My my
my. We ended up going to Hollywood to walk on Santa Monica
and just be a part of the other freaks that got dressed up
and were walking around drunk, fucked up or on some other
kind of drug. IT was truly a site to be seen "Even better
than Gay Pride!" Florent exclaimed.
I have
been working a lot lately. I did a website for Diane
Relli. Some Italian chick that actually saw gallerywholesale.com
who is staying where Buzzy works wanted to give her friend
a nice site. When I told her it was $100 she was beside herself
and started giving me shit about how expensive it is yada
yada yada. I told her I was there 6 hours and I wasn't going
to take less than $60 and that included the name of the domain
name.
I think
people are morons. They don't realize that it takes a lot
of time to get things looking just right. Snap it's done!
Enough
with the shit. Now with the candy.
We have
a new place to stay M-F on another boat in the Marina. I really
want to move around and see what's going on around this place.
The dude renting his boat out is named Phillip and he is French
as well. He said he might take us sailing sometime.
Some
guys came in from the ocean and brought in some fresh Mackerel.
I cut off their heads, killing them, gutted them and tossed
them on the grill. Florent is always talking about how much
he would love to cook up fresh fish but he was horrified for
the rest of the day when he watched me cut off one of their
heads. "Was it still living?"
I had
4 of them and he went right to sleep. I ended up tossing the
rest of the fish in the ocean after it was cooked out of guilt
and because I was through eating it and I knew I wouldn't
want more. As I was grilling it out I started eating the skin
and my nerves felt like they were filling up with those omega-3
oils.
I made
BANK finally. Not enough to make an overdue car payment or
insurance but enough to pay for the boat and some supplies
for the next couple of weeks.
I hate
waking up in the morning. I am a monster. I wish there were
no people on the planet when I woke up. I take it out on Florent
and he takes it out on me. It hurts to breathe and typically
when I wake up I am in searing pain and come awake with a
gasp. I take some Neurontin and then the nerves in my hand
are settled. And I don't feel bloated and fuzzily fat.
All those
costumes... Dorothy's, cowboys, gay Angles, the operation
game (Florent's pick), wings, and 2 Vicodan and a blister
later we were high from driving up Sunset after walking so
much. The most horrifying thing I saw, however, was when these
cute little Japanese girls dressed like little school girls
were accosted by these stupid drunk jocks. One of them took
one of the women and picked her up from behind and started
humping her. I was taken aback and just found myself mesmerized
from watching her friend hit him trying to get him off of
her. It was not funny but all the other pricks that guy was
with started laughing. I was sad I didn't get it on video
because that might fully convey the truth over the lie that
women are really free.
Buzzy
is going to a thing tomorrow in Sherman or Thousand oaks.
We went to storage last week and I hunted up my beads and
have made 6 necklaces. They are all kind of pretty and I am
happy with my work. I hope that other people are too. I would
like to make a couple of hundred bucks... um... let me think...
how much would I like to make? I would like to make about
$450. That would be nice. Then maybe I could pay some car
insurance.
There
is to much to write about. What else has been going on? I
forgot! Buzzy just got off work and is making her way back
home. We have to find her a new job so that she can afford
to stay here.
Let's
see... I took Tyler to the airport the other day. He's going
to see his dad in Utah. He tried calling me the next day.
Rita was gone for a while and we got to stay at her place.
That was really nice while it lasted. I got to take care of
my hair, my face, my feet, my pits.
I went
into a store yesterday in Venice. I tried on this cute "little"
dress that fits tight around my rib cage. I came out with
my tits bulging out and not one of the men dared to look too
close when I asked them all "Does this look OK?"
They all looked at the ground and were nodding their heads.
I knew they had to go home and bust a nut over that one. The
clerk only charged me $10. I am sure he would have given it
to me... but I didn't push it.
It was
another PTS. I am so tired and so much wanting to be free of
HIM.
It's now
been 4 days since he bathed and today it was all my fault because
after listening to him bitch and bitch and bitch I finally found
my car keys and did my God Damn Errands that never seem to get
done when HE is around.
He lied
to me and told me he was going to clean the fucking pig sty
a week ago.
There I
go sounding like my prick of a father but when you have chicken
rotting in the fridge among other things it really gets too
fucking annoying especially with not having a bath for 4 days.
"But
you ran off with my cleaning supplies"
"There
was a lot of shit on the boat you could have used."
"But
you had my razor." Tick tock tick tock...
"There
are several razors laying around here. You couldn't use one?"
"Bullshit
bulls shit bullshit... "
"I
want to be cuddled."
"I'm
not cuddling you when you PU. You know the rules."
On and
on and on. I came home and the calendar that I had made for
this month to see how many smiley faces (like what my mom used
to do to us) was ripped off the mirror and then the Christmas
lights Damian had gotten me are now demolished. I threw his
fucking stinky shirt into the harbor I was so pissed and I couldn't
quit screaming at him with a fury only a PMSing teenager should
have.
My God.
The sad thing is I knew I was going to divorce my first husband
before I even met him. I knew I was going to drop weight and
then leave him and after that... I know a lot of things. I see
things and try to ignore others but it doesn't really ever turn
out that way.
Women's
shelters and what have you... I wished I were dead today. He
told me he hated me and I said "Then great. Now we can
leave one another because we hate one another"
"But
I can't do anything when you leave like that. I worry about you
bullshit bullshit."
I went
to Sally's to get some hair color and finally someone really
complimented me on my hair. She loved how I have the highlights
(blond) mixed in with the low lights. It made me happy because
it seems like she is the first person to recognize this.
Oh... and
I have to tell you more of why Halloween was so awesome. I was
doing customer service and this dude that works at Mattel sent
me over a Betty Boop and a Christmas Barbie. I almost started
crying. It's been a long ass time that I have gotten any treats
out of the blue. It also pains me to a certain degree that someone
out there can appreciate me more than when I come home. He almost
made me sad because he thought more of f me in one moment than
my father ever bothers to think of me.
I have
been thinking about that. How my father could and would be so
cruel lining us up in a line so we could feel the reverberations
of his screaming as he just stood there and yelled and yelled
and yelled at us. I thought about how that used to make me feel
and felt guilty for doing that to Florent but then again he
is not a child and he chose to sit there and tell me how I am
crazy amongst many other lines of bullshit he expects me to
believe when he knows not even I believe what he has to say
because he won't carry through his actions.
He mentioned
the fishy too and how it made him sick to even eat. I know that
I have never had a relationship quit as horrible as this one.
