pissshiver

Recent Hits, Bill Hicks, A Day With The Girl

05.29.06 (9:57 pm) [edit]
"The world is like a ride at an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it, you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills and it's very brightly coloured and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question: Is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, they say, 'Hey – don't worry, don't be afraid ever, because this is just a ride ...' And we ... kill those people. Ha ha, 'Shut him up. We have a lot invested in this ride. Shut him up. Look at my furrows of worry. Look at my big bank account and my family. This just has to be real.' It's just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok. But it doesn't matter, because – it's just a ride. And we can change it anytime we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money. A choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one. Here's what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defenses each year and instead spend it feeding and clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would pay for many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace. - Bill Hicks

Somebody hit my blog doing a Google search for:

cornholing in the back seat

I'm extremely proud right now.

Given other hits I've seen, somebody has been linking to my blog from theirs. So, hi! How ya doin' out there?

Katie and I went to the Taste Of Cincinnati today. Lots of local restaraunts with booths set up to overcharge you for their food. I spent 10 bucks over the minimal food budget I'd allocated for the entire day within one hour. But I had two kinds of gumbo (neither better than MINE, which fuckin' rocks, I tell you) a Thai spring roll, and some deep-fried pickles. (Yes, I have more than a little redneck in me.)

Katie had a slice of pizza. We shared a frozen lemonade, and I somehow managed to survive without buying an overpriced beer. I also saw BOTTLED WATER for $3.25. I don't know what yuppie cocksucker came up with this bottled water shit, but I'd like to buy stock in that idiocy, because I'd rather DRINK MY OWN GUINNESS AND PORK FRITTER-LACED PISS than spend that much fucking money on a bottle of water that some fucker in Pittsburg has been pouring from his bathtub tap for the goddamn Dasani company. FUCK bottled water in its crystal clear asshole.

I've given up on writing down the amazing things Katie says each time I visit her. I can't keep up with them. I think I'm not giving her enough credit- she quite clearly has proven herself far smarter than I've ever began to give ANY five-year old credit for.

She dropped a couple hints about our situation today, about me not living with her anymore. But there was little trace of sadness. She seems resigned to it, and she seems to have decided to accept things. She's happy I'm coming back to be closer to her. That appears to be good enough for her now.

I hate that she already has to compromise her desires at age five, but that's reality. She's coping better than I am already.

Three weeks. I can't fucking wait. I had a long talk with the singer and his wife on the way to yesterday's gig, and I feel better about the band now. They know where me and M are coming from. We're never going to do better in northern Indiana than we are now. M has training that is far beyond what he's doing right now. And me...I just need to be closer to Katie. They understand. It sucks for all of us. I've known these guys for 14 fucking years now. But there is no choice. M has to finally get the fuck of of Shitsburg, Indiana and do what he wants to do, and I have to...whatever the fuck I'm doing now. I barely even know myself. I just know it's closer to my daughter. That's all I NEED to know. Everything else will either fall into place, or not. Fuck it, anyway. I feel lucky right now. I explained to them how I've managed to fall farther and farther behind on my bills in the past year, and they know that I need to go back to Cincy as much for money reasons as anything else. But really, I'm fucking lucky. The amount of money I owe isn't SHIT compared to most people my age with multiple children and mortgages. A year ago, my cash flow was a source of Eternal Torture And Damnation to me. Right now, it barely means a fucking thing. All I want is to get into my own place within a month or so after moving my shit down to Bill's. Nothing else means a goddamn thing right now.

The glorious side benefit of going downtown to eat overpriced food outdoors today was getting to witness the scores of EDIBLE YOUNG LADIES that were seemingly EVERY-FUCK-WHERE.

I nearly broke my neck turning my head to follow one particularly MUNCHABLE young blonde when a familiar voice was heard at waist level.

"She's really pretty, isn't she, daddy?"

Fucking hell.

"Yes, honey,. She is. But you know what? I'm with the prettiest girl in town."

And that, my friends, is no bullshit.

Love,
Dougie

10 Comments

The Most Beautiful Of All Creations

05.29.06 (12:10 am) [edit]
I've become increasingly non-religious over the years, more and more skeptical, more and more cynical about religion in general.

But sometimes you see something that makes you think "Wow. Somebody took a long time making that, crafting every single inch, turning it into capital-fuckin'-A Art."

That's how I feel when I see a beautiful pregnant woman. She so often can seem so...perfectly designed...

We sweated out nards off at the outside gig today. Hotter than the nutsack on a tropical fuckmonkey. A couple in their '50s had just renewed their vows (they'd been married for 12 years) and threw a party for themselves. The woman was still fairly attractive for her age, beautiful thick curly blonde hair and an athletic figure. The guy had a big redneck beer-gut and looked like Howard Kaylan. So I had a good chuckle while singing Happy Together.

There was a girl there, probably mid-20s. i assumed it was one of their daughters from a previous amrriage. Blonde/red hair. Barefoot with shorts, beautiful light-skin. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off her, particualrly her lovely face (a mix of softness and an edge) and her killer legs.

She went in to change right before we started playing. She came back out in a cute one-piece blue thing that sort of looked like a swimsuit but wasn't. It was tighter on her, and revealed...

...the perfectly designed curves of a pregnant woman just beginning to "show."

She seemed to barely even notice us, but I played to her the whole gig. At first it felt like a "please notice me" message coming out of myself through my bass. Eventually it turned into somethng more raw, less inhibired. I can't explain the almost overwhelmingly intense attraction I sometimes feel to women who I already find beautiful who are also expecting. I have no idea how many men share this kind of attraction. i figure most of my sexual desires are not really any different than most guys. But I know a lot of men pretty much shut down when they see a pregnant girl, and I really do NOT understand that. I guess that's me, though.

I began to feel that I was trying to empty every last drop of my desire for this woman through my instrument.

And came to re-examine a fundamental problem in my approach to my life in the past year. I hav eto face that one down sometimes. Today was a big example.

I so often get caught up in this ridiculous quest for the closeness of a woman, and then I throw myself off it, declaring it to be a distraction to what I SHOULD be doing. I SHOULD be making every opportunity to make music. That's what I TELL myself I "should" be doing instead of constantly being bogged down by this seemingly endless quest for, as Ted Nugent once so eloquently put it, "wang dang, sweet poontang."

It's more interesting when you can have both. I'm not sure HOW to have both, I've never figured out how to split my concentration the way I feel I need to to have both. But when I feel all the desire, all the lust, all the love, all the good, all the bad, all THAT shit vibrating through the strings as I play this music that I don't even take all that seriously for the most part, I think again how much I WANT both.

I think she barely noticed me. For my part, I had to deal with both the insane amount of sexual energy eating my brain, and simply wanting to LOOK at this incredible, beautiful testament to ART IN HUMAN FORM.

There are few things on this planet more beautiful than her. At least that's how I felt in that moment. I only wish I could have said that to her. As it was, I kept my distance. I'm pretty sure the stupid-looking bastard she mostly talked to was her man. So I also had to deal with that more evil side of myself. The part that just wanted to walk up to this slack-jawed motherfucker (literally) and repeatedly beat him over the head with a heavy object until he fell to the ground and never got back up.

What IS that shit? I don't enjoy feeling like that. Jealousy is one thing. Wanting to pound some asshole in the face simply because he gets to fuck somebody you want to fuck - that's pretty fucked-up.

So I pulled my attention back to her. God, those curves. Those legs. Those eyes. I wish I was a painter. The amount of time I'd spend re-creating that picture burning into my eyes would be nothing like the time Some God Guy I Don't Even Believe In must have put into creating her.

OK, enough of that shit.

The funny story now.

After we were done, another woman came up and was talking to us. Around 40. Big-boned lady with a dark tan, big fat fucking tits about to fall out her shirt. Not amazing to look at, but definitely not bad. And very nice, very cool. I'll call her C.

I went into the hosue (we played on this guy's back deck) to use the bathroom. I turned the knob on the unlocked door just into time to see C standing up from the toilet, pants down, shirt off.

She was laughing as I quickly shut the door and yelled "Sorry!" I kinda wish I'd said "Sorry! Sorry, Mr. Gumby! I hit me head on the cupboard!" but I wasn't that quick. Besides...holy shit...

I saw her from behind, also the side as she turned to the door when I opened it, exposing one HUGE tit. My God, it's full of stars!

KILLER ass. Her ass was nearly as tan as the rest of her, and so were her tits, which tells me she lays out naked. Big brown nipples. I only saw this for a second, but I got TOTALLY distracted from thinking about the pregnant girl and spent ten minutes wishing I had some place to jerk off so i could think about bending this other woman over and taking her from behind. Jesus Fucking Christ. Big round ass. Tits that...didn't Yuri Gagarin go to space in one of those???

She came back out with a nervous laugh, and walked right past me. Five minutes later she walked up behind me and said "So, did you enjoy the view?"

"Uh...yeah." I'm so articulate.

She laughed (the laugh saying "I find it quite amusing that you cna't think of anything else to say, which tells me you really want to fuck my brains out, don't you?") and patted me on the shoulder. "I guess that was your bonus pay for the gig." Another laugh, a big smile, and she walked off to her car.

Too bad I rode up with the singer. I might have tried to talk her into staying longer...

I love rock & roll.

Love,
Dougie

4 Comments

Pretend

05.28.06 (11:06 pm) [edit]
From the King's X album Dogman:

you took away from me I tried to get it back
and if you lie to me I keep it to myself
a trick or treat but then that don't make it right
I can't remember when I could say goodnight
then something comes into my head and then a change
I work it out somehow I guess I've got my ways
but then I wonder how did I get it wrong
it doesn't matter now.

I pretend.

I take the longest walks they always do me good
I just indulge myself in sorrow singing blues
but then I have to laugh cause it's an outlet too
and if I add it all it still just wouldn't do
I've come to realize there's nothing I can lose
so I control myself nothing else to do
I'll just remember when it comes around again
I'd rather be alone I won't get hurt again

I pretend.

then something comes into my head and then a change
I work it out somehow I guess I've got my ways
I take the longest walks it always does me good
I just control myself.

I pretend.

Welcome Back My Friends To The Show That Never Ends

05.28.06 (1:49 am) [edit]
Funny gig tonight. The singer slowly got himself into a "fuck the audience" attitude, and once nearly everyone bailed after the club's nightly drawing (some lucky fuck won $1700 tonight) and we were left with a total of five people in the audience (all family members of the singer) we pretty much forgot about being nice and played all our most aggressive stuff.

Of course, we're so fucking tame these days that "aggressive" means Beds Are Burning and Roadhouse Blues, but what the fuck. We DID beat the living shit out of them, and I convinced them to pull back out BOC's Burnin' For You, which we hadn't played in months. Once we got past fucking the intro up all to hell, it was pretty damn good.

I can judge how good I'm doing physically and emotionally these days from the quality of my singing. I've struggled with it for years, this band was the first place I ever really tried to work on singing at all, and the fucking TORTURE I went through a few years ago when I was constantly sick and had my tonsils out had me convinced I'd never wnat to get in front of a microphone again.

