Pain.

She had no idea how I felt. She looked at me with her eyes wide, wet eyes with tears that were just beginning to hang at the lip of her eyelids. I couldn't stop the anger I was feeling, it wasn't irrational or excessive. She had hurt me deeply, had strayed over the bounds we had established through the years we were together. I watched a tear spill over, tracing its way down her cheek. It lodged in the corner of her mouth, her normally full lips white with the pressure she exerted holding them together. Her chin quivered slightly then firmed then quivered again. She had asked me to forgive her, just once. She did not let go of her pride and beg or whine or make excuses and for that I stayed to think about it. For that reason alone I stood there looking down at her feeling a snake writhing in my stomach. Her hand fluttered then went to her face wiping the trail from her tear away. The tips of her ears reddened slightly, she was embarrassed to cry right now. She didn't want to twist me with her tears, her sadness, her remorse. She knew the forgiveness would only be complete if I made the decision without coercion. I slowly sat down in the chair across from her.
My eyes locked on hers, wanting to scream to yell. She was mine! Mine alone, and she had dared to touch another. Someone else had brushed her thick hair back from her cheek. Someone else had tasted her lips, maybe bit them lightly. I shuddered at the thought of her closing her eyes leaning towards an indefinable shadow of someone else. The rage swirled up in me again and my heart pounded as if it would burst. I felt my hands sweating and shaking. If "He" was here now I would choke him. I would spit in his face and bash the back of his head into the ground. I would make him bleed and cry and whimper for mercy like they had made my heart do. She saw the change in my eyes, maybe she could imagine where my mind wandered. Her face went even paler and her fingers locked onto each other. She was braced for a firing squad, for an explosion. She was so brave to see the agony in my eyes and dare to make contact. She would bear it if I exploded, she would sit there silently accepting what she thought was the proper reward. She might be considering how she would feel if I had done the same. If I had strayed into the arms of another. I cannot lose her for this. My foundations are moored on the time we have spent together. I cannot even think of something I have that does not have her subtle imprint on. I trace my fingertips lightly on the table. The rustic pine table she had wanted so badly for her perfect room. The one I had my uncle help me make in his workshop. It might not have been as perfect as the one she saw in the store but her face when she walked in the door.. Ah, that smile still brings tears to my eyes, her gasp of amazement as she saw our initials carved delicately into the legs with great flourishes and twists. I want to burn that table now. It's ashes might seal the hole inside me that feels like it is swallowing me whole. I feel a tear in my own eye, my traitorous eye that I try to blink away. I almost hate her as she sits there deliberately not looking at my tear, my weakness, but I can't. I draw a slow breath in, filling my lungs as much as I can before releasing the breath slowly. I don't want to be civilized about this, but I can't make myself hurt her on purpose. "Do you want someone else?" the words are thick in my mouth. They taste of bile and salt and feel like I'm talking through syrup. I clear my throat, wincing at how harsh I sound, how close to tears. "No" her voice is clear but so soft, she seems afraid to answer. She is scared I'm baiting her, trying to force an explosion. "Do we need" I clear my throat again, clenching a fist on the table. "Do we need to talk to someone." I finish in a rush, the last thing I want is to talk to someone about this, even her, even myself. I just can't give her up. I can't let her go without a fight, without trying. She looks down at her hands, clenched together in her lap.
I think we are already doomed.

This would suck if it happened. I felt like this only once, over a kiss that an ex- "the super-ex" had with someone else. We never talked about it though, we never had things together. I was just stuck in reminiscing and morbid speculation about how different it would be if something like that happened now, with FW.

Writing

I have discontinued posting This Guy- it's no longer easy to whip out a chapter at work the story has gotten complicated enough I drew myself a chart. I'm going to continue offline however since it's still going strong.