It's that 2 year mark where I decide if I stay or go and I know
I have to go but I will do it my way and on my time.
"It's
all about you and your disease."
Fucking
Eddy right slap dick. I'm fighting for my life and it's not
easy because right now I can find a million reasons why I should
just go off into the ocean but now I am starting to believe
more in myself each and ever day.
Wednesday
November 6, 2002
I am reading
White Oleander. It's such a strange book for me to read. First
it's set in LA and the imagery is so beautiful and the feelings
I have from reading it make me feel like I am strangely looking
at myself in a fish bowl.
I hate
the new boat. I have found something more stinky than Florent.
Last night
I got mad at him because he's such a fucking pig (is that you
dad?) that he just keeps stacking Jack in the Box wrappers and
leaves drinks in the consul so that the cups melt and leave their
juice behind. I couldn't stand it. He took some shit to storage
and I asked him where it was.
Saturday
November 9, 2002
What a crazy week. I have been so busy I can't think straight
but what else is new?
We did not celebrate our marriage romantically but slept on
the most disgusting place I have ever slept in my life. The
French bastard that we are renting the new boat from has left
a French PU that is unequivocated. It puts Florent's stinky
feet to shame.
He has a tank on his boat where the toilet flushes and he
boasts that he has not pumped the tank for 2 years. I don't
know what is worse that I can smell and taste the shit that
has stagnated on that shit hole for the last 2 years silently
brewing into the colossal stink or that Phillip is so proud
of it.
Then he made us put $150 deposit for keys that we can not
keep on us. One guy had his windshield wiper ripped off his
car while another chimed in that his boat was broken into last
week and most of his shit was taken away including his passport.
I am beside myself. I don't know what to do. I can't wait
to have an apartment and a place I can call my own. I am sick
of being dead ass broke and not having a place to keep my things.
Rising in the morning is the worst. Tasting the stench makes
me want to vomit. I can't stay in that shit hole. I would rather
sleep in my car. What a waste of money.
So now we are back to wondering WTF we are going to do.
I am sitting at a conference right now on Brain Tumors. I
am at Cedars-Sinai and a doctor is going to review my scans.
No white Sugars. They take away from adding to you immune system.
Eat good fats. Eat more organic foods. Thing I already know.
Herbs
- Hoxey Formula only available in Mexico
- Una de Gato boots the immune system
- Echinacea
- Astragalus
- Ginseng
- *Medicinal Mushrooms*
- Ginger
- Milk Thistle helps the liver and kidneys
- Traditional Chinese Medicine
Mind-Body Therapies
- Tai Chi (I guess I shouldn't have made fun of that Jackass
in Prague
- Simonton
- Relaxation
Supplements
- Co-Enzyme Q 10
- Vitamin C
- Melatonin (I used to take this to sleep) 10-50 mg
- Antineoplastin Therapy (has to be with docs) Clinical
trials
I still can't get over that we have been married 2 years.
I am going to do my best not to think that Florent and I need
to split anymore. I want to heal the wounds I have created and
move in a direction of well being and trying to bond with him.
I know that at one time (when I was more healthy) that I vowed
to love him no matter what. In my sickness, even if he can't
be who I need him to be he always loves me.
I feel that each time we are together. Being apart from him
over the last week has made me realize how much I love him.
It's been a nice break but he loves me and that's the best thing
he can do to love me.
Last week I was so pissed that he wouldn't talk to me I threw
the car into park and took the keys away from him and screamed
at him for a half an hour on Washington Blvd to get out of my
fucking car because he wouldn't tell me what he did with the
TV or the VCR.
He wouldn't budge and neither would I. I screamed and screamed
and screamed and once I cooled down enough he moved over and
let me drive us home.
We went to Rita's and I made a Shepherd's pie that was delicious.
I am like my father. Screaming at the top of my lungs because
I am not getting my way and then turning around saying I'm sorry
by making the most amazing meal. Everyone loved it. I used Trader
Joe's Spuds for the crust and tossed in beef Rita had browned.
Then the frozen peas, corn, onions, and a beef broth mixed with
corn starch to make it thick.
Monique Kieffe 310-360-1780 has a brain tumor and ovarian
Cancer.
* * *
His smell hangs on me like perfume from a warm summer night.
I smell his come around me from fulfilling his simple fantasy
of jacking him off with cream. I had never done it before and
it took less than 2 minutes before his seaman shoot straight
into the air. His over worked body is passed out sleeping from
the day.
He hit me today in my leg. We wrestled over the heater. Big
shock. And I took his thumb between my fingers and started to
pinch him. In a reaction he hit my leg. We were going to pick
up a client's computer.
I couldn't help myself. I started kicking myself free of my
purse and my surroundings. I opened the moving door to the car
and jumped out crying with this over whelming feeling of shock
and dismay. It couldn't be. I didn't hear those words. Not me.
Never.
I ran off to the organic food mart off Brooks. Then ducked
into the video store unnoticed. I gazed at the displays vacantly
as if I could comprehend what was in front of me. Stale movies
from careers so washed up in Hollywood. I amused myself thinking
about where some of these losers are now and thought of the
gilded cage Hollywood puts it stars into only to tuck them away
as empty memories.
I fondled two quarters and two dines in my pocket. In my tantrum
I neglected to take up my purse as I was shedding myself free
from everything surrounding me.
I didn't hear him correctly. You can not use a gamma knife
on a cyst, this much I knew but he is the expert. He deals with
Arachnoid cysts all the time. I look around at all the faces
disfigured from previous surgeries keeping people whole. There
is this one man so beautiful his face look liked it was molded
from wax or part of the Thing as it consumed the men from that
Antarctic Camp.
I hear Astrid calling to me. She wants to bitch and moan about
how she was so poorly treated after her mom committed a crime
of passion. I look at the cover and know that Michele Phifeer
is not who this woman had in mind to play Ingrid the cunt mother
so naive to imagine she could escape the justice system. Angry
at her for being so neglectful of her child.
"We take radioactive material and inject the cyst."
My heart is pounding in my chest. Another boring conference
with another group of dip shit doctors. They will know nothing
about my disease, the horrors I am living through, "I'm on 150
Vicodan a month" I proclaim to anyone willing to listen.
"I don't want you to watch me die, Poppa..." I finally said
to him on the phone. I don't want you to watch me suffer like
this. When every precious moment of my life slowly seeps out
of my nerves. You can't watch it Poppa because you have been
so hurt for so long and to have your grandchild die before you
will hurt you even more than when it was your child. I was the
one he loved the most. I am the incarnation of my mother. "Little
Patsy" was my nickname as long as I can remember.