The past year has healed all that. I finally feel really good about singing, and I know I'm in a good place in my head when I can sing as well as I did tonight. I got one hell of a good reaction to my solo version of Rockin' In The Free World, and I fucking deserved it. I put so much of myself into that one song, I could barely walk after I was done. My back is fucking KILLING me right now.

I was shocked and quite happy to find out that they not only have decided to go on without me and M, they already have a bass player lined up and possibly a guitarist with vocal and keyboard ability. M and I both immediately offered our help to whoever replaces us in learning the material. I kinda expected the atmosphere to be a bit weird tonight, but it wasn't at all. We had a damn good time.

Looks like we're not cancelling any June gigs after all, the thing M has to do has been moved up to the beginning of July. We have a gig on the 8th. Nobody seems concerned abotu cancelling that pareticular one (I'll be coming up from Cincy at that point, so I don't give a shit one way or the other) but we might have a gutiarist ready to fill in by then. Gonna be an interesting few months riding out the end of this band.

The stuff I intended to take to Cincy yesterday was still in the van, so I shoved my gear in with it and brought it up here to my parents. I'll load more stuff up tomorrow for Cincy. So not only did I get a less crazy weekend, I saved myself another trip in moving my shit. There's only a few more opportunities, and I still have plenty to move.

Tomorrow's private party gig should get out early enough to put me back in Indy by 10PM. Looks like next week's might even be early enough to get me back in town by 7:00. A nice extra bonus, though next weeks is a significant cut in pay. They're going to feed us very well, though, so I'm not too bothered by it.

Watching the singer's nieces dance is always a treat. One of them (who turns out to be a few years younger than I thought, she's our guitarist's age) is very pretty, but mostly she just looks so FUCKABLE out there. Damn, that girl can MOVE that ass.

Before I came up today, I listened to Why Dontcha, the first album by West, Bruce, & Laing. I rave about Jack Bruce's bass playing all the time, but this album (essentially making him a member of Mountain) has to be his best studio work. I love his studio playing with Cream, but it was the live stuff where he really tore it up. On Why Dontcha, though, all that nasty fuzztone and all those crazed slides and adrenaline-fueled obnoxo-fills are on full display. The outro on their version of the old blues classic Third Degree has to be as pure of an example of what I wish I could get away with in a band as exists on any recording. LUDICROUS tone, completely over-the-top "check out the size of my balls" playing. Gawd bless you, Jack Bruce. Thanks to you, I'm virtually unemployable outside this band. LOL.

I'm utterly fuck tired. sleep well, motherfuckers.

Love,
Dougie

Shine, Proud Traveler, Shine

05.27.06 (12:28 pm) [edit]
"Ride dark stallion ride!
(Hey holy potion)
Find a faithful moment inside!
(campfire riverside starshine)
Alleviate the pain in your soul
Obliterate the pain in your soul"
- Mike Keneally

I hope this is the last substantial bit of writing I do about her.

Did my own drunken Michael Moore film festival last night. Four cans of Steel Reserve and two DVDs. Bowling For Columbine, Farenheit 9/11. I don't do that kind of thing nearly enough anymore.

I was up until 2AM. So I knew I'd be getting out of town late, what with all the shit I still have to do, so I went up to have lunch early and come back home to get ready. Go see her, Doug. Get it over with.

She looked a bit more tan than normal. Apparantly she spent much of yesterday at the track (I think the 500 is really only there so that half the city can go get drunk outdoors all at the same time for a whole weekend) with her ex. I wished her well. She said she's not getting her hopes up too high, but she wants to try one more time. Good for her.

She said her legs were hurting from yesterday. "Well, if you need a good long leg massage, you have my number." I gave her my best "and I'll make you come too if you want" smile. She laughed, her eyes lighting up the way they always do. I love making her laugh.

I enjoyed my coffee and realized something very good - nothing has changed. It IS good. We're back to where we started, just some goofball coming in and flirting around with her once a week, maybe a bit more depth to the conversation for a minute or two, nothing more.

And that's fine with me. I lost nothing. I gained another view into a part of myself, I gained emotional experience.

And a friend. I'm glad Amanda is my friend.

Seal it up. Closure. Time to move forward again.

So, anybody know any barely legal teens who want to fuck fat hairy 30-something bass players? LOL.

I think I'll do Rockin' In the Free World for the solo part of the gig tonight. Been a while. Moore's use of that song over the F9/11 end credits inspired me to think about it again. And hey, it's Neil Fuckin' Young. I never tire of him, or of playing his stuff.

A tinge of sadness when I left Steak & Shake, probably to be expected, but I dropped Wooden Smoke into the tape deck (I'm wearing the shirt now too) and Keneally brought me back to myself on the drive home. Sometimes I feel this convoluted web of emotions I go through daily as a curse, but when I can step back for a bit, I realize it's forming a lifework, a tapestry, a...uh...something else I can't write about without sounding extraordinarilly cheesy and pretentious. Shit. Ahh, fuck it. You know what I mean.

Hee.

Love,
Dougie

Yep, It's Doing It To Me Again

05.26.06 (6:30 pm) [edit]
"Her legs went on forever, like staring at infinity."
- Ian Anderson

Dollar store. A couple fairly frightening women running the registers. No sign of H. Probably for the best there. I was almost glad not to see her, and have my brain scrambled THAT way. I'm loading up on energy drinks, food, cheap imitation Icy Hot, etc. I walk around a corner.

The model-chick. I finally saw her name tag. We'll call her J.

She smiled her odd but beautiful smile (she looks halfway between friendly and pissed off, but she's never less than stunning) and said "Hey, where have you been?"

Wow. She missed me.

"Well, where have YOU been? This is my third time here this week. Haven't seen you in a long time."

We talked for ten minutes as she stocked the shelves. The whole thing was surreal. I definitely have a better picture of her personality. She's a lot more interesting and nice than I thought she was, but there's still this weird vibe she puts off that i can't quite put a finger on. It's like she's fighting a tendency in herself to be an arrogant bitch. She kinda comes off like that. "I'm a fucking babe and you peons should bow before me." But she also doesn't. She's really very nice. But it seems like she has to work at it. I suppose talking to me is some kind of practice.

When she talks about the few modelling gigs she's done, there's an obvious pride there, and it's interesting to see her talk about it. She DESERVES to be proud. She actually WAS on the cover of a magazine (a local one) once, and she's obviously a knockout. But the way she seems to be trying to temper that with whatever humility she can bring out of herself is strange to witness.

She nearly fell over when I showed her Katie's picture. Further proof of how beautiful my girl is. Even the knockout model babe had her mouth hanging open. "Wow. She is SO pretty!"

"And she's a great kid. I'm a lucky Dad."

"She looks like you." I hear that a lot. And I always have the same reply. It's really how I feel.

"Yeah, except she's CUTE. She got all those genes from my ugly ass and made them beautiful somehow."

"Oh stop it, you aren't ugly."

"Ehhh, you're just being nice to me now." Big grin.

"You aren't."

"Thank you. And you...you are incredibly beautiful. Yeah, I know, I've said that three times already."

I had, too. She'd told me about modeling, about how her boyfriend is off at the track this weekend at the race while she works. She thinks he's going to be around too many other women and cheat on her. He's with a friend of his she also used to date and "I KNOW how he is."

I cannot possibly imagine having the TIME to cheat on her. I'd be too busy licking every single inch of her to be ABLE to look at another woman.

I found some lame-ass watered-down way of saying that. She only smiled. But it was a funny smile. Yeah, she knows she's hot. She likes having her ego worked on. I'm happy to do it for her. Shit, she's making MY ego do fucking circles in my brain just by TALKING to me.

Which is what scares me. That I can stand there and think, "Oh my fuck, this amazing creature is TALKING to me. A beautiful woman is TALKING to me???"

I can't believe how easy it is for me to turn into a drooling idiot. How quickly my brain-chemicals can be scrambled by a beautiful woman. And J is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL. What's more is that it's a somewhat unusual beauty, she really has an amazing natural thing all her own. But that weird vibe is part of it too. That half-pissed look on her otherwise incredible face. I don't know how else to describe it.

I was a goddamn wreck for an hour after I left. I realized at one point that all I wanted to do was fall to my knees and beg her to fuck me, and I realized how fucking STUPID that is at the same time that I actually LIKE feeling that way. I loved the way she made me feel. Standing there talking to me like an old friend for ten minutes, laughing at my stupid jokes, obviously appreciating the attention, and not giving me ONE tiny shard of "get away from me you repulsive animal" vibe.

I need that shit. I don't need the STUPIDITY that seems to rush up like a tidal wave in my head whenever it happens, but I need to know that a beautiful woman enjoys my company for a while. If only that.

My own ego is a goddamn mess, and sometimes I feel I'm no closer to making that better than I was a year ago. But I suppose that's bullshit, because I CAN feel something happening. I've always HATED myself. I've always expected women to do their best to get the fuck away from me. I expect myself to collapse into a drooling psychotic mess and make a complete SHITHEAD of myself.

And while I've definitely still felt on the edge of that, it's not really happened in a while. I know I pretty much lost the game with Jenny last fall. I know I looked like a moron to her. But since then I've managed to survive pretty well, I think.

Why the fuck is that shit still so much in control of me? I'm 36, for fuck's sake, and I'm still controlled by this shit from as far back as I can remember - that I can't do anything right, that I'm a total fuckup, that I'll never amount to jack-shit so why even try? That's all BULLSHIT. I KNOW it is. But I still can't shake it off. It's been proven wrong enough times that I should be able to shake it off by now.

I think the only way is to keep doing what I did today. Keep pushing the envelope. It's a gigantic thing for my pathetic ego to simply TALK to a woman I feel that kind of attraction towards for ten minutes and keep some level of sanity. And I'm finally getting almost GOOD at it. The only way to get better is to keep doing it.

And I want to believe it will pay off. I don't know why it shouldn't. It might take a while. But it seems that whenever I feel the shittiest about myself and my abilities with women, I see some goofy-looking fucker with a GODDESS of a woman. And I think, yeah. It CAN happen. Maybe those goofy fuckers were just like me, and when they finally got over all the internal horseshit, they scored in a big way.

I hate being controlled by my dick. I've written enough about that for some time now. But I deal with it every fucking day, and I'm sick of it. i've got SHIT TO DO. But at the same time, I recognize that if I want it so goddamn badly, I'm going to have to keep trying to get it. Otherwise I'll just be pissed at myself all the time.

I've gotta find some kind of balance here.

