling everywhere. I want a cigarette bad but this is day three without one. No, I'm not quitting. I'm just seeing how long I can last, testing the waters, so to speak. And the Beatles are playing on the stereo. A damm fine day, so far.

I've got to jump in the shower. I don't want to, but I have to. Once I'm done with my shower I'm going to go get a drink with a good friend of mine who, coincidentally, might kick the living f**k out of me. He called a little while ago, sad, wanting to talk. He's a great friend, yes. He's an incredible friend and someone I've loved for a very long time. But he's also easily jealous and easily angered and maybe, just maybe, he might beat the living f**k out of me.

This just might end up ending badly, you know that?

Hope he doesn't kill me. I wanna watch "Raw" tonight.

I'm currently sober, which is a pretty big miracle.

Ever since I've moved from my lifetime state of Arizona into this cell phone hell hole, I've been pretty goddamm miserable. Drinking non-stop. Going to my stupid little karaoke bar with the same little crew. Singing the same small songs. Smoking up a storm. Trying to forget the friends I left and the chances I threw away. The fiance I hurt. The fiance that left me.

Funny, though. I think I might be in love. I think.

Don't be happy, though. There's more to this than just being in love. This is the beginning of a really bad time. There's probably going to be some violence. I might even have to defend myself. A lot of bad things are going to be said. A lot of drama, crying, agony, pain, suffering, name calling, back stabbing. Bad stuff like that.

Like in that movie The Godfather when the five families are going to war, right, they go to "the mattresses" they say, like, to hide out the war. Yeah, I'm about to hit the mattresses.

Will it be worth it?

Goddamm, I hope so.