"...then we leave the radioactive material in your cyst until
the walls of the cyst die." He continues.
I watch them as they line her up against the wall. Her scarred
belly from the pregnancy and surgeries. Her missing belly button.
I watch at the grid falls over her belly and they shoot her
with radiation.
Not me. Not chemo. I don't have cancer. Not Radiation. Not
having my hair fall out. "Good. No more money for Loreal." Florent
kisses me gently. Snot streaming out of my nose from all the
tears I have shed.
"Then we go back in and take of the radioactive material and
you no longer have a cyst."
I start to wail. I can sit in the video store no longer. I
don't care about the Boys' club. There is no redemption.
I'm in a daze. Is it real? I walked to the phone booth not
knowing what to do. I stick my coins in and dial his number.
"Come get me"
"Where are you?"
"At the Cafe 50s"
"I looked everywhere for you..."
I walk across the street with the rain falling gently on my
elegant French knot when the wailing starts. It comes from down
below my belly and I am sobbing once again.
"I am ready to kill myself I am in so much pain."
"Don't do that. It's not necessary." I write it in my letter
anyway.
There. Now I feel better. I am talking to Nicole, Tyler and
Lynn.
Saturday
November 13, 2002
I wish I were dead.
I can't stand this shit. Some stupid fucker wrote me an e-mail
bitching at me for not showing up at his place the other day
when it was raining. Then I have been moving. Then I found out
about the radiation. I don't think I will ever be the same.
Florent hates this country. He doesn't understand how I can't
get my treatment. He slept on the floating cess pool last night
and didn't sleep well. I suppose it's his own fucking fault
because he didn't do what he could to ensure that we had housing.
I was the one that found the floating cess pool.
We went to the Ambulatory care center at Cedars today and
I think the only way I am ever going to get any treatment for
my disease is if I write a letter and beg some fucking people
to help me out. I don't know if that will do any good but there
is no harm in trying.
I am still feeling like I am not belonging to this body. I
feel like I am floating outside. They refilled my drugs at Harbor.
Another 150 Vicodan. Another month that I won't have to feel
my nerves electrocuting me and jolting pain up and down my right
leg all the time.
We passed a bum on the street last night. I told Florent to
just drop me off there and I would sleep next to him. I hate
being homeless. I hate going through all the shit I have been
going through the last year of my life. I hate that I didn't
calm down enough to get Medical because If I had that shit I
could have seen the doctor yesterday. I need to call an attorney.
I need to get my life all worked out but it doesn't seem possible.
If I radiate my brain what else is it going to fuck up? My
pituitary gland? My sex drive? Will I switch into high gear
or will I become a coma like zombie? I know there are no answers
for me. I have pissed everyone off on the arachnoidcyst yahoo
group. They sure as fuck didn't want to hear that these things
can be radiated and then disappear. I think for some reason
some of them hold on to the hope that there will be some other
kind of miracle cure.
Thursday
November 14, 2002
Up and down and all around. I talked to Ian today. He is going
through hell. Some cock sucker was taking his car and he jumped
in it and drove away with the boot. Now he's up on a felony
charge. He told me to come home after I told him they want to
inject my brain with radioactive material.
"That's a step up from Chemo." He said. "Fuck, my problems
seems small compared to yours."
"Call dad." I keep chanting.
He wants me to come home. He lives in a big fucking house
in Lexington. "The rent is $345 a month. We have a house a den
and it's really really nice." It would be nice to have a place
to go to.
I want you to check something for me. I want you to look into
how they treat people that don't have insurance and maybe I
can just come there and have my treatment." I want to desperately
to get away from the madness of LA. The madness of life.
"You need to be around people that love you." The boy-man
tells me on the phone. The little brother I never had. My best
friend in high school at 9 years old. Always with the wisdom
coming from deep inside. I think of Sadie, their dog Cathy got
after she read that book by Dean Koontz. Bob on the road all
the time. Me trying to figure out how she could stand being
alone so much. The adult me understanding more and more how
much better life could be without having a husband around you
all the time so you can save the best parts when he comes home.
The pain is washing over me. I am jacking up my Vicodan on
a minute by minute basis. I am starting to tremor from the pain.
Sunday
November 17, 2002
Mom once told me she saw an angel fly by when she was a child.
Rita is my angel. I started last week sleeping on her floor
because I wanted to trade computer know-how for a place to stay.
She screamed out last week because she didn't want me to be
here. Her Parkinson's was acting up and I had not realized what
damage it has done to her trail of thoughts.
We showed up the other day and she asked me to leave and I
started crying. I was so upset but I knew why she wanted me
to leave. She didn't want to think that she needed anyone here
with her. She resented that her family wasn't here for her.
Many of the same feelings I have because I feel like I have
also been tossed to the way side. That moving to California
was just a childish fantasy I would soon overcome when I was
destitute and broken.
But somewhere along the way she began to realize that having
someone in the next room was a blessing. That calling out in
the middle of the night was kind of like a tree falling in the
forest. Does it make noise if anyone is there to listen? That
was a popular question we had in physics when I tried to take
it my senior year in high school. We were supposed to prove
it but I never could because my brain wasn't wired for math.
I can understand the principals but writing it all down is much
hard to prove than photographing and actually showing it.
So yesterday we spent the day at R.E.I., Barnes & Noble and
Trader Joes. She slept through the night peacefully from exhaustion.
Florent took me to JoAnn Fabrics on Lincoln the other day and
I sorted through the beads delighted that I could finally spend
some money from the $900 I have saved. I asked that rat bastard
that had a birthday this week if I could have a fucking raise
and yet again he is screwing me.
Daphne has been working for the Webbers and she's up to $12
an hour now. I have been working for Onestop for a god damn
year almost and weathered all his bullshit and I am still making
$10. I think it's time to quit.
So we spent the day out and it felt so good having a make
shift family for a change and not having to worry about where
I am going to lie my head the next couple of weeks makes me
feel like maybe I can accomplish more things as well like finally
getting Medical so I can have those fuckers at Cedars fry my
brain.
Today when we finally got our act together we went to Venice
Beach and it was such a joy. I was supposed to find Sandy who
I met at JoAnn's the other day. She stopped and prayed for me.