Hot Librarian- got me reminiscing about the good old days.. Damn those teenage years...
Sure to date myself but one of the first concerts I ever went to was Poison / Warrant in Philly. I remember so many of the girls were dressed in lingerie all the guys in black leather. I had just got my first leather and it was still crisp looking so we stomped it in the parking lot before the show. Some security guy thought we were beating the hell out of somebody and ran over- he started laughing when he saw it was just a jacket. I still have that jacket in my closet I wore it up to last year when I finally admitted it was too small for me. I had replaced both sleeve linings with old pant legs, the interior lining was the remains of a blue knit shirt. All of the repairs to that jacket over the 15 years I had it were done with a hot glue gun which actually worked pretty good. The insides of the sleeves were all burned from sliding my arms up in them hiding cigarettes from teachers. One sleeve is covered in blue spraypaint. The can had gotten lodged behind the passenger seat- it was summer so the leather was tossed in the back, when my buddy sat down there was a hissing which stopped every time he leaned forward, we never even smelled the paint until we stopped and one half of the backseat was covered in blue paint. It had a long cut on the arm where some guy had swung a knife at me trying to back me off or something. Being me (stupid macho whatever) I had blocked the knife with my arm, thankfully the leather held although he had pulled his swing a little when I charged him, we were friends after all. When one of the belts came off I sealed the tear and took the other belt off- I saved both belts just waiting for when I might need them. I've fallen off 3 motorcycles wearing it. It was confiscated by the cops twice- once my Mom got it back for me the other time I went to the station and pretty much begged for it. Me and almost all my friend had identical shiny zippered motorcycle jackets we wore them every day of highschool all year round. When they initiated a dress code that forbid jackets we wore them anyway I racked up 9 suspensions before the school caved and just started spot checking our pockets for cigarettes, drugs, whatever. Only thing was they could only check your jacket pockets, not your clothes..
My new jacket has normal pockets, no zippers or epaulets, no belt to jingle as I walk..
I think I need to go home put on my jacket, pull out some old chili peppers/ violent femmes/ metallica and drink some JD out of the bottle..

Time Thieves

Today is a bad day- time pirates have invaded my work area and are inhibiting me from getting any real work done. These stupid people keep putting me on hold and keeping me there forever. It's cutting into my slack off time. Pretty soon my boss will see me working all the time(even though I'm really on hold) he might get used to that then when I start slacking again he might realize how much of it I do..( I think that makes sense)
I have supremo amounts of stupid ass people i have to call today but everyone is answering their phones and putting me on hold so I'm not even halfway through and I only have an hour or so left of good time to call these stupid people. Don't think I know it's not aploy by you to make me angry enough to stop calling. All of my customers are against me. Well they were before anyway since I'm trying to collect money.. But now they have actually joined forces into frustrating me into giving up. It might work too I have a severely low desire to work threshold, and I'm already past it because here I sit typing this and not working at the same time..
ADD is kicking my ass again. I've noticed I can't touch my mouse without clicking on the internet link,... no matter what I'm doing.. Damn.

Still more time to kill....

FW was very happy with her presents this year, I spoil her tremendously, really I do. She managed to hold off a flu and thank me properly for the fantastic gifts before succumbing yesterday. Now I feel like hell, which means her thank you might have been laced with some GERMS.. Still worth it though, wouldn't trade it for anything, but if I start feeling worse I may change my mind about that.

I think I have a slight fever, i feel flushed and hot with that twisty sick feeling, but my fingertips are all icy cold????
That doesn't make sense to me.
FW felt so sick last night, she had migraine style headache and throbbing sinus, the tylenol and sinus crap was ... crap so I fixed her a flu season booster 2 shots of Grey Goose in 1 shot of OJ with just a dash of Chambord.
The first one didn't take, so I made her another and went and took my shower, when I got out she was singing the song from "Tammy" which I've never seen or heard but pretty much goes like "Tammy tammy tammy's in love" I don't know the melody neither did FW, so make up your own, works for us. She sang it over and over and eventually dropped off to sleep-- Maybe that's why they say not to mix liquor with pharmacueticals??
I woke her up this morning getting dressed, she stood up and said "Do you want me to take down the tree?" her eyes weren't even open yet. I almost said Yes just to see how far she'd get, but resisted the urge and tucked her back into bed. We'll see how she feels later on..

