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Wednesday, December 18, 2002

It's the little things that I'm not exactly used to yet over here in Cali.

MOOD: happy and skittish


Seeing seagulls still freaks me out sometimes. Most times. And the condensation blanketing the windows in the morning, too. And the fog like stringy cotton covering everything everywhere. And the snow on the faraway mountaintops. The squirrels everywhere, like they're planning something. And the constant, nonstop pissing rain for days and days. All of it a constant reminder that I'm not living in Arizona anymore.

Got two days off. Nice. Sitting here, wasting the minutes, downloading all the Sixty Watt Shaman and Against All Authority songs I can get my mouse on, cooking up hamburgers, drinking too much coffee, and waiting for the sun to peak through the dark rain clouds. Thinking.

Lost in my thoughts of the past, of all those mistakes I've made that have turned women away from me. Missed opportunities and lost chances all floating around me, taunting me from the sidelines. Horrible "what if" questions that go nowhere and do nothing more than slow me down, keep me stuck in this subconscious quicksand I seem to be in.

My brother, who, since giving up drinking has become a timid, passive little pussy (no longer will I edit myself ... fuck fuck fuck), and my manic depressive mother, went out this morning to go see the new Lord of the CGI Special Effects movie and I declined, opting for sleep and internet porn instead of three hours of overly done computer effects and "Agragon, son of Herbevore, brother of the mightly Jaberwok of Septavon, who slayed the mighty Roother of Dragnor, who once ate the fearsome Diskothio ofWeston, the man who once drank the deadly Fructose of Phosphoric, who once took under him the mighty Brestgragoriam of ..." and so on and so forth.

Sorry. That's just the way I feel.

I know that this isn't a popular viewpoint right now, what with Tolkein now becomming a really cool, hip sort of thing, but when I saw the first film, I felt a subconscious cultural need to like the film, almost as if I had to, that the acting and the script and the special effects and the cast and everything all formed this quiet whisper, saying, in some sort of Hitler German accent, "You will love this movie. You cannot resist this movie. There is nothing wrong with this movie. You will not criticize this movie. You will buy all sixty seven versions of the trade paperback." Does that make any sense at all?

It's like back when everybody and their goddamm grandmother spent every waking hour of the day pissing me off by saying "OOH! Blah blah blah 'Sixth Sense' blah blah blah blah 'Sixth Sense' blah blah blah 'twist ending' blah blah blah ..." until finally I just started lying and telling people I'd seen it and thought it was freakin' great. Did the same damm thing with Swingers, too. I thought the movie was good, you know, but the original Rings novels were such classic, landmark novels that the plot and the structure of the film I've already seen in Star Wars and the Wheel of Time and those Shanarra books.


I know that must paint me as incredibly ignorant, but I never said I was a super smart guy.

Well, day twenty of cold sober sobriety is now upon me. And It's been over a week of not smoking. And let me tell you something, I've drank heavily for the past five years, drinking almost every night to frightening amounts of excess. Five years of hardcore drinking nonstop. And even though at most I smoked four or six cigarettes a day AT MOST, the quitting smoking part is a million times worse than quitting drinking. A million times worse.

But it's my pride that keeps me here, keeps me going, my pride and my shot to shit male ego.

I'm proud of myself right now. I'm really becoming someone different, someone new. I'm down to 132 lbs. No smoking. No drinking. And I'm a monk now, taking some time to spend time rebuilding myself instead of chasing tail around. There's Collyne, who loves me and wants me but wants to be single. There's Casey, who wants me but is already taken. There's Bobbie, who seems to have become my new best friend, the girl who everyone wants. And I'm sick of women. No offense to any women out there but ever since I've moved to Sactown I've been given the run around by a handful of women from seventeen years old all the way to thirty nine years old, all these women doing ring around the rosie with me, and now all I want is a rest, you know? A rest from it all, a rest from trying.

And that's what I'm going to do. Sit here, watch television, and try to remember who I used to be.

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