Her life force was so strong and she let me in and I could see
all the things that were in her mind making her scared in other
ways that I have never been. She filled me up with her strength
from my fears in ways that she will never know. She almost looked
like a female version of Florent wit the neck.
We talked and talked and she told me how she was doing stand
up and I told her I was doing that as well and then I told her
how "Carrie's mom was in the back of my mind screaming 'They're
all going to laugh at you'."
"Have you seen that show?"
"No. I don't watch much TV."
"I CO-wrote the theme song."
My heart started to beat faster. I was falling in love with
her so easily. The planes on her face, the funky clothes she
was wearing that she divulged that she was selling on Venice
Beach.
Florent came by to get me and I was so happy to be with her.
I was a little disappointed and my disappointment grew after
we check out and left the store because it was over $80 and
I finally muttered that we could take the beads back and without
a hesitation he turned the car around and went back into the
store but not before I could dig through half of the beads that
I wanted. I hated him then. I hated him for being so cruel to
me and that was my money. I was the one that found a place to
stay and he's just being playing with his dick all this fucking
time.
"You have to fine a job. I want to quit Onestop and you need
a better job. I don't like living with people like this. You
are not concerned about my health. You have done nothing to
make sure that I get Medical on and on and on."
Right now I feel like he's pretty much a worthless piece of
shit. I want to save up enough money so I can put all my shit
in a U-Haul and go back to Kentucky because it's just too much.
Ian has a house and the rent would be like $300 plus utilities
"...Cathy this house is so amazing. I'm such a spoiled bastard."
Knowing his mom and dad I am sure. Nothing but the best.
I think about calling my fucking bastard father and telling
him I finally found a treatment for my disease. I think everyone
pretty much has the same reaction when I tell them about the
radiation and that is "FUCK".
I wonder how many people are thinking that I have been living
with this shit for the last 12 years and dealing with it and
"they" are just now figuring out how to treat it. It's not a
malignancy but the treatment is one that is utilized for hard
core cancer.
I think about all the fucked up hateful things that have happened
lately and now for some fucked up reason it's all making sense.
I needed to do this, this had to happen to me so I could voice
it for the babes. There are so many of them being misdiagnosed
with bullshit that doesn't suit them and so many ignorant doctors
out there that just treat this as though it doesn't cause any
problems. I'm starting to know more and more and the pain stabs
me all the way through my back, tingling up and down my spinal
cord and ending with my leg always jolting back in pain.
The thought of being healthy perplexes me to no end. It's
an notion I have never had the luxury to contemplate.
I am loving our makeshift family. For once in a long ass time
I feel grounded and loved. I haven't been high in a while. I
am making more and more necklaces with left over beads from
Taiwan. I need to find a gem show and go and get more beads.
Marina bought me the most beautiful necklace in Hawaii. I took
it apart and strung the giant whit shells with pearls and put
it around Rita's neck. It is completely dazzling and I am very
excited at the thought of selling my necklaces although every
time I make one I want to keep it for myself.
I have to go to bed so I can wake up early and hang out at
the welfare office so I can get Medical Florent traded his broken
back pack for a new bag at R.E.I. And I got these toe warmers
you are supposed to put in your ski boots to keep your feet
warm. My leg quit biting me until the magic wore off. I was
very delighted for this discovery.
I miss Buzzy tremendously. We haven't hung out a lot and tomorrow
would be our only day so after I get all that shit at the welfare
office straightened out then I am going to head to her place
to do shit there. I hope I can sell these necklaces.
I did something today I never thought I could do. I applied
for welfare and food stamps. It was one of the most humiliating
things I have ever done in my life. I feel totally like a tick
on the ass of humanity. I wish my life would take a turn in
events.
Leslie's doc seems to think that the seeds of radiation is
BS. "don't get your hopes up." But I was there and I actually
met Dr. F and the expression on his face was solemn. He was
dead serious because that's the way he has had to be. I have
to cling to the hope that this treatment is what is going to
cure me.
Fleeting thoughts of being cured and what I could do if I
could regain control of my body have caused great feelings of
elation and fear. Leslie has a DNR on her but dat beeeotch hasn't
died from any of her 10 brain surgeries.
The welfare thing is killing me. I never imagined that I would
be a welfare recipient. This is one of the worst feelings in
the world. Florent was so mad at me when I asked for his card
but he won't do jack shit to get a full time job so there is
not a lot I can do.
"I need a car."
"You can't even afford housing and you want a fucking
car? OOPS, I'm sorry Rita. I didn't mean to fight in front of
you."
"Thank you!"
I am reading about Parkinson's disease. Now I understand why
Rita was hallucinating the other day. It's a part of her disease.
Psychotic episodes are also common and I am positive that being
here is both a blessing and a curse for her. It's nice to have
someone to clean up more and cook and check on her but on the
flip side it's hard to do much of anything else.
I have to wake up super early. They denied my Medical at the
welfare office because it's still pending and the Armenians
social worker told me to go to the Social Security office to
appeal the decision and there is always the bullshit that I
have return to the welfare office again tomorrow because I showed
up too late and the fuckers told me to come back tomorrow.
I am so humiliated.
Saturday
November 19, 2002
It is after midnight the 20th.
I am sitting here smoking a cigarette outside on the deck
listening to the waves crash against the beach. This day was
the hardest.
We woke up early to make the 8:30 appointment at the Welfare
office. It's a new building and everything is still gleaming
bright and shiny and new. I sit and wait for the social worker.
He flips through my file and I am invisible. Just like everyone
else I am common. I have no rights.
We show up and the Indian man takes all our information. I
have to do this to show I am in great need. I am disabled and
yet again I am denied help. This time from EDD.
Rita went to a Parkinson's meeting. She is tired from the
day. I was frightened that she did not want us here. I panic.
I cried on the way home from work. Tyler saying a bunch of shit
to me about how people love their job blah blah blah. Just another
confirmation that I am invisible. Another reason to make me
feel like I am nothing and that the work I am doing is not valuable.
Ryan is not working on Fridays or Mondays so I am the one doing
support.
"Go take a shower and I will give you a blow job."
"A fountain?" He pleads. I have put him through hell.
"Your perceptions are wrong, Catherine. You have feelings that
don't really exist. You have to understand this sometimes."
I keep crying. Crying because I miss my mommy. Crying because
my father doesn't want anything to do with me. Crying because
I'm so sick and I feel it creeping up and down my legs. I cross
my legs when we are seated at Rita's. The left left threatens
to start abusing me.
