Act 2 - The Return

Main Entry: dra·ma

Pronunciation: 'drä-m&, 'dra-
Function: noun

3a : a state, situation, or series of events involving interesting or intense conflict of forces

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HB has gotten back together with his ex - sort of. This is the ex that left him for a guy half her age, then called the cops on HB - all that crazy bullshit. I'm not sure what to think of this situation. I got the feeling that HB really wanted me to meet her, but I was pretty reluctant. I can't get the image of him crying over her out of my head. But, I relented and I met her (briefly) last week. She seemed really nice, but afterwards, HB told me they'd had two bottles of champagne before I got there. Hmmm... Earlier in the week HB told me how adversely alcohol affected her and how she said she was going to stop drinking. He even promised her he would quit if she did. (This seems to be a common theme with these friends of mine, doesn't it?)

I guess the guy she left him for turned out to be a complete psychopath. He's been leaving threatening messages, and all kinds of crazy crap. At one point, I think he made a threat to kill her and her ex (not HB, another one) if he found out she'd gone over to the ex's house. HB is trying to help her get stuff together for a restraining order or assault charge - I'm not really sure. The most cracked out thing though, is this: Today I called and asked what they were doing. He said they were at a friend's house getting ready to BBQ. I asked which friend, and he said they were at her ex's. (Okay, I'm getting confused here too - not the psychopath ex, but the other one - the one who's house she was not supposed to go to lest the psychopath kill everyone... I think...) Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah - the bar-be-cue. He said, "Yeah, we're going to be here for a while, do you want to come over?" Well, let me think about that for a half a millisecond. . .

Oh.

Hell.

NO!

I mean, I like a little chaos - that's fine. Someone drinking too much and puking all night? No problem! Someone using a little (I said a little) white powder? No problem! A boy and girl getting in an argument and someone gets slapped? No problem! But THREATS TO KILL? I got a little problem with that y'all! I like my chaos of the "misdemeanor" type - I've gotta draw the line at FELONY chaos!

Always,

S

an understanding

Do you remember when you laid your head upon his shoulder and he said she’s safe in my arms where she belongs? Remember his eyes, green glass, his young old face and you laid your head upon his shoulder and he said. A sleeping young old face, you paused - a thought, a passing of time insignificant overwhelming. Do you remember when he told you that you belonged to him? And you said? Said what.

I belong to me

Do you remember when you laid your head upon his shoulder and you said I miss you? What more did you say but not say. His eyes – remember, blue cold warm water, remember? And did you say – can you not remember? Said everything in nothing. Close in, far, away. Cold warm again you laid your head upon his shoulder. Did you say nothing? Said what.

I understand

Do you remember when you laid your head upon his shoulder. So many times now far more than infinity. Safety and comfort. What have you ever said? So much more and so much less than infinity. And his eyes – those eyes – familiar comfort. Blue-green changing with the day night sky. Safe in those arms where you belong. And you watch the passing of the day night sky so much longer than infinity. And what did you say? Said what.

I will stay

Recollections of a Conversation

Charlie's. The oldest gay bar in Austin. I can't decide if I like this place or not. A mixed clientele - beautifully adolescent twinks, hot go-go boys in their skivvies, regular joes, and skeevy old farts - your basic gay bar scene.

Last time, H was talking to one of the Skeevies - some drunken fart he'd helped into a cab back when he was working the door at Oilslick's. OldFart was telling us how he "throws money around all these places all the time" and how he'd "put in a good word" to the manager/owner/whatever about Good Samaritan H, who he called a "good man". Mmm Hmm.

H was doing his thing, which is workin' it - and OldFart was just having a great old time talking to Beauty Boy. Meanwhile OldFart was also being hustled by a deaf fellow - who probably wasn't deaf and possibly wasn't even gay, but just wanted to partake of the free drinks OldFart was supplying. (YHA - in the role of "The Girlfriend" and H enjoyed a vodka tonic and a Jack and Coke, respectively, courtesy of OldFart.) OldFart was also trying to hustle the bartender - a youngun' with bleached spikes and dimples. (What time do you get off work, sweet thing? In an hour. We should go get a steak, me and you. A steak? At ten at night?)

OldFart again mentioned putting in a good word for H (who, by the way, was using his gaybar/drugdealer alias "He Spent" of course...) H replied by saying "I thank you sir, I will tell you, I do drink, but I never use drugs and I try to stay out of trouble. YHA should have gotten a fucking ACADEMY AWARD at that point, my friends. I did NOT laugh uncontrollably. I did NOT roll my eyes so far back into my head as to be irretrievable. I did NOT shotgun vodka and tonic out my nose. Oh no, I just smiled sweetly, like a good girlfriend would, and nodded my pretty little (reeling) head.

