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2003-09-17 @ 8:54 a.m.

So I drove away shaking my head. Luckily enough, I was not shaking.

During the brief drive to the house of Knoll (it�s a merely 6 blocks away from Manse Daddyman) I wonder why some people ever learn. I took this opportunity to remind myself that I certainly never seem to. The feelings I have kicking in are bitter. Bitter, bitter feelings. I was owed a rescue.

About 5 hours later, the girls and I are tired and we leave the warm, inviting house of Knoll. We head over to deliver the phone minutes to the Daddyman. The Extera is still there. Oh goody. It�s a marathon.

Telling the girls that we�re only dropping off the phone card and leaving right away, against my best judgment and interest, we go in. Girls running ahead. Knocking on the door. Entering the apartment. I, stand at the door.

He wants me to come in and say hello. He says �we�re in the middle of a therapy session.�

Something inside me detonates. KGB is a drug counselor, not a therapist. If she was a therapist, she would have no business advising someone she was involved with in the manner that she is involved with him. A year ago, when all the mess with her started, the Daddyman would say they were having �therapy sessions�. Now I know that they were going on massive crack binges. I cannot be here. I cannot be anywhere near here.

I enter the apartment, into the walk-thru kitchen, thrust the phone card down and say �hello� brusquely. I turn to him and ask if he�s still planning on going to the picnic.

I know that everything, in a matter of hours has shifted, and I am high and dry. I try not to shake or yell. Part of my inner consciousness is saying �It�s all for the best.� But I still feel outraged that someone who I felt I had no choice to help would be striding so purposefully toward the blade again. The Daddyman, however, is in primo self-centered mode. He says-

�C�mon, you can�t do this know. You dump this news on me before, and Johnny Cash died today��

The earth stops. I take a quick look at the giant whirl of idiocy all around me before it whirls again. Of the many biting remarks flighting through my mind these occur-

�A man who�s death is something of a relief and a surprise is the excuse for this self-indulgence�� �I lose a job and all HE can think about is the effect it has on him.� �stupid,stupid,stupid,stupid,STUPID.� (directed at everyone). This is what I say.

�I can�t believe that you�re taking my situation and only looking at it for yourself. After all I have been put through, and have done for you, you are turning heel into disaster. I�ve fucking had it.�

I pick up the phone card ($30) wanting to take it from him, although there is no option of returning it. Once you�re in, you�re in. Once you get to the end of the pier- you might as well jump off. From here there is no return.

He says �What are you going to do?� I throw the card back down. Part of me is screaming hysterically that he is supposed to rescue me, I could see him creating my situation for that purpose, and now, however unsound that rescue would be, I am clearly being denied it. I am screwed. And I won�t pick up the pieces this time.

�All I know is that I wasn�t even FINISHED mopping up all your blood yet, and I won�t be doing it again.�

Little did I know.


Apparently I can't shut up...
hearts aflutter - 2011-04-12
blather over lunch - 2010-04-30
revival - 2010-04-18
foot dragger - 2009-08-21
The bangs of a Stooge - 2009-08-20

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