Please to note

I have updated eva8's link to go to Flickr instead of Flogger, since she recently told me that she doesn't flog as much as she flicks.

In other news - I had the apartment all to myself since Friday night. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful it was to go down stairs and find the food I had bought right where I had left it. I still spent most of the time in my room, it is where I am most comfortable so why not, right? I organized a bit, I listened to a bunch Penn Jillette radio archives, you can download them if you have iTunes and you can listen live on weekdays at 2pm E.T. (that's 11am for us on the west coast)here. You will have to register, so give yourself a few extra minutes to do so and to download the latest version of Windows Media Player. In fact, why don't you go do it now so you don't miss a second of it. I've met Penn of several occasions; at the Alex Bennett Show, on the street, and after the Penn and Teller stage shows, and I like him. I'm scared of him, but I do like him. He's an odd mixture of New England manners and balls to the wall, no holds barred, entertainer. As I was listening to one of the older shows - one of the ones from January - he made a point that summed it up for me about him. He said that he wouldn't do something because it was against his morals not because he thought he was going to be rewarded with an afterlife in heaven, but because he felt it was the right thing to do.

He said a mouthful. How many people do you know, do the right thing because it is the right thing and not because they might get caught and/or punished? I wish I had had the chance to talk to him more about things that weren't about the show. I never felt secure enough to reach outside the boundaries of our established roles of entertainer and fan. I'd like to go to Las Vegas now just to have the chance to talk to him.

The Pending Storm

I knew it would happen because he was still in love with her. I can't really understand why after what she did and how she treated him, but that's not my call to make. I can understand still being in love with the good parts of the relationship, that makes sense to me, what doesn't, is that he trusts her to bring those parts back.

I don't understand how he can put his faith in someone whose heartless actions made him want to die. She forced him to leave their apartment and move into a halfway house, she fucked another guy, (she claims that this was after they broke up, but it had to have been in the planning before, nothing is that convenient) then after saying that he could store his stuff in their apartment she threatened to throw it out if he didn't go and get it by a certain time. I don't know how he can forgive that. Granted I'm not a guy, I know guys have a different way of looking at situations; from what I understand it goes something like - will she touch it, will she touch it again, can I keep her touching it over and over?

And that's as far as it goes.

This weekend they are together, he's already talking about how often he can drive down to L.A. and how often he can fly her up here; what happened to taking it slow? I guess she touched it again.

I have never pretended to understand any of this, but one thing remains solid; I don't like her anymore, I don't trust her anymore, and I don't want to see her ever again. She hurt my friend, and I don't believe that she won't do it again. He might still be in love with her, but my attitude has changed. I'm scared for him but he is walking, eyes open, into the trap.

There's nothing I can do.

A lovely evening

I had dinner with my friend, Joe Something German, last night. We haven't seen each other in a long while. Sure we've done the email thing, but it's not the same, you know? I had a marvelous time, I hope Joe did too. It was great getting out of the house with someone who makes me laugh, and I can make laugh. He really is a great guy.

Update

I wrote several pages on the second Susan story and I'm pretty sure I know where I want to go from here.

Yay!

PS I still live with a booger head.

To get in the mood to write

I will write a little something here to get warmed up to fiction up some wordage.

Bad start.

Start again.

I don't remember the last time I wrote any fiction. It would have to be the notes I took after the night that I dreamed about the virus. What virus? you ask. See if I wrote it here, I would lose the need to write it anywhere else. One day it will be on line and I will remind both of you where to go to read it.

In other news; Sparkie has fallen off the edge of the world again. Went to Canada and came back (I assume he came back because I haven't heard from him) with no word or postcard to me. He has an oversized shirt and some yarn for me, and here I sit, shirt too tight and yarnless.