We wait until 3. My card is still not done for me. I tell
them I am in pain. They are waiting for my card so I can go
get food stamps. "I'm in a lot of pain. I have a brain tumor."
It's so easy to fall from my lips at this point. So much easier
than explaining what an arachnoid cyst is.
I finish reading White Oleander. It is not one of those
hatefully ending books that leaves you lost and begging for
a happy ending. It is one that is more based in reality. The
reality that I am somewhat caught up in. So many of the words
parallel my own life.
I clean the bathroom trying to take away the stains in the
toilet. Trying to make things sparkle.
I am lost in my thoughts. Suicide is my constant companion
sitting on my shoulder like an unwanted guest. A quarter page
ad in Vanity Fair tickles me to no delight. The image
of me with words going across. Homeless. Abused. Dying.
"A woman got on the Internet and asked people to pay off her
credit cards." Buzzy's distant voice rings in my ears. How I
miss Buzzy and her warmth and patience. Getting high and looking
for jobs.
"When I imagined my mother I saw her as being a rock-and-roll
mom that had the time of her life... I dreamed you up in my
head and here you are in front of me." I tell her.
It's that time of year. Her favorite. Memories of Thomas abusing
her, us, with careless spoiled words that have lost their meaning
behind his ceaseless narcissism.
"I love your fighting spirit." He tells me in the car as I
am weeping. It almost goes into a wail but I stave the worst
cries away knowing that if my nose becomes bloated with tears
that I will have even more problems. Leslie and my father were
right. It's better not to feel.
She has no left temporal lobe. The cause of the cyst compressing
against her brain as she is forming. "If I do the surgery then
what is going to take it's place?" She asks me. "Yours is small
enough that your brain could fill it in."
I know she is right. "But I am still willing to try the radiation
if it works."
It's not a malignancy but now they are treating it as if it
were. I want to scream at my father that I couldn't help what
I have written. My mind has always been diseased and he has
done NOTHING about it.
His cock is hard before I even touch him. I caress the skin
above his hips. It is as soft as my face. I make the excitement
grow. I think to myself that this should be forever. Caressing
his fuzzy bottom. I think about being in a wheelchair.
"I'm taking care of you, Catherine, can't you see that?"
"But it doesn't feel like it."
I want someone to take care of me. To make all the Social
Security bullshit to work. I want EDD to make my life better.
I want the money to flow. I entertain thoughts of running away
again, starting back in Kentucky. I want the solace to be instantaneous
but it never is. No one cares out there about my disease. There
are not enough people that have it. That's why it's not funded.
I tell him to stand up, it will be that much easier. I take
his sweet tender cock into my mouth and put one hand around
the shaft and the other between the soft spot where his cock
begins. I suckle it like a baby nursing from it's mother. His
head so soft rubbing against the roof of my mouth.
We haven't been having sex lately. It's been a long time since
I felt it. Jen and Chris breaking up and moving on has hit me
hard in the stomach.
"Baby can I come?"
"Yes." I murmur.
I suck a little more so that it shoots in the back of my throat.
He empties frustrated seed into my mouth and I hungrily let
it drip into my throat, an oasis in the desert that has become
our sex life.
"Well you can stay here until mid-January." Rita tell us.
I want to cry for joy because they told me that if I went to
a shelter that Florent could not go with me. He hasn't been
here 3 years. I wonder how many other folks out there are doing
this in the .bomb aftermath. They judge you by your shoes. I
am wearing my Angel shoes Florent bought me when we lived in
San Francisco. My first present he gave to me before he knew
how many shoes I possessed.
"Do you want dudette kisses? Are you clean?"
"No." I didn't want them and I didn't want to wash. I am...
"Would you like to make love?"
"Yes."
He is still hard enough to enter me so that my breath is taken
away. The way it should always be. I feel my vagina lend to
his stiff cock. It feels so wonderful that I hadn't realized
how much I have missed it. The in and out motions, my legs like
a contortionist hovering above my body. He moves in deeper and
I am lost in the emotions of making love once again. He is so
tender, so gentle. I ask him to pound me still feeling the aftermath
of former lovers that loved to sport fuck me. He takes the time
to actually love me, my body, my soft fat that is so despised
by the media.
I take deep breaths and get on top of him and he winces when
I miss the mark and his cock falls from my vagina, crimping
it in a painful position. It's hard not making love on the boat.
It's hard to get used to space being so constricted. Our domicile
now consists of beautiful kimonos draped against a bland wall
that were once used in wedding rituals.
I love Rita so much. Her class. Her stoicism. Her callings
for a lover to feel the same emotions Florent has just given
me. They stare at us while my body releases the first gushes
of my ejaculation. The first orgasm hot, hitting his balls and
making my cunt more appealing because of the heat. I know what
it does to men. I know what it does to me and how every piece
of my heart goes into that feeling, that rush. I think of goddesses.
I think of the earth. I feel myself tremble from the waves of
pleasure he is giving to me. How could I take so much for granted?
Am I growing up? Realizing that my selfish desires to be myself
could come to an end like snapping a dry twig on the barren
earth.
I am greedy for love, affection and attention. Fearful that
this bubble microcosm that we have created, our shanty town
family could end abruptly. I am fearful that Rita will quit
taking pity on us for one indiscretion from voicing our opinions
or releasing our frustrations. I am fearful that she will never
want to be with me anymore. Yet again another aftermath of the
isolation I know from being turned away from not belonging.
For being that kid they picked last because I was never this
or that. Wearing my abuse like a badge of courage. The kind
of courage people still admire me for yet hangs on me like a
displaced ornament.
I shouldn't feel this way I know on the surface, superficially,
but deeper there stands the girl screaming out at 18 that her
head hurts, slicing the back of her head with a razor blade
cutting flesh and follicles that people might see if the radiation
burns away my hair. Fearful of being caught in the middle of
a terrible lie that has no basis in reality. Maybe it's just
madness leaving it's mark upon my soul.
I come several times and this time since I imbibed in his
juice he still has the stamina to make my orgasm complete, my
cervix tenting with pleasure from having a hot cock buried deep
inside me instead of an electric device and my own fingers.
My toes are starting to tingle from the cold. My left leg
threatening to turn on me as the right one has. Still I push
on holding the hope that my cure is actually a reality. I'm
so close to buying the farm and becoming completely mad.
Electric fish amuse me at different intervals of the day,
crossing my line of vision at what ever I am staring at. They
are becoming more prominent. More blue and red and yellow. I
try to stave them off realizing there is nothing there in front
of me. My mind, my sight, my elaborate schemes of being someone
great come crashing next to me.