Then for some reason, OldFart started getting nervous. He told H that he couldn't give him a phone number, and that he couldn't call for "certain reasons". See he was affiliated with - or rather, involved with - or no - yes, affiliated - mind you, HE WAS NOT A COP - affiliated with someth... well, he couldn't say. But he did stress again that he WAS NOT A COP. Then he made us promise that we wouldn't tell anyone we'd seen him there - in the gay bar. In one of the many gay bars that he "throw(s) money all around... all the time" as he had previously mentioned. The reason? You see, dear OldFart just liked coming to gay bars to "make friends" - nothing else, because "You see, I'm STRAIGHT." H replied "Hey, we're all straight in here." Something clicked in OF's brain - ('we're all straight', 'this is my girlfriend') and with a horrified look, he implored, "Are you straight? Because, well, actually, I'm BI. Are... you Bi?"

So yeah. That's Charlie's...



Always,

S

What kind of fool puts windows in the roof?

Russell J. Heater

September 17, 1926 - April 20, 1990

I took the day off work so I could have some "alone time" today. Planned on going out to the cemetery at Fort Sam - that kind of stuff.

DxB went in to work for about a half-hour, then came home to tell me that he wanted to move out. (Here we go again.) I was really in NO mood, so things got interesting quickly. I would give you the details, but frankly, you've heard them all before and actually, I kind of don't remember what they were. I wasn't even sure what happened by the time he went back to work. I mean, I wasn't sure if he was going to come back home, or what. Apparently sometime during this "fight" he remembered that today was my "bad day" and he kind of backed off a bit.

So I head out to San Antonio, stopping to pick up red carnations for my friend BernBean's dad's grave, orange roses for Mom, and the longest yellow glads I've ever seen for Dad. I get to Fort Sam and suprisingly, I found BernBean's Dad with little problem. (I always use his stone as a visual line-of-sight-thing to find my parents' spot.) I'm sitting there kind of being sad and missing the 'rents, and I notice that the oak tree that was planted when Dad was planted is doing great. It's big and full and shades Mom, Dad and their next door neighbors so nicely.

Now, the sky was a little wonky all afternoon - horrific heat and some cold front moving through - that can mean big trouble... So, I'm still sitting there, under that oak, when I glanced over to my left and BLAM! A HUGE lightning bolt shot out of the sky and slammed the field next to the cemetery. The ensuing thunderclap was instantaneous, meaning it was time to get the F out of there. (I thought about how ironic it would be to get turned into a charred cinder while sitting on my parents' grave... Hell, no need for a burial, just water my ash into the dirt and carve my name in the stone!)

By the time I got home, Doppler radar was basically one huge red/magenta mass over the entire town of San Marcos. I put the Z in the garage just in time for the hail to start. At first it was small - dime size or so. A few minutes later it was about quarter-size. DxB and I (he did come home after all) sat there staring at the goddamned SKYLIGHTS in our ceiling just waiting for one of those suckers to shatter. But, the hail got smaller again and finally subsided. I looked out the window and got a bit puzzled... the storm had been moving southeast and the rain and hail was falling from a northern angle. Now (that the hail had stopped) the rain was coming from the opposite direction! Holy crap! The trees were swirling like crazy and I thought for sure it was a tornado. (It wasn't.) Then the hail started. Again. But this time it was much more fun. Golf-ball plus size! Yee-haw, welcome to Texas.

Remarkably, that big hail was relatively soft, so nothing really got damaged. Maybe a few dents in the Honda, a few leaves and roses beaten up. We felt pretty lucky. When the storm finally passed, we drove down the road to check out the damage. Once again, Holy Crap! Not more than a half mile from out house there was incredible damage. Our neighbors had trees completely denuded by hail, house windows broken, cars dented and windowshields shattered. It was amazing. I have no idea how we missed that shit, but I'm pretty sure the gods are just fucking with us and we will be on the receiving end of a major shitstorm next time!

Always,

S

Fortunata

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,

Had a bad cold, nevertheless

Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,

With a wicked pack of cards.

Here, said she,

Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,

(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)

Here is Belladonna, The Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations.

Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,

And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,

Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,

Which I am forbidden to see.

I do not find The Hanged Man.

Fear death by water.

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot (1922)



LIBRA (4/19/06): It may be time to give something up to get something better. Sacrifice to grow. Someone in your life is afraid that the more independent you become, the less you'll need them. Encourage that person to find their own way, and not to be afraid as you both fully develop as separate people.

Hmmm...


Always,

S

Abracadabra?

Okay, I recovered everything (I think!) that disappeared from here yesterday. Whether this is a good thing or not remains to be seen. All I know is I'm very tired of thinking and self-reflection, and I refuse to do it any more.

For now...


Always,
S

I hope you can see this because I'm doing it as hard as I can

Ahhh-haaa...

Everything disappeared!

Let's just say that this week has SUCKED. Or rather, last week. This week is just starting, I guess. But I'm quite sure it will suck just as hard (if not harder) than last week.

I feel like taking the "fuck" counter up a notch or so...

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

That should about do it for now.

Always,

S

Like a fucked up face

You can always tell where you are by the way the road looks. Like I Just know that I been to this place before. I Just know that I been stuck here like this one fuckin' time before, you know that? There ain't no other road on earth that looks like this road. I mean, exactly like this road. One of a kind. Like someone's face. Like a fucked up face... Once you see it, even for a second, you remember it, and you better not forget it, you gotta remember people and who they are, right? Friends and enemies. You gotta remember the road and where it is too... - Mike Waters, My Own Private Idaho

The thing they don't tell you - the thing you don't learn until it's too late to do you any good - is that the road is a circle.