I really don't think I'm going to last the rest of the spring with this roommate. He drank my cooking wine -- Jesus! A week ago he asked if he could have some, I said sure. See, I forgot that he is a SELFISH person, but I didn't think he'd finish the bottle. I had only used about a half a cup to add some flavor to the Yankee Pot Roast I was making and he drank the rest! It only cost $3! It was yucky smelling and caused (what I called) stinky wine flies to gather. He seems to think that "having food on hand" for more than 3 weeks, means that he can have it. I told him that it belonged to the one who paid for it, but I'll bet he'll be eating all my canned food next. He has no food and somehow this is my problem. He spends all his money on beer, smokes, and cheap crazy women who bounce off the walls on the hallway outside my bedroom door at 4am and I'm supposed to feed him. I felt sorry for him for about a minute until I realized that its only a bad situation if its his bad situation, everyone else, including those of us who kept him from starving, can go fuck themselves. He had money last Wednesday, did he offer to pay me the money he owes me? No. Did he run out of money and decided that my apple juice is his for the taking. Yes. Why? Because, and I quote, he's "not going to live on water when there is apple juice in the freezer." The fact that its not his apple juice completely failed to show up on his radar. The whole time I've lived here he's never bought coffee or half and half but enjoys mine until its gone, then he waits till I buy some more.

So what do I do? Run out of money because I can't keep any food in the house because he's always eating it, and paying late fees in spite of the fact that I told him when we met to discuss becoming roommates that I didn't have any money until the second Wednesday of the month and he said that that was okay because he paid the rend late anyway and that in this same first meeting he told me that PG&E was only $20 a month now tells me that I should put $50 to $75 aside for this purpose.

This will turn ugly before its over.

1. I will be taking the $55 he owe me out of this coming month's rent.

2. I will not pay the late fee. If he expected me to pay more than $600 for rent then he should have told me that it was due by the 5th or I'd pay $25.

3. I will only pay $20 for PG&E, anything more and I will deduct it from the rent.

4. I will give notice and move. Back to Maine if I have to.

I'm no one's patsy, I will not be taken advantage of, I give people chances and he has used up his.

How Selfish Am I?

You Are 16% Selfish

In other words, you're a warm, caring considerate person. Just make sure to get your way sometimes. There's a fine line between unselfish and pushover.

How Selfish Are You?

BTW is anyone having problems posting comments? Email me if you are, eva8 isn't able to post and I wondered if it was an over all problem. Thanks.

Stray

Since moving to Concord I have been befriended by a stray cat. We call him Manny - which is short for Man Cat, because he hasn't been fixed. Manny is a snuggle monster; he likes to be cradled like a baby while he purrs and utters little half volumed "mow"s. His favorite thing to do is to lay so his belly is pressed against your belly then stretch himself up to rest his chin on your clavicle, purring but not talking. He rubs his face on your face and if you kiss the top of his head he'll press back like one kiss isn't enough. He's staying outside for now, but he's such a sweetie that I think we might take him to the SPCA to be fixed and checked out. He also needs a flea bath.

I sing to him: Oh, Manny boy, the cat, the cat, is pur-ur-ring. From nose to tail, he rumbles swe-ee-etly. Oh, Manny boy, oh Manny boy, I love you, so.

My Friend, Charles...

Has written a wonderful article on why he and his partner are moving to Canada. Read it and learn something.

I'm online again! Yay!

I'm so happy to be online again, I didn't remember how much I missed it when Melanie was in the shop and it was worse this time because I'm in a new apartment (it's a townhouse, actually) in a place where the buses don't run on Sundays, it's too hot most of the time, and there are mosquitos. I had forgotten the joys of mosquitos. I remember back in Maine there was a transition period where if you felt an itch you learned to slap it before you scratched because it was most likely a blood sucker that needed to be killed.

(Here's an odd memory; Tom used to wait for a mosquito to land on his arm then he would pull his skin taut on either side so the bug would fill up with so much blood it would explode.

Doesn't that sum up my step-brother to a t.)

I was so lonely without my web friends, I missed reading blogs and visiting my favorite sites. But now I'm back, on dial up for about 8 more days till the DSL is turned on, but at least I'm here.

Did you miss me?

Written May 1st, in order to try to understand

I hate this. I thought Lea sounded way to upset just because I left the place a mess.