Once upon a time there was an upper white middle class uptight
cunt born into a "great" family. She crashed and burned into
the socioeconomic depths of despair and agony with simple words
to keep her company and the hope that there is a cure! Hope
that there is lots of life to keep on living. Maybe there is
an answer in togetherness, in becoming one with another life
form. That through me someone can be saved from their own afflictions
and temporary thoughts of emptiness.
We are all empty and life sometimes leaves the cup 3/4 full
but the milk is organic, no pesticides and filling. Maybe there
isn't always enough to go around but at least I can share what
I have got. Rita is my new inspiration and I cling to her because
she is always filled with hope and love and the emptiness that
she was experiencing is now gone. Entertaining life in her soulful
eyes is one of the happiest places I am allowed to share with
her. Thank you God for understanding that I needed her just
as much as she needed us. Thank you for knowing how to put us
in situations where we are allowed to come together and rejoice
not just in your name but in life and how we have chosen to
live it.
Thursday
November 21, 2002
Being a customer Service Rep part time has allowed me many
opportunities into the human mind. I feel that of all the experiences
I have had, the good, the bad and the ugly I continue to learn
about life.
There are a lot of people out there and they all have these
different ideals of what life is going to be like. That we will
all have our 15 minutes of fame and I wonder out of all the
things I have done and not done lately if life is really worth
living.
I used to ask my mother all the time if she was in pain. Typically
she said no. She once came home with a headache and looked at
me and said "Cathy, I don't see how you function like this on
a daily basis. I can hardly move."
I called my dad tonight and left a voice message on his machine.
I told him I think I should file a lawsuit against Dr. Simon
for basically ruining my life and not working with me on a cure
for this disgusting disease. It's no fucking wonder I am a little
batty but for some reason I finally understand that I have more
going on than what other people perceive.
We had an argument tonight about him not paying attention.
He loves to tell me that I make no sense to him but it doesn't
seem like he is doing much about the fact that I am in silent
agony all of the time.
I think it's time to split for a while. I can't take it anymore.
Zack has welcomed me into his home. I can always go stay with
Granny and she kind of needs me now. But I still have to go
through this SSI bullshit. I saw Mr. Lameuraux the other day
and he still remembered me. I was deeply honored that I had
made such an impression on him.
He chastised me about not making my hearing and listened to
my rantings and gave me sound advice to re appeal. God please
let this work. I am so very sick and desperately need this assistance.
My soul is aching and as I feel the cold of winter threatening
I shutter to think of getting colder, my nerves wrapping tightly
around me strangling me all over again. I am tight now sitting
here at Re's. I am tired from working. I can't make it to Seattle.
It's too hard on my body. I feel my pieces slowly unweave themselves
from the fabric of my body. My poor hands suffer the most from
all the typing I do. I wish Tyler would let me lay down so I
would be more comfortable.
He took a shower there the other night and my heart pounded
as I thought of going into the shower with him doing a Monica
Lewinsky. He had a birthday the other day. He's 23.
I wish I wasn't attracted to him. I feel every day of my hormones
thriving lushly inside my body. The outside is ripe sucking
the life from the inside. There isn't much left on the inside.
I feel choked from the base of my brain. The nerves are what
make us who we are. Nerves carry the electricity it takes for
you to move your body. They tell you how to talk how to walk
how to deal with each situation.
I fantasize about strange things these days and have the most
morbid conversations with another arachnoid cyst sufferer that
threatens their life by the time they are 30. I think about
the real life problems I have and the ones that I make on a
daily basis. Although some of the feelings I have are feasibly
the most instinctual base level of who I am I still like to
hold to the idea that true love still exists. Maybe I have made
many mistakes along the way but at least I never give up trying.
The management told Loony and Marina how horrible we were.
They spun it into one of the worst fabrications levicious minuscule
level of who we were and that we were "Trouble makers." Loony
turned his back on Florent today. He sat there and read me the
riot act about how shitty the boat looked when we got it it
was not a masterpiece of cleanliness either. I guess it's all
in the perception of what life is really like and I know I did
my best to do what he told me to do before he left. He told
me to call the cops if I wanted to kick Florent off the boat.
They told him that we called the sheriff twice and the first
time Florent called the cops on me.
But that was a long time ago before they put me on Vicodan
and I was doped up enough not to live with the pain of carrying
my body. I know I should be annexoric but I can't be like that.
I can only do my best to be myself. My thoughts are broken,
my consciousness is imagined. I feel like I am on acid all of
the fucking time. I am closing my eyes now, imagining what it
is to be blind and so far I think I can still express my thoughts
well. I guess if I lose my sight that I can continue to type.
I may make some mistakes every once in a while but it feels
comforting that I can continue this form of communication.
I just woke up from the most disturbing dreams. I was at mom's
house and we were frantically trying to do something. There
was a clown and there were people down at the bottom of the
hill doing strange things. I was scared. I was afraid for my
life.
I was at home.
I was disjointed.
I looked on-line for tickets to get yesterday to go home.
They are all like $300. It's cheaper to fly to Florida.
Mom was alive in my dream. She was there like she used to
be. It was so disturbing. I woke up because my hands were cold
and numb from not taking my medication. I got high for the first
time last night and now I feel very strange. I think I need
to quit forever. Give up the hope that marijuana has some kind
of basis in reality for me.
I am sitting here doing my work old style before I had Dreamweaver
only now I am using localhost and BBEdit. I have BBEdit open
on the left and a browser open in the left. I am sitting in
Rae's bedroom. Her gold record with Morris Day down stairs gleams
back at me in ways you could never imagine.
Sitting in my bedroom and listening to my first tape. Ice
Cream Castle's with Morris Day and... I see my reflection
in the gold understanding the fine line between there and here.
It is so expensive to go home. I wonder if it's cheaper to rent
a car and drive. I think it might be.
Rae and I just has a wonderful conversation about our illnesses.
I think we are on the same level and to see her chirping around
with her dead arm still makes me exquisitely happy. She's so
happy to be here that all the pain she must endure is just a
fraction of who she really is.
I guess our mirrors all shine on people differently. I am
happiest with my reflection in Rita. She seems like she is so
much more happy with us being around. Rae said that it was funny
how she became much more creative and I told her how it was
funny how you just didn't give a shit what other people thought.
I am on such a different plane than most of the people I have
ever been around.
