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Wednesday, August 18, 2004

It's past one in the morning and I can't sleep.

MOOD: sorebittiredandbuzzed

BACKGROUND: old Newsradio eps.

I've been getting extremely depressed at work lately. I don't know why. I think it's because, working in the sort of detached children's area that I am the manager of, it can be very quiet and lonely working all alone in there. It can be sad and depressing sometimes and after lunch I get hit in the stomache with an all too familiar sense of sadness and loneliness and fear. It stinks. But today, perhaps in anticipation of going out with Natasha and our coolest friend Marisa, today was the least painful day I've had in a long time.

Emerald was yelling and screaming tonight. It was tough. Sometimes it's a good fatherly day and sometimes, like tonight, she won't want to leave her nana's house and scream until she gets sick. My daughter Emerald is incredibly sweet to me when no one's looking. As long as there is no one else around other than her and me, then she treats me like I am her best friend and her mom and her dad. It's amazing. She'll make me feed her. She'll cuddle with me. She'll sing songs about how much she loves me. She does, too. It's fun. We'll sit down and watch old Sifl & Olly episodes and Aqua Teen and Spongebob and we'll play and have fun. Really sweet but only occasionally.

Went to a party a few days ago. I thought that we were only going to stay "for an hour or two" but we ended up staying there for over seven hours, Tasha seriously getting her drink on and me alone in the house being all quiet and antisocial. The thing is, I'm quiet and shy around people that I don't know well so you throw me in a birthday party with a bunch of too-cool-for-school tattooed young people that I don't know and I'll just freeze up. I can talk to Ian and Marisa and Jessie and Gwen forever but I'm always shy and reserved around new people. So the bad time that I had cannot fully be attributed to Natasha. I just need to try to open up more.

I just, and I mean !JUST!, got an e-mail from my reporter friend in Premiere magazine. They were going to print an article on me in the October issue of Premiere and now it looks, last minute decision, they're pushing the article back to November. That hurts a bit. That hurts so much that I think I'm going to go have myself another beer. Thankfully, though, Stuart, the INCREDIBLY sexy-voiced writer for Rue Morgue magazine and now legally baptized Woodite, is still planning on running a major article on me and my religion in their October issue. That should actually be better off for me in the long run. This way, my web site won't freak out and crash when the two mags run articles about me at the exact same time. So, hey, smile and look happy.

If you or, let's get realistic here, ANYONE IN THE GODDAMN WORLD, actually LIKES what I write and how I write it, then go on down to Bowling for where I will soon, eventually, one of these days, when I get off my manic depressive, obsessive compulsive, skinny brown ass and do me some actual work for a change, be a contributer. One of these days. I totally promise.

Now don't get me wrong. My life is very good. I have a great new family, the all new Galindo Family, Version 1.0 featuring Reverend Steve, Woodian Angel Natasha, and introducing Emerald as the bah-bah! Natasha and I faced problems recently regarding things that I really can't talk about, but we've gone past them now and we're incredibly stronger and more secure in ourselves and in our love for one another.

And guess what> I can officially say that I actually have ONE FRIEND! Her name is Marisa and we go out and I lean on her, literally, and she has a wild and crazy life with washing machines and ponies and stalkers and sometimes she hugs me and sometimes she tells me bedtime stories. She is the best and I can honestly say that I love and care for her. I just hope I don't scare her away with my freaky Latino Heat.

And the "Second Coming of Wood" is almost upon us as well. The First Coming of Wood happened right before the end of the century when an article from the Associated Press led to me being interviewed in more than 30 radio stations all over the world. The highlights ... "Mancow's Morning Mayhem" is a dumb jackass and nothing more than a cheap Howard Stern wannabe. "The Mark and Brian Show" was great because they are INCREDIBLY friendly. was really nice, too, despite being a crappy internet radio station. And Buck Wolf with ABC News was and still IS the coolest man in New York City. That was fun. A lot of press all over Woodism and all over me. Cool stuff.

Now here I am, a twenty-seven year old skinny little Mexican guy with a girlfriend, a daughter, a cool and also occasionally depressing little job, and two articles about to me that are set to print in both Premiere magazine and Rue Morgue magazine. This is exciting and a little bit unnerving. Suddenly all these questions pop up. Will things change in my life? Will I change? Will my job remain the same? Will I ever have enough money to make my dream of regularly being able to afford eating at KFC come true? Will my damn brother ever drop off those season passes to the State Fair that got sent to his place? Will my shitty little '86 Mercedes ever stop acting like fucking Hitler and run for a change?

These are the questions facing me. They are pretty huge, confusing questions, ones that are so massive, so epic, that I can't even begin to think of answers.

1 comment:

Woodian Angel said...

I love you.