You won't bring me any pain, you won't run around again, there'll be nothing to explain, with a girl like you...

new lawn jockey...


car-designing in a bad mood...


I hate having people mad at me. I don't like it. I'm afraid of having people mad at me. Which in the long run, in the big picture, whatever, is pretty stupid. Because what it means, is that I will do just about anything to avoid it. Bend over backwards, kiss ass, hide what I really feel. Lie.

This weekend, a friend of mine called to say he was having car trouble and wasn't going to make the bump (the designers meeting/play time). And then he called about an hour later to say that he wasn't coming at all. No! He had to come! He had requested this! He's one of the leaders. I asked if there were trouble at home, but he hinted around that he was mad about something else. I finally pried it out of him. He was mad at me. I couldn't believe it. He was joking, right? No. No? He was really mad at me? Mr. Fucking-Nice-Guy? Mr. Go-Out-of-His-Way? How the fuck could he be mad at me?

It turned out he was upset that I hadn't invited his wife to the bump. Again, I was incredulous. She had been to one about two years ago. And we pretty much hadn't heard from her since. But if she wanted to come, why hadn't he said anything? We'd been planning this for at least two or three weeks. Anyway, he went on about how she's talented and not given enough credit for being an artist and on and on... I got it... But mad at me? Fuck. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I am not a mind-reader. At least, not a very good one. I can help you find shit if you lose it, but I don't have a clue as to what people are thinking. Why they do stuff. Except for the bottom line reason for all human behavior (according to an ex-wife): fear.

But here. I had no clue. Well, as reluctant as I am to say it, he fucked up the whole bump for me. And I am reluctant to say that because I don't want to give him one fucking little bit of satisfaction. But he did screw it up for me. So, if he wants that satisfaction, he can have it. (But that would mean he'd have to read this...) Anyway, we had the meeting/bump without him. Did some writing. Designed cars. But my heart wasn't in it. My heart was in my stomach.

This is Tuesday going on Wednesday, and we still haven't talked. We've missed each other on the phone. And I think things are going to be okay. But, Jesus Christ. I must also admit that when attacked, I have a tendency to lash out. Or at least daydream about making really nasty come-backs. Getting even. But occasionally, or maybe frequently, I have to remind myself that I'm a fucking grown up. This usually comes up when I'm dealing with my daughter. Or it used to, anyway. She'd get mad and slam something or say something, and I'd come right back at her. And then I'd realize how stupid it was for a parent to act like a child. So, there were a lot of apologies. A lot of retracted words. Just trying to set a good example. Sort of. And I guess I have learned to stop myself. But shit. I thought of some pretty funny nasty stuff to say to my friend. ha ha.

All right. Enough about that. I still have this mad crush on a woman who is either wisely ignoring me, or completely unaware of my feelings. (What's the matter, doesn't she read minds?) But, it's for the better. As Randy Newman more or less put it, she doesn't need some old guy beating on her like a gypsy on a tamborine. She's fun, smart, sexy and we work well together. So, I'll leave it at that. And in the meantime... I'll just be this malcontent, envious and resentful of happy couples I see when I go out.

If I have a soulmate somewhere, someone's probably telling her to shut up and sit down. And she's probably telling them to go fuck themselves.
(And all of the grammarians cringe)

I had to have root canal work done today. I had a root canal when I was fourteen. Seven weeks in a row of going to the dentist. I was actually kind of nervous. Not afraid, really. Just not looking forward to it. I decided to do something to make it go better... I took pictures. wanna see them?

I just realized that sometimes I take pictures of things I have trouble dealing with. True or false, Jim? God. I haven't been drinking. Not since Charlotte moved in. There's a whole boatload of crap I don't want to deal with. Charlotte and her mother. I got out of the marriage and got away from that battle. And now... it's back. Anyway, Charlotte's here. She goes to Mexico on my birthday. And is there until December. Four months or so. I spent a term there once. But I only lasted about two months. I was a lovesick puppy (oh, how things have changed). And I wanted to vote in my first presidential election. (Yeah, right.) But let me get back to the important thing. I haven't been drinking. And it's just me and my clear head. Seems clear, doesn't it? Damn. I need to drink so I can go to bars and meet women. Or, plan B. I need to get a new antenna for my TV.

That's it.

It's a Rutles song, in case you're wondering. Running through my head all day. With a girl like you. Can't get this woman out of my head. And can't get this woman.

all material ©2001 iguanaking