Post Christmas Post

Post Christmas blues stuck in the office nothing to do all the real accountants have the day off too but their bitches are here singing to you They paid for lunch It's so great! Thanks a bunch! I'll picture you sitting at home while I munch. Hope your heads in a vise....Crunch!

Addendum-the preceding lines have been reformatted to reduce the impact to poetry sensitive individuals. All of me here at Kings Gardens strive to prevent materials or situations that can make anyone feel uncomfortable.

Thank you for your time.

First Christmas present

Yesterday I got home and the first package of the year was delivered and sitting I the snow underneath my mailbox. Surprises of surprises it was from my Dad. He never is on time.. And this year he's early?? Weird, anyway I open it up, it's from the Noble Collection, a goblet covered in scenes of King Arthur. So dad on his short visit (lasted 3 hours) actually saw enough of my house to pick something that fits in really well with the collection of homemade armor, tapestries of Jerusalem, and a few other crusade era trappings and relics.
Scary that he was so spot on. So now I have to send him something. I guess I don't have to, but in this era of reconciliation we're having, I would feel odd. Then again maybe he's just buttering me up for something. This is two nice things he's done for me in the same year.
I guess I'm stuck on the same question...
Did his sickness and near death change him?
Is he still dying and trying to make amends?
Am I overanalysing a Christmas gift?
Will I ever be able to consider him a normal person and not have to question the motive of every gesture?

I called him after I got the package, sure that he had checked the tracking numbers on the package online and knew it was delivered. He talks like people play chess, other people not me. He takes his time, weighing the intent and tone of every word before he says it. It was always so scary to be threatened by him when I was younger, you could tell he had thought out his threats. I talk like all ADD \ hyperactive person, I jump subjects repeat conjunctions until it seems I'm stuttering. I talk about things I don't mean to reveal then cover it up by talking nonsense. I can't stand the long pauses, he should know that, it's painful for me to sit there holding the phone. I drank a martini for the first part of our conversation pacing the whole length of the house, walking faster as he goaded me with his silence. I gently stirred my next martini so he wouldn't hear the ice rattling when I shook it. It's probably rude to need to be drunk to talk to your own father, otherwise I just get short, abrupt and try to hang up the phone right away. Will we ever just talk? We kind of talked when he came to visit, but we didn't talk about anything important. Just hashed up old memories. I made him an esspresso, had one myself at 1am while we were still talking. I wasn't drunk, and the novelty of him actually being in the same state as me was enough to keep the conversation flowing.
Well thanks for the gift. I said it on the phone, but I kinda mean it. It's been 20 something years since I got a gift from you with any thought behind it. Some hint that you actually know something about me. I don't know what that means to me.

Aside from the loss of a cane, and the horrible bruise on my left shin, I had one of the best nights sleep last night. Turns out too- much gin makes Alan go a little weird. I was dreaming pretty intensely last night and woke up to FW's surprised shriek, a loud cracking noise and a sharp pain in my shin.
FW says I woke her up getting out of bed, she figured I was getting a drink, but when I got down on my stomach and low-crawled out of the bedroom, she figured I was sleepwalking again. She followed me quietly (bad idea to wake up a sleepwalker) into the living room where I picked up a black cane out of the rack and then crawled behind the Christmas tree, knocking off several (but not breaking) any of the ornaments. She was too scared to come close so she called to me across the room asking me what I was doing. I'm going to write out the conversation she said we had because it's way funnier that way:
"What are you doing Alan?" her
"Damn you! Keep your voice down or they'll hear us."
"Who will?"
"The Saxons are at the door and you stand there calling to them! Mumble mumble mumble "She just couldn't understand that part.
"Who's at the door?" she started giggling
"The Saxons! Do you stand for him?"
"For who?" more giggling.
"The king! Mumble mumble"
"Alan, come back to bed"giggle"you're going to knock over the tree. And your not wearing any clothes"
Right then the Saxons must have attacked because FW says I jumped out from behind the tree ran towards the front door screaming and brandishing the cane, so she did the only thing she could think of, she tipped the large metal can which hold my other canes (I'm a collector) a didgeridoo, and two large bamboo poles (not sure where those came from but I have them) into my path in an effort to stop my mad dash outside. Now it's probably for the best, it was about 6 degrees out and snowing at 4 this morning It was a bad idea because I ran into the assorted implements of destruction and after breaking one of the canes, and almost breaking my shin; I hit the floor. Hard.
Now fw wants a video camera for Christmas. Hell no.

