So Many Ways To Die Bitch, Die

So Many Ways To Die Bitch, Die

It took a while to sleep last night, but I did better than I thought I would. It was fucking terrible, and I felt about fifty thousand things creep through me and dance around like fucking demons in some bad Browadway musical. I kept hearng her laughing at me, the evil cunt. I hated EVERYTHING for a while. Especially that fucking bitch.

This morning, I tried to banish that shit from my mind by thinking about somebody else. Nice happy thoughts. OK, kinda dirty ones. You're reading this, so hi there. :)

Then I drove to work listening to Ween. Do a search for the lyrics to Piss Up A Rope. It will change your life. I was singing along merrily drinking my coffee. The tide was turning already.

I KNEW I could count on Bob. Bob is a great friend, because he has absolutely no respect whatsoever for other people's pain. I admire him for this. Cruel fucking bastard, he's funny as shit.

He was laughing at me before I got halfway through my story of last night. I can take it from him, because I know him and he's a really good guy. but he seems to live for tales of misery. Which must be why he likes working with me so much, because I can entertain his ass ALL day.

"You shouldn't hang out in bars."

"Well, yeah, I don't really like them to begin with, but where else do I go? I'm not into church, you know. I'll get lawsuits hitting on anyone working here. "

"I'd suggest the supermarket, but your luck there has been bad." Evil laugh.

"Fuck you in the ass, Bob." A merry good-natured reply. I like him. Fucker. LOL.

I told him I hope she gets the world's worst ever yeast infection and dies stuck to her chair.

"That's a bit complicated. I'd just be happy if she got hit by a bus."

"But that's not creative enough. I'm craving personalized justice here. To satisfy MY needs. Because MY pain is important, dammit. Come on, there's SO many ways to die bitch, die."

I think I amaze even him sometimes. Hee.

Emotions were all over the place for a while, but I stabilized by lunch time. Ate a ton of chorizo sausage. Hey, you've just GOTTA sometimes. But the back and forth from hate to self-loathing to anger to sadness to fuck knows what else turned into a nice layer of sarcasm, and I've pretty much got my sense of humour back. That fucking cunt.

A song appeared before me today. I imagine a two-step country beat behind this.

---

Whore, whore, you fucking whore
Wanna kick your ass through the fucking door
Whore, whore, you fucking whore
Hope you get an infection, makes your pussy sore
Whore, whore, you fucking whore
I hope you fucking die
Die

Whore, whore, you fucking whore
Hope you choke on a rancid apple core
Whore, whore, you fucking whore
Hope your ass gets fucked by a minotaur
Whore, whore, you fucking whore
I hope you fucking die
Die

---

My friend D9 suggested a place to me a few months ago, and I called him tonight to commend him on his excellent taste. If'n your ever in Indianapolis, south of downtown at Kentucky Avenue near Morris, just south of I-70 is John's Famous Stews. I got the medium beef stew. It KICKED MY ASS. I was in and out in 15 minutes (had to eat fast to get on to guitar lessons) and I loved the place. Kind of a dive. Old beat-to-hell waitresses. Fuckin' great food. I'll be going back OFTEN.

Fun teaching. I like my students. Some good kids, some cool adults. Good place to teach. I hope it keeps moving forward. It could develop good if I figure some things out schedule-wise.

One student came in better this week than she felt last time. Last week she was hopped up on vicodin after having an ovarian cyst rupture. Ouch. Shit. I told the guys later, "Ever have one of those empathetic moments where you feel other people's pain? I'm a GUY and my ovaries hurt just thinking about that."

I was tempted to go back to the bar tonight. but I'd rather listen to Todd Rundgren's Back To The Bars. It would be a stupid, ultimately meaningless gesture going back right now. I'll go back eventually. I have the feeling it isn't a regular hangout for The Cunt. If she's doing this shit to people often, she's going to end up getting the shit beat out of her or worse. I figure she moves around. Or maybe it was a one-off thing and I just happened to be the asshole she picked. But I saw her going back in, and I took that as her looking for more.

Who the fuck knows. The better part of me is hoping she gets over whatever was done to her that made her do this to me. But most of me is still feeling evil towards her.

for a while, I was feeling evil towards everyone. I keep running into these brick walls where I have to face my own weakness, my own failings, my own dark, twisted, evil side. Seems that nearly everything that has happened to me with women lately has forced me to take a harder look at myself. It's a GOOD thing, but it sometimes has to happen in shitty ways.

I asked for experience. I asked for a full range of stuff to sink my teeth into. I'm getting it. Susan used to use that phrase with me - "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it." Good advice, but hey, I'm GLAD I'm getting it. Well, not at the time. Certainly not last night. But what else do I do? Sit here and jerk off, never go take any fucking chances? I MIGHT get lucky that way, but the odds are pretty remote. I sure haven't had good results that way before. I'm sick of being scared of my own shadow, running away from shit out of guilt and fear. Staying with what I KNOW and staying away from the unknown. FUCK that. I'd rather get psychologically cornholed by some wretched cunt in her SUV than live the way I've lived for a long, long time. Really. I'm more equipped to deal with it now. I'm learning to let things slide off. Takes a while sometimes. But in the long run, very little of anything MATTERS. That's not cynical or fatalistic. It's LIBERATING. The things that do matter are to be taken seriously. But most shit doens't matter, except that it's more experience. More to learn from. So why not get a whole bunch of the shit? The utter randomness of this universe, the realization that my ife has more to do with MY CHOICES than some invisible deity pulling strings - this shit is making my life much, much better. It means I can recover from things faster, can put aside the pain easier. I'm not nearly as far down this road as I want to be, but it beats the FUCK out of the religious nonsense I had pounded into my brain for years. I try very hard to respect other people's need for that shit sometimes, but I have no use for it at all anymore, I just have some of the residue still in me to powerwash out. I want as little to do with it as possible. I still have a sense of some kind of basic force out there, but I really don't give a fuck. If I take what I'm given and use it well, I'm doing something towards honoring that force, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. If there's more to it than that, I'll figure it out eventually. Right now, religion can take a long walk off the edge of my cock. I'm more into living HERE than worrying about where I'm going. I'll get to where I'm going. I'd rather savor this moment like a bite of that killer stew I had tonight. And if something comes up that tastes like shit, spit the fucker out, grab a brew to wash it down, get the fuck on with yer life. It just doesn't matter.

Is this all a bunch of horseshit? Tell me if it is. I know NOTHING and am making this - all this, all my life - up as I go along. I figure it's OK. Anyone with any brains won't take most of what I say seriously anyway. :)

Love,
Dougie .