I've given up on Amanda. I'll still go see her, I'm going to tomorrow on the way to the gig, but I no longer expect a fucking thing. And to be honest, it's because she's given me no reason to. I don't mean that in a bad way per se, I know enough about her to know she has her own shit to deal with, and I doubt she's trying in any way to fuck with me, but the fact is, I'm sick of her not giving me an INCH into how she actually feels about me unless I shock it out of her. I can't ASK her. I have to SAY stuff. Like "I'm moving away." Or "God, you are so beautiful." If I catch her off guard, I can get something out of her. But her guard is up nearly all the time, and she won't tell me SHIT on her own volition. I'm tired of that. I don't enjoy dealing with women who can't deal with their own emotions, who refuse to express them in any real way. I don't expect them to wear their heart on their sleeve in the ridiculous way I seem to be cursed to have to do, but for fuck's sake, stop shutting down and shoving me out when I'm simply trying to get some kind of gauge on where you're at. I know it's a pain in the ass and I'm supposed to just KNOW how you feel, but I'm MALE, and I have a DICK, and that means I'm CLUELESS ABOUT YOU. Work with me here. I've given you cards and notes, I've told you that you look great, i've tried to be sympathetic when you've needed it, I've done every thing I can to give you space and time and not be an overbearing asshole. *I* have done good. You aren't doing SHIT.

I told Amanda the other night that I wanted simply to talk to her again, but I don't think I have anything to really say now. I'm all out of energy on this cause. I've scraped the bottom of the fucking barrel. I've done a damn good job of proper editing and taking my time with her, but she knows where I'm at.

And I suppose when I take a moment to look around, I know where she is too. Not with me. I finally know that she's liked me this whole time, but apparantly not enough. I've done my damndest to be as selfless as I can be (which might not be saying a lot, but goddammmit, i've tried) and she...she hasn't. As cool as she is, as friendly as she is, as much as she gets that frisky little twinkle in her eye, and as much fun as she is to flirt around with, she hasn't given a fucking inch and shows no sign of doing so.

So fuck it. I'm not done being whatever kind of friend I am and have been, because I do still like her a hell of a lot and have no real reason not to go in there and see her sometimes still, but I'm done caring what she thinks about me. Well, mostly. Let's be honest here, asshole.

But it doesn't matter. Whatever happens happens.

I'm shifting my attention elsewhere. I'm not even going to be living here in three weeks. But I do think I'll have some fun playing around with J now that I've got to know her a bit. I have no illusions on that one - I see no reason to expect it to go ANYWHERE - but for the next three weeks, I'll hope she's in there and get my little ego-boosts from her, give some back to her as well. It's pretty remarkable to me that a woman like her actually seems to derive some ego-energy from anything *I* could offer, but it was right there in front of my face today. Wow. I beat the FUCK out of myself constantly feeling like utter shit, and here's an insanely lovely woman who likes to talk to me.

Change of weekend plans. Since I'm so utterly fucking observant, it had not occured to me that I'm not working Monday. Memorial Day. Duh.

So instead of rushing like a loon to Cincy tonight to dump stuff at Bill's and spend a couple hours with Katie, I'm staying home and working on packing stuff, and I'll go spend a whole day with her Monday. Seems to work out good for Sheryl too. Yay! A much more relaxed weekend than I'd expected. A very good thing.

I've managed to type some shit out of myself. Severe sexual frustration. I was feeling it hugely after I left J, and I was borderline psychotic for a while, and even when I started typing this I felt pulled in 76 directions. I'm more relaxed now. I'm glad you fine folk enjoy reading this shit. it's pretty much therapy for me.

Of course, my dick will likely go bugshit on me again by the end of the night. It's quite DEPENDABLE that way. The rotten fucker.

Love,
Dougie

About Time For Me To Buy That $300 Knife

05.26.06 (12:58 am) [edit]
Fucking kids get all the luck.

Since I moved the washer and dryer to Bill's last week, I had to do my laundry tonight at the apartment's laundry room.

When I took it down there, there were three teenage boys in black, fucking around chasing each other between cars. Whatever the fuck that was about.

I forgot the detergent, and went back to get it. When I walked back to the laundry room, one of the boys (I figure driving age, not much morE) was out on his cell phone. Talking to a girl. I onyl caught part of it on the way in and out, but this is about what I heard:

"I've been trying to call you all night, bitch. Where the fuck have you been? Gina told me you sucked that guy's dick. Real proud of yourself, aren't you, bitch?"

It went on like that. Obviously, somebody's pissed. The whole tone of his voice made me feel rather non-sorry for him. The not-so-subtle message was "I OWN you, you fucking whore." Arrogant piece of shit. I hope she took the other guy's dick in her ass too. Fucking little punkass. I wanted to punch him.

Then I came back and wrote my last post.

I just went to get my laundry. As I walked by, there were maybe ten high school kids outside an apartment. With his back to the fence, there was the shithead from the cell phone call. There was a girl on her knees in front of him with dark hair. The other kids (mostly boys, maybe four girls) were laughing their asses off and chanting "Suck it! Suck it!" It's 1AM here. They'll be lucky not to get cops called on their asses.

The girl doing all the work was RAMMING HER HEAD LIKE SHE WAS TRYING TO BREAK DOWN THE DOOR TO HIS CROTCH.

Lucky sonofabitch.

Now, I'd like to be in the position to become all Republican and offer some Moral Judgement here, but unfortunately, I have to deal with MY reaction, which was "Fucking asshole. I oughta chop your nuts off for getting blown by some sweet young thing when I'm not."

In other words, I'm as much of an asshole as he is.

Fucking hell.

The kids saw me (I was only 20 yards away) and only slightly hesitated. the kid getting blown didn't notice, he was too busy with Hoover-Lady. I looked at the other kids and said "I hope this is the line for some of that."

They thought that was funny. Well, most of them. One of the girls (who I seriously doubt was legal, I'm pretty sure the others were) looked at me as if I was King Asshole Himself. Yeah, good for you. Get your friend off her knees and get back to me later with your moral superiority, you little cunt.

I came back home.

why am I not asleep right now?

Dougie

Death To My Penis! Death, I Say!

05.26.06 (12:05 am) [edit]
"Mmmph, mmmph, grrrrn."
- Some chick in a porn movie I was beating off to earlier today

It only ever gets me in trouble. Here's five examples:

1.) Last night, the Terri Hatcher-alike mom of one of my students. She came in wearing shorts. With legs that...oh fuck...please wrap those around my head and let me facially explore your nether regions, you beautiful, goddess-like creature. I somehow keep it together around her most of the time. I think I nearly snapped last night. A quick half-smile as she was turning around to walk out the door told me she noticed. Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

2.) At the dollar store buying energy drinks and canned fish. Didn't see who I wanted to see. But a girl gets behind me in line. Nice fiugre, long dirty-blonde hair. Pouty lips. The sort of eyes you only see on girls who...uh...please tell me you're at least 17. Please. Lie to me if you have to. Tell me you're 17 before SATAN EATS MY BRAIN!!! WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!! !
Holy fucking shit. Hell - a place where I will someday lay my head and call home.

3.) The call to Amanda last night. If that ain't proof of what happens when your dick makes an unholy alliance with your heart, I don't know what the fuck is. I was going to say something like "the proof is in the pudding", but that...oh, never mind...

4.) I'm the only guy at my end of the department at the new job. Said job actually being quite tolerable, by the way. Certainly a big step up on the last piece of shit job. There's women all around, but only two I care to look at. And, of course, they are both SUPERVISORS.

Goddammit, this always happens to me.

Neither are knockouts, just quite nice. One has striking blonde hair, a somewhat athletic figure. Kinda plain, but not bad at all.

The other is clearly ten years older than me, and I don't mind one bit. Long straight dark brown hair. A lovely smile, which she usually has on, because she's a really friendly and pleasant woman, great sense of humour. I mean, REALLY nice. The fact that she's cute is the icing. Damn nice person to work for and be around. And she seems to like me (I've been there two days and have already showed them I'm more than capable of not only handling the job, but catching other peoples' fuckups before stuff goes out the door) and I'd like to...well, you know the drill by now. Fuck, eat, chew, pussy, poon. i'm getting REALLY predictable.

It's a pick/pack/ship warehouse job, similar to what I did for seven months on the east side of town. Most of my time is spent shoving packing material into boxes and taping shit up. We deal in high-end overpriced kitchen stuff. The kind of things that people with entirely too much money waste it on. Oooh! Look! A pepper mill! Only $37! Fucking christ, for $37 I could buy enough pepper to even last MY metabolism (which is pretty much based around pepper and caffiene these days, I'm turning into Zappa, I think) for years. My favorite was the $300 carving knife. Shit, if I'm gonna spend 300 fucking bucks on a knife, it's because I intend to KILL someone with it.

So, if anyone asks what I do, I'll say "I pack other people's shit. In fuckin' Brownsburg." A statement which lends itself to creative interpretation. Oh, the packing material is called "ranpack", but I thought she said "RAM pack." Yeah, you can pretty much write yer own jokes here, fine readers.

Speaking of rampack, the next door neighbor was watching gay BONDAGE porn tonight. And one of the guys had on a red dress. Which...uh...isn't that the dress Peter Gabriel wore on the cover of Foxtrot? Oh shit. Suddenly Shock The Monkey has implications I never before had any desire to consider.

4.) I took my lunch break today, and drove into fuckin' Brownsburg. When I hit the light, I looked to the right. Ehhh, no. Not Taco Bell. I'm not eating that shi...oh fuck, did you see those CHICKS???

Three knockout young blondes. Shorts. Tanktops. One had tits that I do believe took up THE ENTIRE GODDAMN FUCKING PARKING LOT.

So I had lunch at Taco Bell.

Is this fuckin' Brownsburg's idea of Poon Central? Holy SHIT. The place was CRAWLING with barely legal teens. I guess either school had let out, or there was a Ho Convention in town, and it was starring all these LUSCIOUS YOUNG PIECES OF KILLER ASS. They were EVERYWHERE. If any of them were older than 20, I'll eat my own dick. Seeing as how none of THEM would. Damn it.

5.) I had dinner with my friend D9 tonight. We went to an excellent Mexican place. As we walked in, two unspeakable young babes walked in front of us. D9's response? Two words - "Beaver Crossing."

Goddamn. I wish I had thought of that one.

Got home from dinner and grabbed the guitar. Banged it furiously for half an hour. I had to bang SOMETHING after all this, for fuck's sake.

Not much of a "perfomance" (my hands hurt and my voice was mostly strong but not quite on) but it didn't matter. It felt fuckin' great. I'm craving pussy on a level these days that defies all logic and understanding, but when I can lose myself inside Music, none of that other shit means a goddamn thing. This needs to happen more often. Standing in line at a goddamn Taco Bell in fuckin' Brownsburg, feeling like a very old, very repulsive, highly UNFUCKABLE asshole while surrounded by women who are mostly young enough I could be their fucking DAD? Ehhh, that shit needs to happen a lot LESS. All that does is distract me and take my energy level down. Fuck that.

Well, I WANT to fuck that. That's the fucking PROBLEM.

Women have to feel the same way. Dick is an ANNOYANCE sometimes, isn't it, ladies? Well, OK, not dick. MEN. We're a pain in the ass. Wouldn't your life be better if you didn't have to put up with all the SHIT that goes along with the dick? Now you know how I feel. Well, not about dick. I mean...uh...dammit, there's shitty disco music coming from next door again...GODAMMIT.