I was just reminded of a dear friend..
I had just broken up with a long term serious GF and my friend (call her K) had just broken up with her insane but serious relationship with her bf. I knew them both and didn't like K's BF mainly because they had the "Billy Bob thorton(?) Angelina jolie" scary ass relationship. She was super attractive and we had been friends for a few years, I was destitute nd depressed so we started hanging out, just getting high talking, she tried to teach me how to paint, I tried to teach her how to write haiku' without counting syllables on her fingers.
We never took it far, I was weird inside and incapable of anything intimate. We had a really good couple days though, managed to stir up some trouble. We fed off each other a little-
We took my new car (which I couldn't pay for that the repo man was looking for) on mad drives through the pine barrons, sliding through blind curves and stop signs barely short of suicidal. We altered our perceptions and when I was chased around the block by a cop (I'd thrown rocks at him) she helped another friend hide me, and eventually helped him sit on me and hold me down until I was back in my mind.
After a few days of this mad behavior we slowed down, started feeling a little better, we started talking about the exes and what we felt was missing.. We hugged a lot, and finally rejoined the rest of our friends to find the world had been watching us. One of my best friends had dated her before and I think he felt I betrayed him by sleeping with her(which I didn't), using her as a rebound, whatever.. I never explained it to him, I didn't think he deserved and explanation, we were both just hurting, everything as flying apart for us and we sort of scared ourselves back into caring about life.. How could I explain it so he could see it.
My ex had been watching also- she probably got hurt more by that than anything, I never explained to her because I was scared of how much I wanted her back, I tried to hide from her and eventually moved out of state to avoid her (far out of state). We sporadically e-mail each other now, but I almost died the first time I saw her name in my e-mail folder.
Anyway different story..
The rest of my friends figured we rebounded off each other, I got some crap for using my friends like that, I tried denying it to a very close friend, he still doesn't believe me so I had to finally ignore them all..
Still think it's none of their business, but I wonder if she ever told her side..

Every time someone in my family (brothers, sisters, friends) meets one of my girlfriends, (or some new friend of mine, or someone I work with, or some stranger in a bar) they find it necessary to bring out the same head deflating story. So in the interest of me not having to sit through endless snorting and giggling and oh so hysterical exaggerations, I am showcasing this story for everyone else in the world. That way if they start to tell it, someone will say "oh I already heard that. It's like an urban legend" and the curse of this childhood trauma will be lifted.