I was thinking the other day how I don't carry the prejudices
of my childhood around with me as an adult like they would like
me to do but instead concentrate more on letting the dog shit
on the sidewalk because it's a free country and if we aren't
allowed to let our animals be free than what are we? I am not
one of those baggie bearing babies. I hate cleaning up dog shit
and I hate stepping in it too. When it's me it's another story
but when it's other people...
I took all the red Jessica nail polish off my computer and
now I only have the diamonds on it. It looks spectacular. So
the think about being a customer service rep is that you get
to see into all kinds of people's lives. I listen to mostly
men, am often told how nice my voice is.
Saturday
November 23, 2002
Dear Tristan,
I read your words and I want to cry. You too, my dear, are
very hard to forget. It's nice to hear from someone that once
cared about me. It's nice to be on the same coast. 310-902-6001.
I found out a couple of weeks ago that the only cure for the
disease I have been battling for so long is to inject radioactive
material into my cyst and melt it away. I am frightened, scared
and feel utterly alone. I feel that I have put myself in so
many bad places just to find some kind of treatment and the
words people have been using to describe me lately are ruthless
and cruel. No one can possibly comprehend the devastation it
is to live with a brain abnormality and to be treated, finally,
like the malignancy that it is gives me so much pain because
it (the arachnoid cyst) has practically ruined my body.
I feel so terribly lost Tristan. I think every body does but
they see someone they perceive to be stronger than they so they
latch their shit hoping someone else will carry it with them
for the rest of their lives.
I find very little comfort in much of anything. I take up to
8 Vicodan a day, medication used for elipsey and antidepressants
to chase it all down. I am finally a licensed pot head so I
don't feel like a criminal. Mixed with food stamps, welfare,
a shitty French husband that claims to take care of me but I
am taking care of us... Homeless... I can go on and on.
Life sucks. I am suicidal but these days just wait for the
opportunity to rise just to see how much worse it can get.
I hate being compromised by my disease and then held responsible
for my actions as though I am just as healthy as those that
surround me. My husband treats me like a doll that he carries
from place to place and then acts like he can't live his own
life. I feel like the mad woman from Jane Eyre kept in the attic
and then given a voice in Wide Sargasso sea.
I hope to find a publisher for my diary and get all kinds of
wonderful suggestions of what I should do only asking for help
to have it recess because I act as though I am of a sane mind
and have also tried to fit in the best way I could.
I am just one tenth of the person you used to know. A shadow
when I look in the mirror with a sight of a woman I could never
imagine because I didn't know it was possible that I would ever
become this... whatever this is.
When I reflect on the time in Kentucky I think of myself still
extremely misunderstood because of my affliction. I keep waiting
for it to all make sense but it falls from my fingers like sand.
I believe in so many things when I came out here to California.
I thought that it would be so easy to just make it work. I tried
stand up comedy and people laughed me off stage. I wasn't prepared
for that because you always hear the horror stories of life
in front of the mike. Then I was paralyzed soon after from the
neck down for 4 hours. A girlfriend from high school used me
up and then turned her back on me because she hated my husband
and he has fallen into a deep depression because of what his
life has become.
I don't know what happened... I don't know when I lost myself.
Shirley hates me. My sister, Anne hates me. The only warmth
I feel back home is from the love of my nephews and the love
of my dying grandparents. I feel that even sometimes that is
not enough to shed light into the darkness of my mind. Hoping
for a cure to save me from my nerves dying also makes me believe
that there is something out there but I feel my organs suffer
and my body won't obey me as I wish it would.
The lowest blow recently was applying for public assistance.
I never in my life imagined that I would ever be on welfare.
I thought getting married would stave me from that existence
however I was sorely mistaken and don't even feel like I once
did about myself.
Sometimes I see her when I think about leaving him for good.
I see a woman filled with passion and desire for men but no
longer for the growing kind of relationship I was hoping marriage
would bring me. The ways I have had to live, the people I have
been associated with, the unhealthy way I have become because
I can no longer (I don't think I ever could) control myself.
I have seen so many things and let go of so many beliefs in
lieu of holding out for something better only I never knew how
great it was when I had it so good. I know I should not be nostalgic
for the past but I don't know what the future me will be like.
Perhaps a charachature of a full blown mental illness yet to
be defined. The minutes and days and weeks and years have all
taken their toll on my metal well being. I stare into the abyss
of madness' hungry mouth thinking there is no better place to
find solace from the pain and mental torture my own body has
afflicted me with. Feeling the cyst day in and day out can only
be likened to Chinese water torture occurring on the inside
or perhaps having a stone epoxies to the most tender part of
your foot and never being allowed to remove it.
To know it is but one cell wall thin keeping my thoughts from
flowing freely and my consciousness in a threshold of normalcy
does not make my suffering better but feeling the electricity
misfiring burying other parts that are healthy makes me even
more angry for ever trusting a bitch that never understood medicine
or the horrors that a human's body can afflict itself with.
There is not a web site out there except for the one I have
made that details my disease or what is to become of me. People
that I thought I could trust with my heart are no where to be
found and the ones that are my friend out here now know how
they can manipulate me until the end.
God was gracious enough to lend me Miss Rita and her Parkinson's
as she is one of the few people I know that truly understands
the cruel fate of neurological suffering while my husband dreams
of having Schizophrenia when he watches movies such as a Beautiful
Mind.
I am afraid, Miss Tristan that I am just another lifeless loser
with film over her eyes staring into the nothingness that my
life has become. I am worthy of many insults that have presented
themselves to me so that I am always familiar with them as they
always mimic the abuse that so carelessly fell from my father's
lips.
I crave the warmth of my mother's touch and am constantly misguided
by her thoughts and feeling in my dreams and awakening from
that path leaves me disillusioned and battered.
I wish I could be happy but as always I know that I can share
my despair with you for you were one that may not have always
understood me but were there to listen. I have told many people
of your feats of falling out of an airplane and always wish
I had made that trek to the Monk's cheese with you. It's a far
cry from home these lands out this way and it's particularly
hard to ever feel the comfort of isolation.
Love,
Catherine
I leave for Chicago on the 18th. I will take a bus to Kentucky
and go home with Zack, I believe, on the 26th to spend the rest
of my time in Chicago. I look forward to being with people that
once used to believe in me. Matt and Sue, Stephanie and her
new husband, my nephews, my sister and Doug, Andy and my grandparents.
Hopefully Grisha will still be there. Maybe I will get to see
more people while I am there as well.