Dan no longer trusts me and I don’t know what to do about it. He hasn’t known me long enough to know that I would never use a friend that way. I should have gotten a reply before I had the cable turned on, but, I was bored, my credit stinks, and since she had put the phone in her name without issue I just went ahead and had the cable put in her name. I should have asked her to do; if it’s okay, could you have the cable turned on? Instead of hiding the question in the middle of the email and then asking how she liked the way I ask for a favor.

How can one bad decision turn into a fucking shit storm? The way Dan is treating me I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted me to move out. I’m still a little high and I don’t like the way it feels anymore. I want to be able to focus so I can understand, but I think I already do understand. She hates me and I feel rotten because she must not have gotten the email or she did get the email and is giving me pay back for leaving the place a wreck. I didn’t leave holes in the walls or pull up the carpet, I ran out of time, Joe was pushing me to leave – I told him I wanted to clean the place before we left, but that wasn’t part of Joe’s schedule.

Honestly, that doesn’t sound like Lea. But then I didn’t think she’d team up with Noah to get me out of there, either.

At first I thought it read that all her mail should be sent here. “Why would her mail come here?” I asked.

“That’s a real good question,” Dan replied. He wouldn’t let me take the paper with me to call, so I had to come upstairs, get my phone, and address book and go back downstairs to call them.

I called the number on the copy of the form that had been sent to Dan, but it was after 7 and they had closed for the day. I tried twice just to make sure I understood the hours. Then I called Lea.

“Lea, it’s Rynn. Why did I get something in the mail saying something about forwarding mail to your name under my address?”

“Because you had the cable turned on in my name.”

“What? I emailed you and asked if it would be all right. … Hello?”

She had hung up on me.

I told Dan what happened and he pointed out that it was mail from this address, not to.

Now I know why she sounded so upset when I had called to apologize; she thinks I was scamming her. It really hurts me to think that she couldn’t trust me. After all her kindnesses it hurts to know that she could feel so coldly about me. All she had to do was communicate. And she didn’t. There was that short burst of emailing and commenting, but it was all in good fun. We bantered and it was done. I kept her informed as to what was happening with the apartment search as a friend, not as someone who I owed anything to, as far as I knew we were cool. Then I got that nasty email from Matthew, delivering ultimatums, “no more extensions, you have to be out of there by the 15th” I wondered why he was suddenly emailing me, it kinda pissed me off. I wrote him back and asked why he was writing me and not Lea, and said that Lea was my friend and I wouldn’t do any thing to hurt her. And come hell or high water I would be out of there on the 14th. I think I mentioned that I had rented the truck and had the help of a friend, although I might not have. He never mentioned the cable. Lea never mentioned the cable.

Not a phone call or email from her asking me what was going on with cable (I did receive one from her about the apartment hunt –how’s it going? - I think it read) but an all out paranoid shindig seemed like the right thing to do to her.

Or maybe it’s just easier for her to believe that I would do it, that way, she could institute a clean break from me, that way she wouldn’t have to remember that I’m alive.

I’ll admit to being melodramatic, but it fits the scale as to what I’m feeling. This is bad; this is call the shrink bad, this is make it dark I want to curl up bad.

One phone call from either of us, and all of this would have never happened.

If I felt rotten before I feel worse now. Sad. Angry. Depressed. Incredulous. Repeat.

Where’s Rynn? She’s out playing on the mood swings.

It took almost 3 years for me to believe that I’m a good person and moments to make me know that I’m not a good person.

I overstayed my welcome, I know this, but why did it have to come to this place? This makes me so unsure of everything. It’s kitchen sink time! Get yourself ready, every thing that you like about yourself is a lie – you are not a spiritual soul, you are not a good friend, you are not someone to be trusted, you are not someone who should be comfortable in their skin. Welcome to what I hate.

It’s all dashed, tromped on, and what it was when I was a teenager; that feeling that I deserve no better.

Some more moist blogs

Moist blogging, April 22, 2006 12:23pm

Rick was amazing as ever the other night, funny, loving, a joy to be around. Malow was there, too. I should have known that he was going to be there but I didn't think of it. He told he joke about being an astronomer on the day shift; "What is that, a cloud? Can I name it? Rynn." Made me feel even more special than I did already. Malow's that way, he always incorporates me into a joke if possible.