When I was between 10 and 12 my Dad used to always take us camping as a family. We always invited a friend or two to go with us, mainly so we would not Bug Pops so much. One such trip landed us in PA in a state forest camping with my best friend along. We were charged with getting water to bring back to the campsite. For this we had a large blue 6 gallon water container. I was a scrawny thing and couldn't really carry 6 gallons of water farther than a foot or two, and though my best friend was strong enough to carry it, the water pump was almost a 1/2 mile from the campsite. Dad never drove anywhere once we were camping, I think if we had lost a limb and were bleeding out he'd slap a turnstone on and try to pack us out, not even thinking of driving..
Anyway..
We had a aluminum furniture dolly we were using to carry the water jug, it worked great on the road, but the tiny hard plastic wheels caught on every twig, rock, or root we passed. Finally my friend got sick of fighting with the stupid carte and we unhooked it and he carried it the rest of the way. The jug was attached by a bungee cord, when I took the jug off I didn't secure the cord and it was dragging along behind me as I towed the cart.
Let me pause here to say that as a boy I was petrified of snakes...
Nothing was scarier, not even big bad Dad..
So I hear a slithering noise and look back and what do I see? A speckled snake *(never mind the color) that was chasing me. I screamed a very high pitched pre puberty perfect soprano scream and took off running. The snake followed me! It was keeping up. I was sobbing and gasping and screaming "snake!! A snake!!" leaving my friend well behind me I headed straight for camp. My mother "the nurse" had heard my scream and was on her way towards the path in the woods when I burst into the campsite. Instinctively I ran behind my mother, I knew she'd protect me. From around the other side of her legs I saw the snake circle around her! Still chasing me! I screamed another horrifying scream of terror and ran a few circles around my Mother before she grabbed me and stopped me, pointed at the snake and .....LAUGHED!
No. I did not let go of the cart.
Yes. I was almost eaten by the "Bungee Cobra"
Yes. Everyone laughed. For hours. And Hours.
Yes, I did have nightmares for weeks about being chased by snakes.
Yes, I did have nightmares about my parents watching me get bitten by snakes and laughing.
So, anybody else want to tell this story? Let me know I'll send you a copy..

I was reading Sinkpig talking about AvP-
When I was 7-ish and my older brother was 9-10ish we went to see ET in the theatre. I don't remember a damn thing about the movie except I had three-d glasses and probably an insane sugar buzz. Now if we had gone with our parental units I would not have been given any sugar, and my older brother might not hate me.
So, he got scared by the man/men?? With the jingly keys and actually hid under his seat. Pretty normal behavior if you don't have an evil little brother. Aside from most of the movie pointing at him and laughing like the redheaded bastard in "A Christmas Story"
At the end of the movie he twisted my arm up in a chickenwing and made me swear not to tell a soul he was crying. I probably deserved but still...
So on the car ride back home good old Dad made a few attempts to get me to sit down "Sit down before I knock you down" "I'll stop this car and sell you to a hobo if you don't sit down now!" etc.. Then asked a simple question, like he always did when he had yelled and wanted us to know he wasn't mad anymore. I don't recall the actual conversation, but based on any other sugar high I've had here goes:
How was the movie guys? (dad)
It had aliens! (me)
and spaceships and and people and and they went trick or treating and and and ******(brothers name) cried like a girl and they flew and and I had some jelly beans and and ***** was hiding under his seat and a plant died but came back to life. Can they do that? I had sunglasses and and can we see it again..
My big brother stared out the window fuming, dad glared at my brother in the mirror and mumbled curses about the "stupid effing neighbors giving a 7 year old candy" I probably just sat there vibrating in place.
Now for the funny part.. (Family history is always funny..)
My brother gave me a fat lip and a wedgie for telling...
My dad went out the next day and bought a life sized e-t doll and hid it in older brothers closet., then moved it under the bed, then a dark corner of the basement where we stored our canning things.
Funny he wasn't scared of Et at the actual movie, but damned if he didn't almost wet his pants the first time he found it in the closet, and under the bed, and I think he actually did the time it attacked him in the dark basement. Mother ended up removing ET's vitals and limbs with her scissors, she had older brother carry it's head to my father with a paring knife stuck in it to prove he'd kill it, maybe scare dad into thinking he had created a psychopath.
Dad only said "It's about time. You better clean that knife and put it away before your mother sees that."