Scrubbing my brain with a brillo pad and trying not to think about Peter Gabriel,
Dougie

For A Minute There, I Lost Myself

05.24.06 (9:55 pm) [edit]
It's sometimes scary that booze and fast food exists one mile from my apartment.

Other times it seems almost cosmically necesasary.

I took two hits from the brandy and picked up my guitar. Fifteen minues of solid lovemaking. Notes and rhythm. It flowed right the fuck through me the second I hit the strings, like a goddamn faucet turned on high. Goddammit, I'm so stupid. I put all this energy into things that are never for sure, people that are never reliable. And the one fucking thing that never goes away, the one thing that has never let me down...I let it down. I'm a lousy lover. I'm a fucking whore. But she forgives me every time. Takes me back, wraps me in her loving harmony, guides me with her grooves, lifts my soul with her melodies. I go away, time and time again like the fucking moron I am, but she never leaves.

She took a break after 15 minutes, and now so do I. But I'll be back. I'm heading back right now.

If Music ever decides to appear to me in the form of a woman, I'm gonna eat that pussy until my neck breaks.

Back to where I belong,
Dougie
---------

She lay there waiting for me to return. She took me back in her arms. And we fucked like bunnies.

Focus, asshole. Fucking FOCUS. What you NEED is right at your fingertips. What you WANT is a fucking distraction. Lock back in. Make it yours. Give yourself to yourself.

I'm going to sleep. My lover's seed is inside me, needing water and sunlight to grow. I'll go dream some of that shit up for her now.

The Answer My Friend, Is Blow It Out Your Ass

05.24.06 (9:02 pm) [edit]
No, she didn't say that. I just thought it made for a cute title.

It has been my experience for some time that whenever I make a decision, whenever I go after something, I must first run every damn possibility through my head. Every possible good or bad situation I can think of coming from it, everything at both extremes, and everything in the middle.

And still I NEVER guess it right.

She's giving her ex another chance. He pulled into her driveway as she was talking to me.

I told her the truth - I'm crazy about her, I felt she might have finally had some of the same feelings towards me, and I really wish something more could have happened. But I know it can't now. I'm happy just to go in there and have lunch and see her. Simply seeing her for the past nine months, every time. It's been good for me. I don't want anything more from her, but I would like to talk again.

And that's the truth. There's more truth - that all this is making my fucking head explode - but at the end of the day, that's the truth.

She said that was fine. She might call me tomorrow. If not,I'll see her Saturday on my way to to the gig in Marion.

Her ex might be going back to jail tomorrow, by the way.

Back? I didn't ask. I don't even know what I'm supposed to think about that bit of information. Probably nothing at all, since it doens't involve me in the slightest. She still has feelings for him. Her daughter loves him. She feels she needs to try one more time. And she probably does.

And once again, she didn't really tell me how she feels about me. She's showed me to some extent. But I still want to HEAR it. Whatever it is. Is that wrong?

I'm calling A. I have to get some human input right now, and she's the one who told me to call Amanda in the first place.

I'm at a loss. I don't feel good or bad right now. I feel almost nothing, exept the need to talk to someone. I hope A is home.

Love,
Dougie
-------------
A isn't home. Fucking Christ on a salad dish. I'm gonna go get something to drink and listen to some Kinks. Brandy. That sounds really fucking good right now.

Pacepacepacepacepace

05.24.06 (8:19 pm) [edit]
I'm calling her at 9:00. In 25 minutea.

I really could use a drink right now.

Pacepacepacemotherfuckin' pace.

Love,
Dougie

Once Again, I Chump Out

05.23.06 (9:27 pm) [edit]
Oh, I'm gonna call her. But not tonight. I've been unable to think worth a hairless monkeyfuck all day. If I picked up the phone and tried to hold a conversation with Amanda right now it would devolve into "Gee, I really dig you. Do you dig me? Uh...yeah...gee, I really dig you." within nanoseconds, finally ending with me in a corner drooling on myself and begging her not to hang up on me.

OK, not that bad. But I have so little of actual use in my head towards that end right now, and I need SOME kind of prepatation. I think way the fuck too much sometimes, but this is important, and I'm not going in without SOME kind of a script.

One of my piano students got very solmemn today and told me she was going to miss me. Eight years old. Not the most attentive kid ever, but not a bad student. It's nice to know I've made some kind of difference for at least some of these kids. Some of the others are so fucking DENSE it's like pulling teeth with a chainsaw. I'm glad a few of them have gotten somewhere in the past few months.

Doing the math, my income is about to take a very nice increase for a few weeks. Nothing great, but the extra money in gas driving up there will be more than made up for. It's weird how much of a difference $1.60 an hour can make, especially when you're as FUCKED as I am anymore.

More shit packed. I really have nothing funny to say tonight, which sucks, but mostly I'm trying to keep doing shit and not collapse in a puddle of mental shit. I want really bad to call Amanda right now, by my Dipshit Meter is in the red tonight. I want her to LIKE me, not be given reason to try to get me committed to a fucking home for delusional circus clowns.

Shitfucky.

Love,
Dougie

You've Gotta Feel Sorry For 'Em Sometimes...

05.23.06 (11:52 am) [edit]
Some emails going back and forth because one of our June gigs needs to be cancelled because of a conflict with the guitarist's new band. I don't really mind this at all, we just havne't nailed down which week it will be yet.

He's joined a "Christian rock" band on the verge of recording an album that is supposed to be out by Christmas. I love the reply he got from one of the other guys to his initial email about having to take one of the June gigs off.

"See if they can move it to when we have a week off in August. You have committments to both bands, so if they're a Christian company, they'll understand."

He's a really nice guy, and usually one of the more reasonable religious people I know, but that's a pretty fuckin' optomistic statement, dontcha think?

I think it's sad how naive people can be when you throw Jesus into their pot. This is a BUSINESS. They don't give two shits about us or our schedule, and they have no REASON to. I figured this shit would happen when the guitarist first said he'd be doing this. It was inevitable. It's simply reality. We're a bar band making $80-90 a piece each week. They're giving this other band an advance that will come out to more money than he makes in two years at his current job. Do the math. I think Jesus himself would say "Tugh shit, guys, enjoy your week off."

Why is it you can put the word "Christian" in front of your personal description and people somehow assume you're OK, even look the other way when you are obviously an ASSHOLE? Fuck, look at the degenerate pigs that run this country. THEY are supposedly into Jesus too, but they'd sell their own mothers down the river floating on a shithouse door if they thought it would make them a buck.

If I hear somebody say "I'm a Christian" these days, I figure he MIGHT be a decent human being, but I'm gonna have to assume that what he's really saying is "You are fucking expendable, sinner." The vast majority of Christians I've encountered have managed to work out a perfect psychological pretzel in their attempts to bend every fucking thing in their world to THEIR idea of "what God wants", and anyone who stands in their way obviously isn't in tune with Jesus. For a group of people who claim that their book is the infallible and unmoveable Word Of God, they sure do a fucking bad job of reading the parts about being good to OTHER people.

The guy who wrote this "if they're a Christian company" nonsense isn't like that. Too bad he seems to think other people are as good as he is, though. And really, I don't think this has a fucking thing to do with God. It's a business protecting their interests. It fucks with us, but shit happens. I've got no feeling about that part of it at all. But assuming that Jeezo-folk (or ANYONE) will put the interests of a local bar band above their product is just goofy.

Anyway, we're going to have an extra week off right around the time I move. Sucks on a income level, but will be better in just about every other way given the timing.

Love,
Dougie

5 Comments

Back To Fuckin' Brownsburg? AAAHHH!!!

05.23.06 (10:29 am) [edit]
I felt truly awful when I woke up for work this morning. I had to call in and go back to sleep. This 4AM shit is really adding up on my ass.

But all is not lost, young traveller. I've been calling the other temp agency (the one I've mostly worked for in the past year) on and off for weeks. They've become really unreliable and I havne't worked for them since the end of March, up in Westfield.

But they've got something for me tomorrow. The pay is over a buck snd a half more per hour, and it starts at 7AM, giving me a two-hour move back towards some sane hours. Getting done at 3:30, it won't conflict with my last two weeks of teaching.

But it's in fuckin' Brownsburg.

Oh well. Too much of a drive (over 30 miles), and to a godawful place, but it's only for a few weeks before I move back to Cincy, I'll be back with the same temp agency I might have to use down there, and they were a lot better to me there than up here in Indy.

I still feel like dogfuck, but I'm starting to wake up. Now I've gotta call the people I work for now and let them know I'm leaving. Oh joy.

Love,
Dougie

Lawyers, Guns & Money

05.22.06 (11:04 pm) [edit]
Well, I'm out of money and have no guns. But I did hang out with a lawyer tonight.

It was great fun. We drank and talked and I felt no real need to edit myself. We mostly talked about sex and relationships. a bit about politics and drugs. Mostly about fucking. And I must have said a couple dozen times how much I wanted to fuck HER, but couched it in cute terms, because...well... I'm not going to fuck her. We're "just friends." And really, it's OK. It is. But damn, she's so cute. Even with those glasses that make her look SO geeky, she's a fuckin' doll and I'd eat her for hours.

I like being able to be honest without fear of retribution, without fear of the "we women aren't LIKE that, only you degenerate MALE swine think about fucking that often" bullshit. She thinks about fucking non-stop too. Thank fuck that she's honest about it. I know..what...six women like that? They all get so goddamn HOLY about the fuck-topic. They are ANGELS. They are HEALTHY. NORMAL. Me? I'm a degenerate pig for wanting to ass-bang 19-year olds. Even HAVING a dick puts me at a fucking moral disadvantage. Fucking cunts. Hypocritical cunts at that. Women getting dick on a regular basis (and sometimes MULTIPLE dick at that) trying to make me feel like shit for THINKING about it. iofcnugj0megmjiof4pwft5ki w2d[. It makes me want to throw things. Though you'd think I'd be used to it now, given how fucking hypocritical and full of shit most women are about EVERYTHING. They always turn it againt US. Well, honey, I KNOW I'm fucked up. What do YOU know about yourself? Not a fucking lot, it would seem. All that politically-correct shit about women being smarter than men? Well yeah. You are. But if you used your brains for anything other than being more CREATIVE about being as EVIL as we are, we might be able to take your shit more seriously.

I had a great time talking to her. A fucking RELIEF, it was. I need to meet more women like THAT.

Serious cognitave dissonance pulling into her driveway, though. She actually lives one block from a road named after the family I'm doing genealogy research on in Decatur Township, just down the road from where I teach. It's a very upper-middle class neighborhood, just like the one I lived in four for years with my ex. She doesn't seem to fit there. Her sensibility is much more like mine, and living in a place like that is VERY BAD for my ability to concentrate. But she's learned how to deal with it. (She's only there because of her own previous marriage.) And it was amusing to sit in her living room and drink wine and spend time in that kind of environment again with a woman, especially a woman who I know to be even more left-leaning and anti-establishment than I have become.

She's too cool. I'd want to fuck her even if she looked like Chewbacca, just as a matter of PRINCIPLE. The fact that she's cute as hell only makes it more fun.