Today is Florent's 27 birthday. He boldly announced that he
was going to get a digital camera for his birthday the other
day. I told him that if he didn't have a job by the time I got
back from Chicago that I was leaving him. I'm sick of this life.
I am sick of the reflection people are giving me about myself.
I feel like I do my best to make my life wonderful but sitting
here on the corner of Olympic and Euclid I feel that I admire
the fashions of the homeless way too much. That instead of being
there I am here. I need to get out more and participate in life.
There are a lot of things I need to be doing and I am stuck
now.
I think about going home a lot these days. Of sitting at my
grandparents just slowly going mad from my disease. I read this
horrible article about how when they do radiation and mix drugs
with that you basically get a slow zombie and I don't know if
I am ready for my vision to start deteroritating among all the
other nice things that it can do.
He acts like he is all special today and I am not giving him
that honor. I am sure there are people that can make the best
out of any situation but I feel that right now like such a total
loser. I miss my mother insanely. Perhaps that is part of the
legacy she passed on to me. Buzzy was hoping that I was going
to run off with Zack until I got to the part about him being
gay.
I thought I would really make a difference in Florent's life
but I don't think I have. Just a segway into atrophy, a skipping
stone. Buzzy said many hateful mean things to me recently. Something
along the lines of how she can't trust me for anything. I think
sometimes God sees that we are dimming and sends us someone
bright to remind us that maybe we are deserving of many things.
Tristan and I talked for hours yesterday. It was so good to
hear her voice. She was happy because she finally found a job
in Portland after looking for 2.5 months. She kept telling me
how talented I was and creative. It felt so nice to hear that
for a change. I told her for about an hour all the problems
I have been having and she was very sympathetic.
I wish I were more successful here so that when I went home
I could tell them that I was all the things I had hoped I could
be but I know that's not going to happen. It's going to be excuses
and lies and hardship. Why don't I do things the way my grandfather
wanted me to do them? I'm thinking I will get there and be paralyzed
and my condition will be aggravated much the way Rita was when
she went and saw her mom.
I can't believe he wants special treatment on his birthday
after he totally dissed me on mine. He has a job interview tomorrow
and he wants it desperately because I have told him that if
he doesn't start getting his shit together I am going to leave
him. I wonder if he thinks I am kidding. Then he will be totally
abandoned and I might just go home. Go live with my grandparents,
become mad and put shit up for sale on Ebay.
I think the show aired on the BBC. There are a ton of people
looking me up on Yahoo! UK. I have started in my head an application
for a date.
* * *
I feel so completely lost. So empty. I stand in the mirror
to look at my reflection with my purple tongue and look at the
deep rings around my eyes. Florent wanted to make love tonight
because it was his birthday but we started to cuddle and I asked
him his dreams and he said he didn't have any.
I am bewildered. It feels like my life will never be complete
and at the same time I will never be fulfilled. I can patch
some holes with blood and guts only to have it start to rot
and decay all the surrounding areas.
I think about what Buzzy said the other day and I am a total
disappointment. Someone so full of hope and wonder and now it's
all tossed into the drain of a sink filled.
I think about committing suicide all the time now. That the
choice between going nuts or radiating my brain hurts so completely
that I feel like a burden more and more. Florent tells me he
loves me but I don't feel it. I can't taste it smell it touch
it or see it. There is no ring on my finger and he has no roof
over my head. We depend solely on the kindness of strangers
and are not making our own way here. I don't guess just anyone
can make. Survival of the fittest and all that bullshit.
I don't believe in that crap anymore. Some bullshit the media
feeds you to make drinking Coca-Cola and eating McDonalds will
bring you a better life. I don't understand how so many people
can be duped like when the stars go out to premiere's and are
oh so glamorous. It's a dog eat dog world out there and I was
not made for that kind of existence.
I have been thinking about some of the holes that I filled,
or simply emptied the cabinet spaces in my mind. When people
are racist or exhibit demeaning words I can't stand it. It tears
me up and devastates me inside because why put your thoughts
into vapidiness? Is the commercialization of America what keeps
it's faltering self-serving structure upon itself?
I was flabbergasted when I heard that one of the professors
at U of L took student's money as "donations" for
his trips overseas... and that people actually gave him money!
Talk about abusing power.
I don't know why I feel like I am so undeserving these days.
I think I deserve the best life has to offer however I am stuck
in a situation that feels like it has been out of control for
ages. I turn for help only to have it fade away and the cloud
that is in front of my consciousness seems to ebb and flow with
the tides of the ocean.
I don't understand why people have to rub your nose in your
own shit. Like tell you all their disappointments in you have
to surface so they can remind you of how you trely are and all
the let downs that you give them.
I woke up this morning in EXCRUCIATING pain. 5 something maybe
even 6 and I had to get into the bathtub and warm up and take
some drugs. I love waking up like that so right when I can finally
rest for a bit I have to get ready for work. I love how Ryan
and them cut my hours like it was their discretion like little
boys playing with the lego structure my life has become.
You take one piece from mental flexiblity and then it goes
here into bodily functions. You empty all the free lego so that
you can build your life all over again. I had this strange dream
where Tanya and I were driving through San Francisco and other
places. She said a lot of hurtful things and when I turned them
back on her she freaked out and went nuts.
What can I say? I like smelling my own shit so that you don't
even give me a chance to right myself? I have to relive everything
wrong I have done and how I am washed up and I haven't even
had an opportunity (a real one) to prove to the world and myself
who I am going to become? That's not fair. Has the hardest fucking
case around her heart, flippiantly treats me like I am not worthy
of her attention and then when she has time for me here I am
like a doll tossed aside.
I still sleep with my grover.
I don't have to be anything but who I am and if my friends
can't love and accept me for that...
"They don't know you... they don't live with you... they
don't see you in pain because you try so hard to be "normal"
in front of them but with me..." Now all the time I have
spent listening to him tell me I act fine in front of them makes
more sense. The mental anguish he watches me push through, the
pain, the restlessness. It would drive anyone else crazy. It's
driving me crazy. The only think that keeps me from going stark
raving mad is a part time job with a boss that has no respect
for me. There are other perks.
I interviewede for a job elsewhere and I think I will get it.
He called me today around 4 I think to offer me the job. I have
never had anyone call me back to tell me I was a loser. That
was the day the Santa Ana winds swept through. Buzzy said they
blew through the pool and jacuzzi area and lifted a marble table
top off the ground and cracked it.
