Things To Do In Ohio When You're Dead

Things To Do In Ohio When You're Dead

01.22.07 (1:11 pm)   [edit]
"When I was young
The sky was filled with stars
I watched them burn out one by one
I've had my share
Of disappointing love affairs
And I'm no stranger to disillusionment
Little darlin'
If you need a helping hand
If you need someone
You can count on me
And I will understand

Heartache spoken here
I know a thing or two about heartbreak and tears
So come on down, we'll talk about it
Heartache spoken here
Heartache spoken here
I know a thing or two about heartbreak and tears
So come on down we'll talk about it
Heartache spoken here"
- Warren Zevon


It was great to have Katie here overnight. We watched a lot of TV, played with Legos, and I made a variant on the chicken and noodles dinner my mother has made since I was a kid. Came out nicely.

School was on an hour delay this morning because of weather, so we had a little extra time. She slept great last night. I was up way too late and awoke far earlier than I'd have liked.

But there was something special about dropping my girl off at school. Normally she takes the bus from home. We'll be doing this kind of thing more often, I think.

She's so full of life and fun, and I need what she brings to me. I only hope I return the favor. A couple moments proved to me that I did, and I'm also amazed at how Katie expresses her love for me, how she can turn my heart into mush in a nanosecond with a few choice words. I've got an amazing kid, boys and girls.


I drove off to the library for a bit, then called the temp agency. They've had very little work for me lately - I've not put in more than 16 hours a week since mid-December, and a couple weeks less. Students are slowly coming in, and there's a possibility of several more coming my way all at once in the very near future, but I don't know that yet. Mere weeks ago, I was craving down-time, feeling very over-worked and constantly rushed. Now I have way the fuck too much time on my hands, and it's killing my productivity and motivation. Not to mention my bank account.

So, I spent 25 bucks today that I didn't really have, I just felt like giving myself a treat after the last month of eating out of a can.

I finally picked up Neil Young & Crazy Horse At The Fillmore 1970, which came out a few months ago. It would be on right now, but damn, I can't get this Wes Montgomery box set out of my player. Especially on a lonely wet Ohio afternoon, Wes is speakin' to me, and Neil is just gonna have to fuckin' wait his turn.

Then I ate lunch at my favorite restaraunt in the entire universe. Not only that, but it was the best meal I've had there in a LONG time. I could eat Thai food every fucking day. They seemed to drop off somewhat for a while, still good but not quite as spectacular as I was used to. Today that fucker NAILED it, got the spice level exactly right, and I was one happy sumbitch.

Eating a killer lunch while reading Bart D. Ehrman's The Lost Gospel Of Judas Iscariot and sending text messages back and forth with Abby. Contentment reigned supreme. I love this life.

Driving off, still getting text messages, smoking a Winchester and singng along to Zevon, the mood turned contemplative.

Within minutes my chest was burning and something was happening behind my eyes. Warren started singing Searching For A Heart, and I found it hard to focus on anything but the pain.

The contentment swirled its way back in, forming a nice stock with the pain to make today's gumbo with.

I love living alone.

I hate BEING alone.

I love the edge-of-my-pants feel of so much of what constitutes this weird life I've been rebuilding in the past couple years.

I hate having no one to share it with.

I love solitude, crawling up inside my own head and finding the shit that hides there, dusting the fuckers off and making them dance.

I hate not having the option of togetherness that could balance that solitude and make it have more meaning and purpose. To have the one when I need it, and the other in the meantime.

I want it all, and I want it now.


But mostly I want her.

Shit.

Love,
Dougie