A Fortress Of Solitude

A Fortress Of Solitude

My last Friday at work went well. Bob was gone for the day. He figured he'd grab a vacation day while he could since he thought he'd be training a new person when I leave. Turns out that won't be necessary.

I'm impressed that my job means enough to them (let's face it, I'm one of two people running a quarter million in shit out the door a week) that when I told Bob and Al I'd be leaving the day before I made it official, they went to the supervisor and gave him a heads up, then put a few hours into scrambling around trying to figure out how to replace me. Seems they REALLY didn't want to hire on a new person, both for payroll reasons, and becuase it's just involved enough that they don't need to take a chance on hiring an idiot. I guess Bob has went through quite a few helpers, many of which were morons at best.

One of the older ladies who's been there a while is out after spraining something or other (don't know the story) but she'll be back next week, taking over my job. She knows at least 2/3rds of what she needs to already, and Bob likes her well enough. I like her too. She's got a nicely dry, sardonic sense of humour, and she's a good worker. So it's all good.

I promised myself I wouldn't get emotionally involved in this job, and i've pretty much succeeded, but I do like the people a lot and don't want to fuck them over. I'm glad it's going well.

One of the black girls gave me a nice buzz today. Being so awfully white means that the slightest thought of being with a black girl is a bizarre, out-there experience for me. I LOVE working with mostly black people, I've always hated the racism I grew up with, but seldom got to be around blacks enough to really feel like I fit in. But this crew has been great, really cool people. And some of the girls...wow.

S is an amazing girl. Incredible body. Her ass is a thing of holiness and artfulness. I can be quite the animal-perv, but sometimes I see a woman so utterly amazing, I feel like I'm studying Nature's Work. I don't NEED to be with a woman like that, I'm quite happy checking out a LOT of nice ladies who aren't models but still look good to me. But when you see one like S, ya GOTTA linger a while. She has a killer big round ass, the kind only a black girl can have it seems, narrow hips, a firm rack, and a killer smile. Changes her hair a lot, always great. Very stylish lady. I figure she's five years or so younger than me. She's always been nice, and we joke around a bit, even vaguely flirting sometimes.

Today we were leaving for lunch and she was behind me, walking a bit faster. She started to come around me and said "I'm beating you, Doug!"

"Oh please? Wait, you meant something else by that. Damn."

She laughed loud at that.

I couldn't help myself at the end of the day. I was staying the extra half hour, she was leaving. We were walking opposite directions, and I finally said what I've wanted to say for seven months, tonight in particular because she was dressed great. Tight pants, a blouse that often came up over her belly. She looked ready to kill a man with those dangerous curves. A white boy like me would be nothing but a puddle after five minutes with that.

"S, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you look GREAT today. You always do, but today you look especially fine."

The smile that lit up on her face nearly made my spine cave in. Her eyes were big and bright. There was a warmth and sensuality off her that could melt steel.

"I NEVER mind a compliment from a man. THANK you!"

The way she said that...you'd think I'd be hard in an instant. But no, the dick was surprised too. The dick was saying "You'vwe gotta be kididng me. She LIKED you saying that? Sorry, I can't move right now. I have to process this information."

Actually, my dick isn't that articulate. He just passed out with a weak groan.

Being Indiana cornfield white, I'm very much into white girls. But S...brown sugar, why DO you taste so good, anyway?

Fuck, I just realized I'm missing the season premeire of Real Time WIth Bill Maher. Oh well, I'll catch the repeats.

Talked with the plant manager for a few minutes before I left. He's really sad to see me go, which means a lot. I REALLY like this guy. When the boss who's over 100 people, three levels above you, is a guy you can joke around with and give good-natured shit to, that's a mighty fine thing. He said that tonight too, that he likes having me around for that reason. Shit. It's a dull job for shit pay and the company is loaded with idiotic procedures and policies, but most of the actual PEOPLE are very cool. I'll miss them. And particularly him.

But I've got better things to do.

Sitting with the guitar for hours tonight. Waited a long time to bother with dinner. Been hitting some old and new songs alike, really working my voice out. I need things that challenge me. So, try some XTC. It's a BITCH to do that stuff properly sometimes.

A relatively easy one for me, and the one I've worked up a solo arrangement of tonight, is That's Really Super, Supergirl. From Skylarking, one of the best known XTC albums. It's a knockout tune, with a great sarcastic love-gone-bad lyric, supercool chords, and one of those killer Partridgey melodies that fills my pants with ball-sweat. I don't know what has made me gravitate so much towards chewy pop in the past year, but I ain't complaining.

I'm hoping for a phone call from a lovely lady soon. She's been gone for a while, but I heard from her again tonight. As I drove down to pick up a pint of Bacardi Limon (hey, I've been a good boy and have busted my ass all week, I happen to think I deserve it) I put on a Smithereens tape and sang along to A Girl Like You. Made me think of her.

It's been a tiring week, and my doom-shit adventures on Wednesday were no picnic (Christ, I hope no picnics come from THAT) but I feel strong and healthy tonight. I got on the scales today and I'm holding around 235. Still a long way to go, but that's 15 pounds down from last year.

A year ago I was mostly miserable, feeling like I'd made the tiniest bit of progress back to some kind of mental stability, but not much. And I was feeling the wind blow, vibes coming through that signalled danger up ahead. A month later I was on my own.

I look around this little apartment and think, shit, I like it here. There's a lot of weird edges around my life, a lot of things I'm not comfortable with or happy about. But I feel myself DOING shit for once. All the guilt, fear, hatred and self-loathing of last spring/summer started to drop away around the time I got into the warehouse gig, and now that I'm leaving I need to carry that momentum forward. I NEED out of there. It's becoming stagnant. Too comfortable. I need some adventure, some hunger, some edge-of-the-pants moments that I know are coming with the money situation being thrown into a whirlwind in the next few weeks. It's scary, but it's exciting at the same time.

High hopes, low expectations.

Andy sings to his supergirl about her fortress of solitude she put him in. I've found some doors leading outside of this one. but I like coming back in sometimes. I've turned it into my home. I need to learn more about taking what's given me and turning it on its head to my advantage. I'm getting better at it. And I feel the need for a dick joke right now, becuase this self-important shit is getting boring.

A man goes to his doctor to have his eyes examined.

The doctor walks in and says, "Look, you have to stop masturbating."

"Why? Am I going blind?"

"No, but you're upsetting my other patients."

Nighty-night, motherfuckers.

Love,
Dougie