I am way behind. I am several days behind on my work. My boss asked me how I was coming on some project: I grunted, glared at him, then went to the breakroom and got some more coffee. I start a little vacation tonight until next wednesday, my little Bro is coming to visit. I spent the last two days writing part 6, and part 7 to my ongoing saga of This Guy. I am still not working right now. So being behind is mostly my fault. Our department has not replaced the last 3 people who quit, therefore being overworked, and thus inclined not to try too hard is mostly the company's fault. i f I actually caught up on all the things i should have done by the end of today, there is a pool of open projects waiting for someone to be free to do them. Not me.
I'm tired, I've been at work 13 hours a day 5 days a week for the last couple weeks minus thanksgiving. I haven't been really working so much as treading water.
I think at the end of today I will pile everything I have up in a big pile and hide it under my desk, so When I come in next week nothing will fall over and kill me. I wish someone would go through all this worthless crap on my desk and do it for me while I'm gone.
So in case anyone wondered why my job description changed from Slave Bitch to Slave Bitch's whore and footrest. Now you know!
At * tonight when I finally get to leave this place I'm going to jump into the air and clik my heels together like an old toyota commercial.. Then When I pick myself up off the ground I'm going to go have a Martini.
Cheers!

I can close my eyes along with the music and see smokey shaded naked women dancing slowly in and out of black shadow. Parts become visible and obvious then fade back into nothing. My mind adds a strobe and I'm reviewing ever lover, every distraction, She, they move moans cries not reaching, trying to writhe sinuously but are pinned down, trapped by the bright white. The strobe must leave, it's too nightmarish, too much like an advert for playboy only the woman in my mind's eye ranges from the thinnist waif with ribs showing and pink rope marks crossing wrists and chest sweating panting with Beethoven, to an hourglass figures that would make michaelangelo drool, breasts heavy and swaying slowly in time to "nights in white satin". The figures turn and long black hair cascades down white flesh almost touching her cleft, morphing into a short blond spike that fits so well above the thick black collar with bright silver rings. Knees bend, twist, revealing secrets which remain too dark for more than my own memory to make out. Eyes black and brown look at me over white freckled shoulder, over waves of black hair, bright green peirce me through strawberry blonde curls, sky blue taunts through thick black mascara, all beckoning calling. She, they fall to their knees, knowing how to draw me, reach me with sultry, perky, full lips that never call my name, but murmur about the silk of their skin brushed over my own silk, iron.

How long is it normal to crave cigarettes after quitting smoking? It's been over 2 years now and I'm going through an intense wave of nicotine desire. I suppose I don't care about the tar or the nicotine, I miss smoking. The feel of menthol smoke biting the lungs on a crisp fall(?) morning. The smell of fresh lit cigarette when you just touch a lit wooden match to the end before you even have a chance to draw in. The spicy taste of dark cherry tobacco smoke in the evenings beside a fire, rolling the thick pipe smike back and forth across my tongue. When I quit I tried exercise, food, reading, even chopping wood to help quit, unfortunately for me drinking worked the best, I put more weight on from the 6-10 beers per day than I would have by eating a donut every time i had a craving.
Now that I have my drinking back under control- (only martini's please, and keep them cold and plentiful) my weight is starting to drop and my clothes fit again.
Trying to be in shape, be healthy is so against every one of my urges. I was made to defile myself, I'm good at it.
I want to eat big greasy strips of roast pig with my hands, drink flagons of dark rich beer until I'm full then switch to some sort of distilled liquor to help me go to sleep, the whole time puffing away on a smorgasbord of nature, stripping down and rutting like animals, no consequence, no future, just fulfilling the desire for more, more of everything.

ha ha- i was just in subway in line behind some lady- she ordered their special new sandwich, the guy goes "what do you want on it?"
"just like in the picture" and points over his head at the 2ft by 2ft picture of the sandwich
So he adds lettuce, then goes back to the picture, comes back puts on some olives, goes back to the picture, and so on...
finally he calls the guy at the register over points at the sign "What kind of sauce is that?"
Register guy shrugs and walks away, lady ordering is so pissed she walks out. The guy looks at me and shrugs, I don't think he was being obnoxious on purpose. He starts to push the sandwich to the side.
So I tell him- "wait - just throw some mayo on that one, I'll take it."

Still hate subway, but man cannot live on MCD's alone, in fact man probably can't live on mcd's