But that won't happen. She wanted to know about Amanda, and I unloaded on her, telling her most of the shit I've written here, the shit I'm feeling right now about her.

A's sage advice? Don't wait for her to call. Call HER.

I've known Amanda's phone number for months. It's in the goddamn book. I just haven't felt right about calling her. It's seemed odd, slightly stalker-ish.

But after nine months of this, I think A's advice is right. "You have nothing to lose. If she really likes you, she'll think it's great that you called. If she freaks out and thinks you're an asshole, then she never really liked you to begin with. Just call her. You have nothing to lose."

I hadn't thought of it that way.

It's late now, and Amanda has a young daughter. I'll wait until tomrrow. Though A had another good point when I joked about calling Amanda full of wine and Bacardi Limon. "You might as well do it now when you're not thinking about it too much. If you wait to call her later, you won't call her. You'll be thinking too much again."

Damn, she's cool. Why couldn't SHE want to fuck me? I laughed my way through it all, trying to show her that I was serious when I said I was fine with us just being friends (because I AM) but that thought is still there. "Platonic" friendships exist mostly in theory. I've had a couple GREAT female friends who were "just" friends. But that wasn't from CHOICE. It was because I deemed it better to have just a friendship with a cool woman than to have nothing at all becaus e I was thinking too much with my dick.

A is so easy to talk to. Honesty is not a problem there. I need more of that. More of the perspective she gave me tonight. More of the hugs she gave me when I left. I'm glad I went over there tonight.

Holy shit. I'm going to call Amanda tomorrow night.

The mind reels.

ELP's Tarkus in the player. I have to be awake again in five hours.

Love,
Dougie

Fuckin' Plato

05.22.06 (4:35 pm) [edit]
A phone call from A just now. The lawyer.

I'm going over to her place in a few hours. Hang out with a bottle of wine.

Well, I'll be damned.

I loved the way that went. "Now, I still have a boyfriend, so it's like, totally platonic."

"'So, Doug, just in case you think you're gonna fuck me, I've got news for you...'"

She thought that was funny.

Should be fun, though.

I don't think I ever told the story of one of the things she said the one time we went out. She was kind of making fun of me because of how I felt weird asking her out when she was one of my guitar students. I told her something like "Well, I just don't want people to think I'm using this job as a means of trying to get laid." Which is a fairly stupid thing to say or even think, now that I think about it.

Her reply? "You're a MUSICIAN. You're SUPPOSED to use your job to try to get laid."

"Thank you, you've just made my life a lot easier." We both laughed that time.

She's pretty damn cool.

Love,
Dougie

Fuck You In The Ass, Tom Scholz

05.22.06 (1:24 pm) [edit]
"Babe, tomorrow's so far away
There's something I just have to say
I don't think I can hide what I'm feelin' inside
Another day, knowin' I love you."
- That goddamn motherfucking piece of shit fucking Boston song that won't GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I felt like dogfuck yesterday. Mostly just tired, which was making my brain unreliable as well. I managed to have a great day anyway, because, well, I was with Katie. How could I not?

But I was tired. I called off work today at 11PM last night, right before going to sleep. I woke up once around 3AM, then was out cold until 8:45.

I feel better. But not quite together yet. I think the sleep apnea is back, so even if I get a lot of sleep, it's still shitty sleep that leaves me kinda fucked-up all day. I've found myself eating more recently. I'm afraid to get on a scale. I doubt I'm back up over 250 like I was last year, but I know I'm past the 235 I got down to a few times recently. I think I've lost and gained back weight three or four times in the past year. I get in a decent frame of mind and manage to eat well, exercise a bit, and keep my head together, then some shit comes along and while I may deal with it far better than I would have a couple years ago, I stop being so concientious about taking care of myself. It takes WORK to stay healthy, both mentally and physically, and I feel more capable of it than ever, but I'm still falling off the track more than I'd like.

The sleep apnea probably isn't helped by having a sinus infection blocking my breathing. I haven't felt sick, but I've been blowing unspeakable Lovecraftian horrors out of my nose for a month now.

"Ahh...ahh...ahh..YOG-SOTHOTH!"
"Bless you!"

When the fuck did I start doing cocaine? Jesus snot-bucket Christ. Most of it has been bloody, and what the FUCK is this hard black shit? I could save it up and make it into fucking body armour to send to our guys in Iraq. The phrase "nasal wood chips" came into my head one day. It's thoughts like these that have limited my circle of friends.

If I eat some ungodly hot peppers, it goes away and I can breathe great again. For about an hour. So I should eat habanero peppers once an hour. Well, maybe not. Then it would be blood and chunks of Kevlar coming out my ASS. Can't fucking win. At least today's tissue remnants are mostly green instead of red. A marvel to be seen. Dysentery green.

Camel's perfect brand of melodic prog-rock in the player right now. The Snow Goose. One of the more lovely things in my collection.

Oh, Amanda. What am I gonna do with you, you sweet little vixen?

I just got home from lunch. Her hair was in a perfect ponytail (it curved up slightly at the bottom, making it look like an actual pony's friggin' tail, and it amazes me the things that I notice sometimes, especially given the shit I NEVER seem to notice when it comes to women) and she looked so good, so warm, so...Amanda. Dammit. Nine fucking months. I've been at this for nine fucking months. And I feel like I need to give birth to SOMETHING, just to get this feeling of expectation over with.

She was over the anger. It wasn't mentioned. She was tired, but smiling, and our bits of talking between her trips to other tables were very pleasant. She was happy to see me. And I was relieved. I had no idea what to expect when I went in, but I figured it would be good, and I was right.

She said she will call me, she just has had a lot of shit going on lately. Mostly, I'm not really expecting the call. Soemthing tells me she won't. But I might be wrong. Fucked if I know.

Work has been hell on her. The guy she broke up with a few months ago has been calling, wanting to try again. It was very interesting to see her talk about that. (And interesting that she told me about it, it seemed to be a clear and deliberate message to me that I'm not the only one not wanting to limit my options.) She lets so fucking little out when talking about US, but she's quite easy to read on other subjects. The way she said "So I'm thinking about getting back with him" was laced with a large amount of both irony and cynicism, and I could tell she doesn't have her heart in that at all. She'd told me before about when they split. In a parking lot, both drunk and screaming at each other. That came back on me, and I sat there with a couple thousand questions in my head again. Not just about her. About me too.

She also said her other ex - her daughter's father - has been really shitty with her lately, and even shut the door on her face the last time she brought her back home to him. (They have joint custody.) She has no idea why, and I remember her saying that they usually got along quite well together.

She looked tired and worn down by all this. I sat there and looked right at her, unable to think of much of any intelligence to say to her, but wanting so much to make her feel better.

She came back later, more conversation. And I looked at her again, the wave of desire nearly drowning all pretense at keeping ANYTHING inside. I looked her right in those brilliant blue eyes and said, "God, you are so beautiful."

The way those eyes lit up, the way she wrinkled her nose and grinned. That look of...wow. That was the closest I think I've ever seen her with a sort of frisky "come on and fuck me, boy" look. It was so PLAYFUL. I've made some very vague and playful hints in the past several months about what ELSE I'd like to eat other than those chili five-ways, and I swear to you, that look on her face suggested Mutual Dining Options that...oh lord...the fuck-chemicals burned and burned. Holy shit. She turned right around and walked off to another table, obviously not wanting to let any more out. But...dammit. I'm leaving this soon.

And now I sit here still with a million questions.

But it wasn't just that. In fact, not even mostly. I still felt an almost overpowering urge to let loose and say all the other things I want to say, all the thoughts and desires of wanting to give and share and be human and loving and all that other shit that is probably making you fine readers want to puke and say "You're funnier when you just talk about pussy, Doug."

But I wanted so much to stand, reach up and take her face softly with both hands, hold it there, look into those eyes, and say "I want you, Amanda." And kiss her. Softly. Gently.

And then drag her to the floor and fuck her brains out. I mean, come on. It's ME we're talking about. I'm a drippy over-romantic cheesehead AND a raging pervert. We've established THAT shit a long time ago here in Dougieland.

She asked when I was coming back next, told me she'd be there this weekend. I told her I'd be back Saturday. I'll be in Cincy Friday night, leave Saturday morning, and come back up here to pack my gear and head up for the gigs. Marion on Saturday night, a private party outside of Huntington on Sunday afternoon.

I'm holding on to some kind of hope, I'm just not sure what it is yet. I seriously doubt that she's willing to have the kind of relationship I'm thinking about, maybe only seeing each other once every two or three weeks. Part of her problem with her last boyfriend was that he wouldn't commit to more than whatever it was they had at the time. I don't see this really happening. But...I don't know. I really don't know. I know about as much of where this is headed as I did when I first laid eyes on her back in August. Then it was all about fuck-energy. All about ravaging her body. Wanting to eat her like The Snatch Buffet. I actually had dirty little daydreams about her having to take me to the emergency room, trying to explain to them why her boyfriend had just dislocated four or five vertebrae.

I still want that, of course. But adding in this other stuff, this good warm fuzzy stuff that I try to write about in an intelligent manner but probably come off like a douchebag about...I want that too.

I put a dollar bill on the table. On top of it, I put a slip of paper. Another copy of my phone number. A quarter holding down each side of it. Two more quarters next to it. And then I left.

I left facing another piece of myself, one of those bits of cognitive dissonance that I'm never quite sure how to deal with. That slip of paper with my phone number. Why it was already there, already written down, waiting in my pocket.

It's been there for days. This morning before I left for lunch, I went somewhere else. But H wasn't there, and she didn't recieve that slip of paper. Amanda did later.

I recognize the inconsistency. But I don't honestly feel bad about it anymore. I'm trying to take care of something I feel a strong need for, and I can't pretend to be other than what I am - really fucking alone and sick of it, trying to find a way of making something happen, and not wanting to limit my options. I can't do that to myself.

But I also don't want to fuck up anything that might happen with Amanda. She can't know what I know - that the paper on top of today's tip was originally meant for another woman.

Fucking hell.

I'm starting to feel awake again. The coffee she brought me did its job.

Onward.

Love,
Dougie

Whee!

05.22.06 (9:39 am) [edit]
Lewis Black's new HBO special "Red, White & Screwed" will debut on HBO Saturday, June 10 at 10:00PM.

I no longer have HBO. Somebody tape this shit for me!

His book Nothing's Sacred (which I have already) is coming out in paperback on July 10. Good shit, boys and girls. Good shit.

Speaking of shit, that's more or less what I feel like right now. But hey, Uncle Lew is back on HBO soon. Whee!

Love,
Dougie

It's Because Of Me

05.20.06 (9:34 pm) [edit]
"I played a fool for her smile
I found a groove in her style
I hung on every word that she said
But she was living up inside my head
And I better think this whole thing through for awhile"
- Robert Cray

A beautiful evening, I've just returned to Bill's house after a great day with Katie.