Alright fine you wanna be in a band fine. Go ahead. Play everynight. Play three times a night! Don't just dick around the same coffee house for five years. Don't dick around with her; or with me. I mean try at something for once in your life, do something about it. But you know what? You better do it now and you better do it fast because the world doesn't owe you any favors. - Lelaina Pierce, Reality Bites

This weekend, fourteen years ago, I moved to Houston. Fourteen. Amazing. Things were much brighter then - sparkling - was the word that was used yesterday. We lived like classic Gen-Xer's. Overeducated, underpaid twentysomethings - not really interested in "making a difference" - just trying to make it. We were so confused, so disinterested, so blissfully disgruntled. And what's different now - fourteen years later? Overeducated? Underpaid? Confused, disinterested, disgruntled? What do you think?

Always,

S

A Telling Prophecy

Appearances are often deceiving

That's what the cookie told me today (04/10/06).

Now I'm not usually one to believe in cookies or other such nonsense, but perhaps I should have paid closer attention to my horoscope back on 10/17/05:

LIBRA: They're far too impulsive for you to even consider a long-term relationship. Right? Well, if it weren't for the fact that they've already made their way into your heart, that might actually be true. But now what?

Unfortunately the stars forgot to point out a few things. Like this:

But it's not like I couldn't figure that out for myself, you know? I mean, "Do you want to do a bump with me?" is not usually the kind of pick-up line I hear (10/22/05).

And that day (11/14/05) when He said He'd call at six, and He called at six - I think that was actually the only time He did something he promised - do you know what I was thinking? Of course you do. What else could I have been thinking?

Do you believe in signs? As I spoke to Him on the phone that day, getting directions to His house, that big moth flew into my garage. I ran out screaming, of course, but the spider that lived in the light fixture jumped out and snared that moth. It fluttered in it's death throes and I watched the show standing just outside the door.

How fitting, I thought at the time.

And now? The dessicated shell of the moth lies in the recycling bin under the light. Nearly colorless now, just a chitinous form, but still maintaining the shape that brings out irrational fears in me. The spider is still there, living in the light. And now almost half a year into this I still haven't figured out who was the spider and who was the moth.

But there I was, and again two days later, and again the next day. That day. That was to be the day. Funny, I didn't even care. I knew what I was doing. (Sort of.) A lack of planning meant certain things didn't quite work out. Unfinished business, He called it.

And there was our mistake. Because on that day I was just some girl. But then two days later, in the cold sweat palsy of withdrawl, something changed. I held Him up, standing there in between the kitchen and the living room, me leaning against the bar. "If I stay here holding you I'll..." and He trailed off. That was the moment. I became more than just some girl. And the three words that would plague us for the next 140 days were uttered by Him for the first time.

Goddamnit.

And when the business got finished (12/03/05) it was too late. This wasn't going to be what I thought it was. (Or was it?) How complicated things can get, and how quickly. But I was free to do what I wanted. One more unencumbered moment (12/08/05) and a week later I would send myself to hell and back.

There is only one plan and it involves this... The Screw of Damnation!
I found it behind the Armoire...
of Despair.

When I decided that it was time (12/15/05) - or rather, when I backed myself into a corner - I made the decision, but didn't even come close to sticking to it. (12/28/05, 1/15/06, 2/1/06).

But I finally had enough of my own stupidity and I ended things. Or so I thought. The day was rather accidental (2/14/06). And four days later there she was. And eight days after that there I was, in tears like a damn fool. At my friend's house, the house where it all started. And there I made my declaration, which I stuck to this time - at least I stuck to part of it.

In between then and now there have been uspets, false starts, hatred, love, jealousy - everything so stupid, so foolish, so unbecoming. In a fit of emotion, and for the first time, that phrase came squeaking from my crying maw (3/05/06). But the day I changed, really, really changed was when my dear friend said, "Which one of the four girls you're hustling is calling now?" That - and I took myself off the list (3/19/06).

Off.

And I said to Him, "I don't want to be one of them - I want to be the friend who's laughing at them."

I tried to keep a friendship but I know that won't work. I want to keep the last time, it was such a good time, in my memory. Everything was right. I made, in my own mind, an atonement, and I was happy three times over (4/05/06). I almost ruined it two days later, and though there was a fight, I'm not giving over.

He has been in my phone as "EID", "Lost Cause", "Prevaricator", "DO NOT CALL", and finally, "Hustler". It's like an awareness developed over time, that caller ID.

Hustler. That's a name He hates. Somehow I have managed to hustle the hustler a little bit. But experience wins every time. My best is to show that despite the rough handling, the package is undamaged.

It's not like I wasn't warned. And warned repeatedly.

I thought this would be fun.

I thought I was smart.

I thought I was resilient.

Guess I was wrong about a lot of things.

At least someone will get some enjoyment out of all this:

Always,

S