There was a super drunk chick in the front row who wouldn't shut up, and kept doing the hand sign for devil, it was embarrassing. When Malow got on stage he said, "Ma'am," four times and then said, "Listen, bitch." And it made her cry. Finally the bitch and her date were asked to leave. After the show Brian was standing by the door saying, "I'm sorry if I made you cry," to every woman as they left. It was very funny. There was even a batchlorette party in the back that was better behaved than the drunk chick down front.

Last night I caught my room mate taking a leak off the side of the patio. There's a WC, or half bath if you prefer, right off the living room. What the hell was he doing taking a piss out there? Does that strike anyone else as beyond white trash? He didn't see me so I backed up and re-entered the room talking loudly. He acted like there was nothing going on, so I let it drop - I don't know him well enough to confront him about "marking his territory."

I do have to say that he did come up, knock on my door and invited me down to the living room to smoke me out. I sat in the living room and he tried to explain everything about poker and golf while I quietly tried to make him stop. He just kept talking and talking and played some Black Sabbath trying to make me understand who he was and why there the video games he played were to teach him to become a better poker dealer and golfer. I tried to make jokes but he was intent on making sure I understood that it wasn't anything to joke about.

He has a video golf game and I asked what would happen if he hit the ball into the trees - I wanted to know how far the code writers had written off to the sides - he couldn't understand why I would want to screw up my score so badly just to find out - I couldn't understand why he wasn't curious. I used to do stuff like that when I played those old driving video games; how far off the road could I drive? What would happen if I just didn't leave the start of the race or stop in the middle. I even did that with an exercise bike that had video display - can I leave the trail, and if so could I just coast down a grassy hill and not pedal?

I don't know how this is going to work out; he tossed a CD at me last night, it didn't hit me but if it had it would have drawn blood. He said that he wasn't thinking and apologized but it seems to me, that if your gut reaction to showing someone a CD is to fling it at them across the room then you might have some issues.

I was tired anyway but the weed really knocked me for a loop so I came up stairs, locked my door, and went to sleep. He wanted to me to see Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, but I couldn't do it, he pouted about it, like he couldn't watch it if I wasn't there. I think I'm going to get a lock for my door, better than the one I have now. I'm also wondering if I might keep some of the boxes I emptied just in case I have to leave in a hurry.

I don't see how I can live here for very long, I've been here a week and I just want him to go out and not be here. I'm so not a good room mate. I'm so selfish about my privacy, I don't want to be part of a community, where there are house meetings and chore wheels, I want to be left alone.

I should be putting the rest of my stuff away rather than bitching about the fact that I have a place to live.


Moist Blogging April 28, 06

I lived in downtown San Francisco for about 20 years and I haven't seen as much drama in those years as I have in the two weeks since moving to this townhouse complex. There was a fist fight in the parking lot (it was out of sight around the garage but the indistinct shouts and sudden silences was worse than actually seeing it,) two visits to the next door neighbors from the Concord Police, my phone line, (which is active from the street, but not within the complex,) won't be active inside until Monday, and I realized last night that one of the many scraps of paper held in place on the refrigerator by one of the multiple magnates from the same pizza delivery place is an extensive AA meeting list put there by my "at the least a six pack a night" roommate.

I'm free floating, here. Every time I leave my room I feel like I'm entering a forbidden zone; like I have to tread softly. I'm so used to living alone having a roommate is like having a jailer. I feel guilty for turning on the air conditioning when my room is like an oven. My things are pushed aside and put in the bottom of inconvenient cabinets, when I ask for something to be left where it is, I come back to find it has been put on a high shelf, out of my reach. I don't know how to communicate any better than that. I just want some respect, but it's hard to know how to ask for it when I'm being laughed at and treated like a "dumb girl." Maybe it's the attitude of the place, I get the idea that this is a red neck town. There's only one bus that runs on this street, on Saturdays it runs about every 2 hours and it doesn't run on Sundays.

"Have a car or walk your ass," the city of Concord seems to be saying.

I still have unpacking to do, which I should be doing now instead of bitching and moaning on a blog entry that I can't even post.

Shit.