We picked her up yesterday after loading two vehicles full of my shit, and dropped said shit at Bill's. Katie immediately showed her Grandma the yard, and grabbed Bill's bird feed to go feed the large variety of feathered friends that help to make us feel so welcome here. Bill radiates a certain energy, and his home has a certain unique charm that makes me very happy to bring my girl here. I have no desire to prolong my stay here once I've moved out of Indy, but I'm happy to be in this place for a while. Just the SOUND of this house amazes me. the natural reverb in each room is a thing to behold.

We went to two different birthday parties today for her school friends. Mom and Dad and Jo came to the first one. I left Katie with them last night, returning to their hotel for a few minutes to kiss her goodnight before a late-night breakfast at Waffle House and coming back to Bill's to stay up and drink and watch his multitudinous downloads (lots of British TV and old '60s music videos) befor ecollapsing at 3AM.

I already wrote about how Lewis Black knocked me on my ass. The show was an incredible bookend of sorts for me. May 19, 2005 found me in the very same building watching my other favorite comedian, Bil;l Maher, after which I drove to a hotel in Greensburg, Indiana the night before I moved to Indy, staying with the magnificent D9 for a month before getting to my apartment. Exactly a year later, I'm in Cincinnati, seeing Uncle Lew and making the firs tmoves towards moving back to Cincy. It's symbolism of a ridiculous yet resonant kind. I've become extraordinarily skeptical of EVERYTHING in recent years, but it's hard to not believe SOMETHING is lining up on a level beyond myself at this time. I don't pretend to know what it is, I don't even care. It's just happening.

Lew had his usual opening act, the ADD-freakhole known as John Bowman. I LOVE this goofball. He did pretty much the same act as two years ago (the same that's on his album, In Stink) but he's honed it to a perfection I admire greatly. He spends a good portion of his set talking about touring with Lewis for the past three years. "I know you all see the happy and upbeat Lewis on television, but that shit doesn't quite play out after three fucking years on a tour bus." God, I envy him. I'd like to spend three years touring with Lewis Black's DICK, let alone the man himself. Check Bowman out, he's a fuckin' hoot.

Another guy got 15 minutes before Bowman, bgut I cna't remember his name. he started off a bit lame, but ended up pretty funny, if not brilliant. I was happy to see Lewis giving time to younger talent. But I'm glad it was only 15 minutes.

Lew's Red White & Screwed tour is, to my mind, a milestone nin the history of comedy. He's at a PEAK. I can't believe how ON he was all night, non-stop, roaming the stage like a predator, spewing beautiful bile for us all to wallow in. He's a goddamn genius of raw hilarious emotion. Every onc ein a while I get a bug up my ass to try my hand at stand-up comedy, but then I see some fucker like Uncle Lew and think "What's the goddamn point? I can't compete with this shit." /all I'll do is rip him and a few other guys off, which is pretty much what I do on this fucking blog to begin with.

It was goddamn inspiring, though. I left the Taft Theatre feeling strong, carefree, fucking thrilled to be alive. Even in the midst of all the SHIT that goes down in this continuously deteriorating nation, there's still reason to get behind the mule and plow forward with a smile on yer fuckin' face. Thank you Jesus, for Jews like Lewis Fuck Black.

"Christians will say things like that Jews will grab a Christian baby off the street and kill it and eat it. But that's not true. We'd make it work for us first."

One of his main themes was how hard it is to be a comedian when every news story is a punchline, how he cna't keep up with the shit. "I see a story and think 'I could make that funny', then THIRTY OTHER FUCKING THINGS HAPPEN." And after the show, I came back to Bill's and hit the main Yahoo page. one of the main news stories? "Bush says newcomers should learn to speak English."

Yep, these jokes pretty much write them fucking selves.

If I can figure out a way to weasel another 30 or 40 bucks out of the shit I call my income, I'm going to see Bill Maher in Indianapolis the week before I move. Goddammit, I NEED this shit. Raw knife-edged comedy has become just as important to me as music in the past few years. I need it to survive. I'd be dead without my sense of humour and the brilliant souls who feed it. Lewis Black. Bill Maher. George Carlin. Richard Pryor. Doug Stanhope. Sam Kinison. Bill Hicks. Lenny Bruce. David Cross. Lunatic visionaries who fuel my life-preserving insanity all. Gawd fuckin' bless them.

Katie and I had a great time at her friends ' birthday parites. the first was at Parky' s Farm, a wonderful part of the Winton Woods park, with farm animals and a "playbarn" set in a gorgeous part of the northern Cincinnati metro area. Watching 20 kids running around yelling "Chickens! Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!" how can that NOT be a highlight of your day?

She was loads of fun (even with two massive emotional breakdowns that she got over within five minutes - you know, she didn't get shit to happen EXACTLY the way she wanted it to, just like any other five-year old {or older} who still has lessons to learn) and it was a riot to watch her with the other kids. It's too bad that they will soon be splitting into smaller groups, as they go to different places to start kindergarten. A few of her friends will be going where she is (the second highest rated school system in Ohio) and I know for sure that one of her favorite boys will be (who we also saw at dinner last night) but it pulled at me a little to know that she will soon be saying goodbye to some of her friends. Another lesson to be learned.

The second party was all girls (except for the birthday girl's brother) at her house. I was worn out, but tried to keep talking to one of the other kid's mom. It was one of the highlights of the day, being a dad - getting to see THE OTHER KIDS' MOMMIES. A few of these MILFs are boner-inducing on a COSMIC LEVEL.

(And since I know Bacardibreezer wants pics of these MILFs, maybe I should sweeten my end of the deal by saying I'll find a way to get pics of them if YOU get me video of the shit YOU did this past week, you little vixen. LOL)

We visited Bill at the music store, and Katie spent a long time messing with drum kits. She found one her size, very cheaply priced. I know her mother will hate me, but I'm considering this, simply because of how Katie LOOKED sitting behind a drum kit. She looks like a drummer. AS we left, she was staring thoughtfully out the window. "Honey, what are you thinking about?" "I can't stop thinking about drums, Daddy."

That's my girl.

We got dinner and I took her home. We met her new cat. Mimi is still there for now (I hope Sheryl keeps Mim, she's a wonderful creature, but she poops everywhere, so I understand her dilemma) but they have a new tiny kitten they're trying to find a name for. I think Max works best. He's a little fluffball of feline enrgy, and we all got a good laugh out of watching him play. It was nice to share that moment with them both, especially to watch Sheryl. I'm still trying to process everything, even a year later, but I have never once felt bad about taking Katie home to the best mother she could possibly have. I hate leaving her, but I know I'm leaving her with the best.

Wheels turning inside this weekend, trying to find a way of wrapping up ALL the details of moving back to Cincy, not just the easy shit like trnsporting furniture, and coming up with money. The really hard work is yet to be done.

Amanda.

I didn't go there Friday. I didn't have the emotional strength to do it, the focus required. I was locked into moving shit and being with Katie. I'll have to go in Monday and pray she's there.

Part of me knows I have to shit this thing down as best as possible. Another part of me craves any little scrap I can get, anything to prove I didn't waste my fucking energy for the past nine months with this beautiful woman. There is no question whatsoever that I'm leaving. There are nothing BUT questions about what I'm leaving behind in a certain favorite lunch-stop on the east side of town.

I can't begin to sort through it all tonight.

Robert Cray's album Strong Persuader has been a good friend in recent weeks. The whole thing, because it's all brilliant, but go look up the lyrics to the song Fantasized if you want to know exactly what I wish I could sing right now about Amanda. It's fucking dead-on.

But today I put on another Cray album in the van, I Was Warned. Just A Loser hit me in a strong way, part of the reaosn why at the beginning of this post. I don't want to say goodbye to Amanda. I'm still reeling from knowing what I've learned in the past week. Dammit. It has to be done, part of me already HAS done it. But I haven't really let go yet. And knowing me, knowing the shit that I've come painfully to know about myelf - that letting go is a BITCH FROM HELL for me - I know this is going to take a long time to work through.

But I press forward.

Love,
Dougie

I Left My Balls On the Floor Of The Taft Theatre

05.20.06 (1:32 am) [edit]
Laughed them off, I did.

Lewis Black's new album is lovely, but I wans't as knocked out by it as I thought I would be.

But tonight, he repeated little of that, did mostly new shit, and I laughed my goddamn balls off non-stop for an hour and fifteen minutes. You know how you buy a comedy album and there's one drunk guy in the audience who cackles like a fucking loon the whole time? Tonight, that was ME.

I don't think I've ever kept up that kind of sheer fucking hilarity in myself for that long. Thank you, Uncle Lew. For making us laugh about life and love, again.

Love,
Dougie

Katie's Birthday Presents From Daddy

05.19.06 (1:42 pm) [edit]
A couple Power Rangers toys she asked me about months ago. Apparantly Katie wants to grow up to beat the crap out of bad guys, which is pretty much what I wanted to do at age 5, so what the hell?

And some CDs:

Joe Satriani- Surfing with The Alien

The Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin

Jeff Beck - Blow By Blow

Sting - The Dream Of The Blue Turtles

Santana - Caravanserai

DiMeola, McLaughlin, Delucia - Friday Night In San Francisco (Our friend Bill was at this show)

Willie Nelson - Stardust

Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels - Best Of

Aaron Copland - Fanfare For The Common Man, Rodeo, Billy The Kid, Appalachian Spring
(Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra, Stephen Gunzenhauser)

I'm gonna see her in two hours. Whee!

Love,
Dougie

When The Rain Comes...

05.17.06 (8:34 pm) [edit]
Drove through some fairly ugly shit to teach tonight, then it got all nice and calm and the sun came out.

I just went to the VP for cheap beer (Steel Reserve) and an 89 cent burrito. Fuck my health. I've beeb eating beans, rice, and veggies and drinking nothing but water, coffee, and sugar-free energy drinks for three fucking days now.

Just as I was about to leave, a fucking Noah-s Ark GIGANTO PISS-STORM came down. It only lasted abut a minute and a half, but it was LUDICROUs. Cats and dgos? Fuck that, it was raining ELEPHANTS AND DINOSAURS. And mongoose. Not sure what the fuck mongoose have to do with anything, but I don't get to type the word "mongoose" too often, so there ya go.

Then it went away. But now there's lightning and thunder like a motherbastard.

Just put some Mean Green Motherfucker sauce on my bean and cheese burrito. Steel Reserve open and generously sampled. Today is Katie's birthday, and it sucks that I can't be there, but I'm planning a great weekend with her. I sang Happy Birthday to her over the phone tonight. The way she said "Thank you, Daddy" turned me to mush.

Love, Dougie

3 Comments

#62,913

05.16.06 (9:54 pm) [edit]
One of my students tonight, who is ALWAYS there, except for missing one two weeks ago and supposedly doing a makeup tonight, couldn't be there. Won't be there tomorrow. Suddenly forgot that I don't teach on Thursdays anymore, despite the fact that I MOVED him from that night a month ago. He didn't FEEL like coming in tonight.

And, of course, the sonofabitch owes me money.

