Still working on the same story. It turns out it is about my dad but mostly it is about me which is not much of a surprise since I'm pretty much a self-involved schmuck, but at least I'm pretty! It is kind of weird that I've been working on this piece for a few days and I haven't gotten sick of it which is usually what happens unless I get something out right away so I hope this is a good sign because I could use some encouragement or at least a sign that I'm not just whacking off here thinking I could cut it as a writer of fiction. My teachers and friends always encourage me but they are, let's face it, a bunch of jerks. Heh. They aren't really jerks, I just want to think of them that way because it makes it easier for me to tear myself down if I think no decent person would love me. Fun stuff, eh?

My shrink would have a field day with that last paragraph. She is always trying to read meaning into my behavior or to find patterns or to "understand" me. Man, what a stone cold drag. Anyway, she's pretty cool and there is a certain amount of "transference" wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Just kidding. Or not. Who knows? Half the time I don't even know when I am joking or not until someone asks me something like "is that true?" and I realize it is way off from the truth and I must have been "joking" or for those of you who are a little more pessimistic: lying. Sheesh. Picky, picky. You and your "truth"...

My shrink would have loved my performance today. One of the things we are trying to deal with is my utter inability to form normal relationships with other human beings. I've gotten pretty good at forming relationships with abstract concepts like "left" and "3" and we almost never fight and I've had one or two really great flings with physical objects like my futon, but that little tryst is on the rocks and I may buy myself a new one soon.

Anyway, I was on the way back from lunch - I ate at a Chinese restaurant where none of my co-workers ever go so I can read by myself instead of pretending that I am interested in their lives or enjoy their so-called jokes (Still wonder why I can't form friendships?) - and I hear someone make a wolf whistle at me and I flash backed to high school thinking it was some jock about to beat the crap out of me but I decide that I'll turn around before peeing myself in fear because I'm wearing my "big boy" pants and don't want to ruin them and it turns out that I'm not in high school anymore and jocks only verbally abuse me instead of throwing rocks at me and the guy who whistled at me isn't some steroid case at all but one of my co-workers who we'll call JB. He's driving along and he offers me a ride the rest of the way to work.

Now JB is a great guy. I actually find his jokes funny and laugh at them genuinely rather than out of politeness or pity and we have a lot of common interests, so what do I say but "No thanks. I'd rather walk" because I didn't want to ruin my shrink's theory that I tend to push people away from me and create a sort of "stand offish" posture that makes people think I'm not interested in their company. Maybe this is why he hangs out with just about everybody in our department but me, huh? I mean, these guys all share rides to work and trade CDs with each other and go to shows together and their wives and girlfriends know each other and I just hang out at my apartment and order pizza and think I'm a wild man because I put off washing the dishes, but I have a dishwasher anyway so it ain't much of a thing if I don't wash the dishes. Feh.

But The Cardigans are being piped from my iPod to my stereo so things ain't too bad. Yeah, you read that right; I got my iPod to work. Take that forces of mediocrity! I may not have a lot of money or friends or social skills or inner peace or good looks or pleasant smells or nice clothes but I can make an iPod work and it only took me a couple of days.

Anyway, I wanted to write about those jerks in the finance department but I'm tired and I need to go to the fridge to get another beer so it will have to wait until tomorrow or until insomnia drives me back to this here inter web thingy.

PS - The Cardigan's cover of Black Sabbath's Iron Man is truly sublime.

Reading Still working on Mabel Stark. She hasn't gotten married again, but there is still time before I hit page 200.
Wishing I hadn't spent all night ripping CDs
Plotting ah, forget it. No one would notice anyway. Jerks.