I'd just spent $44.62 on my ticket to see Lewis Black on Friday night. (Fucking Ticketbastard's "convinience charge" is EIGHT DOLLARS AND EIGHTY-FIVE FUCKING CENTS now.) Guess how much my cut of his lesson payment he owed would have been? You got it - $45.

I made that much from other students, but this is EXACTLY what has been driving my blood pressure up the most for a few months now. I was very happy to take this teaching job in January, I thought it might be the start of good shit coming my way. In eleven years of teaching, i've NEVER had reason to expect the kind of ROYAL ASS-BANGING I've recieved at the hands of the trailer-park white motherfuckers who are apparantly 3/4ths of my clientele.

Between students not showing up and not calling, and students not PAYING for lessons (usually because they've disappeared completely) I fiugre I've lost something like $500 in income in the past five months, mostly because the guy who runs the store hasn't put enough procedures in place to help prevent this kind of shit, but also because it's virtually unavoidable in most cases anyway. By the way, now that students have dropped to half the number they were two months ago, I don't make that $500 in a MONTH anymore if everyone shows up. So you could say this shit happens roughly 20% of the time. That is FUCKED.

You expect a bit of this, and let it go. but I've had FAR more problems at this store getting expected and back income from people who don't understand the simple phrase "You pay by the month, and you pay whether you are here or not, because I am here and you are paying for a time slot."

And to not even bother to call most of the time. Fucking SHITHEADS.

My ass is sore. I've allowed myself very few luxuries in the past year. VERY few. Simply going to see a concert Friday night is more than I usually can THINK about.

The Indianapolis experiment has failed. I can name quite a few good things that have happeend here in the past year, and I dont' regret moving up here at all, but fuck this shit in its rancid bunghole - I'm out of here in 34 days and will at least not have to spend as much per month to even SEE my daughter as I make now in four days at my utter dogshit day job. The worst paying job I've had in the year I've been here. It's devolved to this. FUCK Indiana.

In better news, I just heard Disturbed's version of the old Genesis song Land Of Confusion. (It's hard to think of anything from that period as "old", but it's been 20 fucking years now.) I rather like it, though I imagine hardcore Genesis nuts having conniptions and shitting on themsevles hearing it. Good and crunchy. It's one of the very few things Genesis did after 1981 I give a fuck about anymore (this coming from a guy who was WORSHIPPING those fuckers 20 years ago, because, hey, they USED to be good) and I dig the new version. Yay for Disturbed on that one.

I saw H tonight. She's in her seventh month. And...oh fuck...she looks AMAZING. She actually told me to come in as often as possible in the next month before I leave so we can say hi to each other. She delivers that in such a sweet, innocent voice, but there's a look in her eyes that.....AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Fucking hell. I want that girl in a really bad, sinful way, baby. I swear, when she actually looks me in the eye, she's looking at me like she wants to fuck me. I might be imagining this, and it's so fucking TWISTED that I'm not even sure what else but sheer psychosis on my part can explain why I keep going back, but...AAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wish I had beer right now.

Love,
Dougie

Reason #62,912 Why I'm Glad I'm Moving Back

05.16.06 (1:56 pm) [edit]
I just made lemonade.

I remembered the last time I did. Katie was here visiting. She helped me stir it. She likes to help with things like that.

I stood there for several seconds before I realized that I had been standing there for several seconds, thinking about how cool it was to hand over a pitcher of lemonade to my daughter and have her stir it for me. For us.

The smallest thing. And I miss that.

34 more days.

Love,
Dougie

Hmmmm...

05.15.06 (9:15 pm) [edit]
This morning at work I had my Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels best of CD in the walkman. God, I love that stuff. Real straight-forward rockin' r&b shit, but with a lot of personality. Very cool for the '60s. They didn't sound British, but they were white enough that their R&B didn't sound like the usual stuff around then either. I love the drummer's feel, the bass grooves, the adrenaline-fueled guitar work. It's just raw three chord rock shit, but it's GOOD raw three chord rock shit. Mitch could belt the hell out of that stuff.

His early '70s band Detroit is a blast as well. Velvet Underground fans should know about Detroit's version of Rock & Roll, which Lou Reed says is the best version. He's right too. The original and subsequent Reed versions are great, but Detroit's kicks the living shit out of all of them.

I was thinking about how much I loved seeing him last September when my band opened for him, so I hit on Pollstar to see where he's at.

My band's schedule drops off for five weeks in August and September before the last two gigs I'll do with them. Mitch lives in Detroit, and there's a few gigs up there in August.

Suddenly I have a clearer idea what to do for a vacation in August. I probably can't afford what I really want to do (go back west and drive all over the desert for a week) but a weekend in Detroit sounds like a plan I can actually sorta do without destroying my bank account.

Funnily enouggh, he's playing in Roswell, Mew Mexico at a "UFO Festival" too. I don't know what the fuck Devil With The Blue Dress On has to do with little green fuckers from space, but I'd like to see that.

Hmmm. Michigan. I get the weirdest ideas sometimes, but this sounds like a damn good plan. When I told him how much I liked the show last year (I think I might have had a total of 60 seconds with him before our keyboardist took him back to his hotel) he told me that if I REALLY wanted to see him, I had to see him with his band up in Detroit.

I've got a friend in Port Huron, and it's even tempting out of sheer perversity to go back to Flint. I went there back in...'97? Can't remember now. Met a girl I'd talked to online. It was a complete fucking waste of time as far as the girl went (there's virtually no story to even tell) but I got to drive around the most dismal goddamn city on the planet for a while. Jesus Fucking Shit. Flint, Michigan SUCKS. I ended up at a Chi-Chis on the edge of town, where me and the bartender were the only people not in the kitchen, and talked about relative crime rates in Detroit and Gary, Indiana. So much for driving four hours to get laid, eh?

Just a thought. I might end up taking a three-day weekend in August to jack off to Internet porn non-stop. Fuck knows what I'll do.

Love,
Dougie

Happy Motherfucker's Day

05.14.06 (8:32 pm) [edit]
Nice two hour gig yesterday, as a cancer benefit. Few people showed up, but we all had a good time and ate hot dogs and root beer floats.

Definitely a switch back, playing with the regular drummer. He did pretty well, but I noticed the stark difference in groove on a few songs from the last two gigs.

I finally met our guitarist's new baby. She's what, two months old now? Lovely little thing. Then she looked up at me.

Wow. She's got her mommy's eyes. The ones that on her mommy could DESTROY A MAN'S SOUL from yards away. I looked up at her mom and...yep. Jello. I have become fucking jello.

He's done a couple practices with his new band and is enjoying it a lot. I'm really happy for him.

The tension from Friday was almost completely gone, it was a much more relaxed atmosphere before and after, and we had some discussion about how to handle the next few months. They might try to go on without me and Matt, but I don't think our singer's heart is into that idea. It'll be interesting to see what they do.

I took a long way home, driving through Muncie for no real reason, just a bit of a nostalgia trip, driving by places I used to go when I used to go there a couple times a week.

i spent ten hours in bed last night, and might have actually slept close to nine of it. I even took a semi-nap for an hour today. I fucking needed it, and I won't be doing that shit again for a while.

Listening to Coheed & Cambria for the first time tonight. I was recommended them after I raved about the Mars Volta a while back. There's definite similarities, and I rather like them, but it's not nearly as interesting as Mars Volta to me. THAT band is still kicking my ass every time I listen to them.

Amanda hasn't called. Somehow this doesn't surprise me. Of course, it means that I now have MORE questions, which multiply like fucking bunnies every time I think about it. But I somehow havne't thought about it that much today. This whole thing sucks, but I'm so fucking ready to be out of here and back to Cincy, I can't let anything get in the way of that for long. I packed three more boxes today, and tried to get loose tapes and CDs into their proper places. This is a Never Ending Process Of Futility in my world, as unorganized of a fucker as I am.

Last night driving home was funny. I'd spent so much time in the previous few days thinking about women from areas ABOVE waist level, that it was surely inevitable that I'd snap and go back to a raging river of fuck-hormones. It hit at about 7:00 last night. I wanted to fuck EVERYTHING for the rest of the night. So I forced myself to stay in, though I'd thought about going out to a local bar and check whatever bands were out, since I've been spending Saturdays with my own band for so long. But I didn't do that. I was both tired as hell and horny as all fuck, and that's a lethal combination that makes me REALLY FUCKING STUPID. So I got some cheap porn. Trust me, the universe is better balanced that way sometimes. And that chick on page 37 sure looks like that elusive cross between a waitress and an industrial vacuum cleaner that I've been searching for for so long now.

Gotta get up at 4AM again. I think I'm ready for bed.

Goodnight, you fuckers.

Love,
Dougie

Shine On Brightly

05.13.06 (2:54 am) [edit]
"Above all else confusion reigns
And though I ask no one explains
My eunuch friend has been and gone
He said that I must soldier on
And though the Ferris wheel spins round
My tongue it seems has run aground
And croaks as my befuddled brain
Shines on brightly, quite insane ."
- Procol Harum

I don't know if I rocked like a motherfucker, but I had fun tonight. I certainly sang my ass off. I don't know where I found that energy. I sure wasn't feeling it before the gig.

I love the new sub drummer. He wasn't as consistent tonight as last week, but he still kicks the shit out of most of the material, and he took a solo in the middle of Funk 49 that was a blast to watch.

It'll be a month before he's back. June 17th, two days before my lease is up and I move back to Cincy. Tomorrow's gig (well, later today) is with the regular guy. Damn.

Lots of tension off-stage. Onstage it was great. The singer got good and drunk beforehand, and he's funnier than shit that way. But his reasons bother me, the same as MY reasons for downing a double scotch three times later in the night. We're feeling the end coming. He's not letting on what he really feels (because he never does) but he's upset about all this. I know he's upset at me and Matt both, but he also knows we have to go, why we need to go. He wishes us well, but he's still pissed, because we've ALL put an enormous amount of energy into this band, and it's all going to hell at the end of September. I don't blame him, I just wish he'd say it. Instead he got fucked up and..well...it was a lot of fun anyway.

I've drank far less in the past week or so than I have in a while, but I did my part to deplete the alcohol supply of Marion, Indiana tonight as well. Watching him left me with little choice.

This sucks on a lot of levels, and it's really htiting me hard tonight, but there is no doubt that what I'm doing is right. I'm going to be closer to Katie. I'm going to be driving less, not killing my car as much, or my budget. I'll have some fucking TIME on my hands again, instead of this psychotic schedule I now keep. This is the right thing for me to do. But I have to give up this band, and I didn't want to do that just yet.

And...Amanda...

I checked my cell phone 74,000 times tonight. She never called. After the gig, I saw a message had come in. My heart jumped into my throat, did six backflips, three Hail Marys and sang the national anthem. She called! She called!

Nope. It was a message from Mom.

Fucking Hell.

The gig helped, but I still thought about her. Still wanted to talk to her. Wanted to HOLD her. Sex was Priority Number 947,612 tonight. Well, except for that one time. And the other. And oh, that chick by the bar. And the one...

I'm kidding. It really was way back down the list. For once. My arms ached for two reasons tonight. I was beating the shit out of my bass, and I wanted to hold Amanda. Look into those eyes. Die there and be reborn.

She really has a hold on me.

Sitting there at Steak & Shake today, trying to enjoy my lunch, but mostly feeling like sixteen layers of rancid dogfuck, it occurred to me that something really bad was happening. I was doing something really wrong.

Looking for happiness outside of myself. And letting her unhappiness at me leaving control me.

It scares me. I think back on how badly it has fucked with me in the past when I know I've upset a woman. I HATE that feeling. When Susan left me, I was a goddamn basket case for months. After the divorce last year, I was a dangerous person to be near on a highway. Knowing how much I'd failed, how bad of a job I'd done at making these women happy, I went to the extreme of denying myself any happiness as over-payment.

I can't do that again. I can't allow the disappointment I feel in the wake of discovering Amanda's true feelings towards me to control me, to divert me from the path I know I'm supposed to be on. I can't.

But that look in her eyes. Cold hard fire. As if I'd betrayed her and pissed on her.

I can't get my head around this. That I could have meant that much to her all this time, but I'd never known. But doens't it make sense? Jesus, this is the first fucking time in my life I've done this RIGHT. I've given her tons of space, tons of time. I've planted seeds, and they've been damn good ones. I've not been overbearing, but I've made it clear how much I like her. I handed her a handwritten copy of one of the most beautiful love songs ever written, and I told her she was worth waiting for. I've been GOOD to her all this time.

And now I'm shutting it down and going away.

She knows why, and it's why she'll get over it. She's met Katie. She's got her own daughter. She knows (because I've told her) how hard it is to be away from my girl. She understands. But...I've hurt her.

It's hard to accept. The self-loathing part of me is saying "Well, that's no surprise. You've shit on every other woman you've claimed to care about, why not this one, asshole?"

Fuck that. I've done my damndest to do this right. This is just bad luck coming at the backside of some really good luck. It's never one or the other. I get to be with Katie more and have a saner life. But I've had to sacrifice the band and a shot at Amanda to do it. And...that's the way it has to be. It just is. It sucks, but so does the price of most things worth fighting for. You do it anyway, because it's right.

I'm holding on to hope. That maybe something will still happen with her, in some way. Somehow. But I don't know. I can't just yet. I'd like to believe I can salvage something from nine months of being in her world. I hope I can. but I don't know.

So I wait on that phone call.

Dammit.

Love,
Dougie

Wow

05.12.06 (2:01 pm) [edit]
She's pissed at me.

I told Amanda I'm moving.

"Well, that's bullshit." And she walked off.

That look on her face...

She came back with coffee.

"You looked like you're pissed at me."

As she walked back to the counter, she said "I wouldn't say pissed, but I am mad. I'm definitely not happy about it."

She said this loud enough for everyone in the place to hear.

Numbness creeping across me. I suddenly felt like shit.

I almost hadn't said anything. I'd written my phone number down, had it on the table ready to go. It's been a while since I felt uncertainty about her. I felt it all the time before, never sure whether to say or do what I wanted to. But recently I felt confident around her. But sitting there when I first went in, I suddenly felt the fear again. I plowed through it anyway.

And got rewarded with anger. Jesus. That look of hurt on her face. Hurt mixed with real live anger.

Without her saying it, without me even asking, I got the answer to my question.

She likes me.

I told her I'd still be by weekly for the next few months, and she seemed to cool down almost immediately. "As long as you still come by sometimes, that's all I care about."

THAT was bullshit. She cares about mroe than that. I could tell in the stiff way she said it. She still isn't letting much out, but I could read her this time.

Suddenly this whole thing really hurts.

She has my number. she said she'd call. "I sure will, now that you're LEAVING ME." Absolute fucking scorn in her eyes when she said that. Jesus Christ.

I haven't quite processed al this yet. I told her i'd be back next week, but I expect that she'll call soon. Now I'm going to be dreading that call and living for it at the same time.

She really likes me. And she's pissed at me for going away. I don't fucking believe it.

I've gotta pack up and go to a gig. I'm tired as hell and numb from this thing with Amanda. I'm either going to rock like a motherfucker or be really lame tonight. I can feel it.

Dougie

FUCK Howard Dean

05.11.06 (11:26 pm) [edit]
It's not been that long ago that I believed Dean to be about the only Democrat around with actual balls, and I was pissed at John Kerry for the way he buried Dean in the last election.

But FUCK him. This SPINELESS COWARD is now courting evangelical right-wing Christians with his bullshit assertions that Democrats "have an enormous amount in common with the Christian community, and particularly with the evangelical Christian community" in regards to gay issues. FUCK this cowardly, turncoat piece of shit. Hey, maybe DEMOCRATS share this shit, but those of us with SOULS do NOT. Some of us DESPISE the evangelical right and every goddamn thing they stand for. And fuck you in your worthless ass for trying to court these cocksuckers, you pathetic cunt.

I HATE these fucking Democrats. They do NOT represent me. Right-wing conservatives have done everything they can to portray an image of being "persecuted" by "liberals" at the very same time that these supposed liberals are bending over with their very own supply of Crisco to take REPUBLICAN COCK up their sorry assholes, wasting America's time with issues that do NOT matter.

I've got news for you fucks:

1.) Gay marriage Is NOT a real issue.

2.) Video games are NOT a real issue. (Listen up, Hillary, you cunt.)

3.) ANYONE who plays footsie with Republicans is a SOULLESS SWINE and is NOT TO BE TRUSTED.

FUCK these Democrats. They represent everything that is lacking in spine and principle in this formerly great nation. If ANYONE is to take on these Republican SHITHEADS who are trying to turn us all into a nation of Jeezo-swilling consumer RODENTS, they have to do so with BALLS and SOUL, not this half-assed capitulating horseshit. FUCK Howard Dean. FUCK John Kerry. FUCK Hillary Clinton. They are WHORES every bit as much as the minions of Bush and his evil fucking empire. Liberals in the USA are evety bit as self-righteous and fucked as their pseduo-conservative counterparts, and they are KILLING us all.

I love my country. I hate what we've become. A nation of wretched priority-challenged CUNTS in thrall to a pseudo-moral elite who offer NO true solutions, NO true change, NOTHING but hate and fear and
SHIT. I piss down the throats of these swine. We need a new leadership. A new party. Until that moment comes, I regard traitorus FUCKHOLES like Dean the same way I regard Bush. Ball-less tools of an authority I've long since given up on, a suckup slave of religious POWERSLUTS who care NOTHING about the issues and assholes that I will rail against UNTIL MY DYING BREATH.

To Hell with all you pigs. You do not represent me. And I no longer care what the fuck you think.

Love (because that is the opposite of THEM),
Dougie

Pablo Escobar, Honey

05.11.06 (10:32 pm) [edit]
"Been runnin' down the road, tryin' to loosen my load
Got seven women on my mind." - Jackson Browne

Somebody will get that title. At least I hope she does. I still miss her.

Been driving to the audio book of Killing Pablo by Mark Bowden. I raved about this book a couple years ago. It's a fascinating study of the Columbian drug lord, and I'm captivated by his evil exploits. As much as I despise the things he did, it's hard not to be in awe of his balls, his blatant mastery of the evil underbelly of everything vile and self-serving that fuels our human race. He makes Tony Soprano look like George McFly. I admire the motherfucker in the same breath I hate everything he was. Read the book. It's good shit.

A very nice few hours with Katie. We dropped stuff off at Bill's, ate fruit and drank grape juice in the parking lot of a Meijer's store while listening to Procul Harem, and got Mommy her Mother's Day present at Half Price Books, I dropped her back home.

Then I called one of my best friends as I bougbt gas, and he's become a father tonight. A few minutes later, the right side of the plastic thingamajob underneath my radiator fell off on I-75, and i used a liberal amount of duct tape to repair the damage. (While traffic went way too fast inches away.) Then I drove home oblivious to all but the exploits of Columbian drug lords.

I'm drunk as all hell right now. I've decided against the letter to Amanda. I'll simply give her my phone number and tell her I need to talk to her. I think she'll understand. But who the fuck knows where it will go.

I have to wake up in five and a half hours. I've got seven women on my mind. Three that...uh,...well, none of them seem to give two fucks whether I live or die, actually. FUCK Jackson Browne and The Eagles, anyway.

Terrapin Station still in the CD player,
Dougie

It's Sinking In

05.10.06 (10:09 pm) [edit]
"Inspiration, move me brightly
Light the song with sense and color."
- Jerry Garcia

I'm moving soon. Holy shit.

Eight boxes packed full of books and magazines. Three of them are already in the car, as I'm going to Cincy tomorrow. Drop stuff at Bill's, spend two or three hours with Katie, get the fuck back to Indy and get up at 4AM to go to work. Leave work Friday straight to see Amanda, back home to load gear, then up to Marion for a gig. An afternoon gig Saturday.

Thank fuck I have Sunday to decompress a bit, but I've got plenty of stuff around here to do then too.

Bill is making me feel good about the possibility of going into music sales. Not my first job choice, but Christ, it beats the fuck out of what I'm doing in the daytime now. And I should be able to get a few students through it as well.

The Cincy band I haven't played with since August is back together, and have been playing gigs for a couple months. I didn't know anything about this until I saw their website a few days ago. They never called me. Oh well. I'm gonna miss playing at pool parties with topless drunk chicks, but I won't miss going to gigs wondering if one of the guys is getting arrested at the same time.

Terrapin Station is filling the room as I type. Far and away my favorite Dead track, for obvious it's-sorta-proggy reasons.

How to handle Amanda. Does she even care. What the fuck. Questions, questions, questions. Flooding into the mind of the concerned deviant bassist today.

The kid with the really hot Teri-Hatcher-esque mom seems to be the most affected by me leaving. He was pretty erratic tonight, and seemed PISSED at me. But then he'd ask me to play the example I'd just written down as fast as I could and he'd laugh at me again. Good kid. I'm gonna miss him. But yeah, I'm gonna miss jerking off all over myself thinking about his luscious hot mommy even more. God DAMN, I'm gonna miss her.

My lease is up on June 19th. Shitloads to do before then, and I have money issues out the ass to contend with. I applied for a second credit card yesterday. I HATE that, and it feels uncomfortable, but I have no real choice right now.

I've become addicted to the comedy of Carlos Mencia. Wow, something to offend everyone. I saw a blurb that said "Makes Chris Rock sound like Bill Cosby." A bit over-stating the case, but...yeah...not bad. Definitely gonna make yer more liberal white folk pretty squeamish. I think he's fucking hilarious.

Saw a lovely woman at the Shell station today. Mid-20s, pleasant figure, not barely legal/pregnant/married (well, I didn't see a ring)/something else to make me feel like a perv. Just a nice looking woman with one HELL of an ass in those jeans. I almost thanked her. "Hello, miss. Thank you for making my dick hard in a nice Christian manner."

OK, I'm still gonna burn.

Time for go to bed, Tor.

Love,
Dougie