If you really wanted to fuck me up you should have gotten to me earlier

I’ve been thinking a lot recently.

Too much so, as I’ve been unable to sleep for more than an hour or so all week. All this with no hugs, human touch or Court TV as a distraction.

Also, when Miss R thinks it’s a case of someone working without the proper tools.

Be that as it may I’ve some to a few inescapable conclusions:

  1. Some people are happy loners because humanity is a back-stabbing unforgiving species with no conscience nor genuine interest in working together or working things out.
  2. Some people are incapable of being alone because they are needy fuckers with no sense of humor or talents of any kind
  3. Sleeping by myself every night sucks and walking up in a big bed alone is horrible. Yeah yeah yeah this seems to be a recurring theme. Get used to it.
  4. After being unceremoniously dumped by someone you’re able to observe nothing but couples. You never see single people on the streets, in films (unless they are reunited at the end of course as it’s Hollywood), or in your reading.
  5. Too much Bukowski and Dorothy Parker are giving me the idea that alcoholism, broken hearts, constant thoughts of suicide and bad dietary habits are a norm to strive for. Hi Norm. Sadly these two individuals were both talented and able to make a living through their art. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck for me.
  6. I am one of the people who apparently does not do well alone. Was it the 20+ years of marriage? 13 years of raising a child and then having to send her away? I think it’s a function of my dysfunction. There’s a hoary old saying: No one can love you until you love yourself.

Some days I like myself alright, but that’s usually when comparing myself to the homeless dude on 4th street. I can find comfort in my intelligence and then realize that it has gotten me exactly… nowhere. Years of therapy, analysis and cognitive re-training have as yet been unable to convince me otherwise. Is it me? Yeah it is. Damn I hate taking responsibility for my own crap.

Now there’s a fucking cheery thought for this morning.

On the good side Tinfoil Hat Client did show up today. With no fucking warning as usual.

Listened to two hours of his ranting about the site, verbal abuse, lectures on world-wide pandemics, how ‘they’ are spying on his private emails, … well you get the picture.

At the end of this diatribe and 4 pages of notes for my use I DID receive a check.
Jesus. I have GOT to get into another line of work.


My laundry is going round and round in the sauna-like laundry room as we speak and the house is clean.

Had a few responses on the car but who knows if any are viable.
I DO still have my piano though and will put in some practice time this afternoon.

I should go to the gym as well but really don’t care today.
It isn’t as if I go anywhere or strive to meet anyone new.

Seems I have taken off a few pounds since working out this week though. Despite my culinary experiments.

Yeppers that whole routine idea was a great one last week. Okay there are two over-riding reasons for the sturm and drang today:

  1. Today marks my two year anniversary in Reno. Ugh.
  2. Tomorrow is my daughter’s birthday and once again I will miss it


Both of these together make for a serious slide into the abyss. I need to cheer up right?
I could get hit by a bus tomorrow! Whoa even tonight if I play my cards right.

Of course I’d have to actually leave the house.

~Miss R

3 thoughts on “If you really wanted to fuck me up you should have gotten to me earlier

  1. As far as I know, Bukowski worked in a Post Office. His stuff wasn’t really that popular until after he died. Most of his work was published in small-press lit magazines and read by almost nobody.

    Anyway, feel better. Talk to your daughter on the phone for a long time and you’ll feel a little bit better, even if you can’t see her.

    I find that when I’m bummed out, it’s probably because I’m taking my life or some aspect of my life way too seriously. There are thousands upon thousands of people in the exact same situation as you, and they’re exactly as miserable and alone as you are. Pardon the bluntness, but get over yourself and laugh a little.

    Good luck. Remember: call your daughter and let her know you miss her. She probably misses you, too.


  2. you’re right. taking myself too seriously is a character flaw.
    one of so very few -grin-.

    Bukowski DID work in a post office for several years, although he did gain money and some fame before his death.
    He kept his phone number listed in the phone book for sheer amusement value. to him.
    You gotta love that.

    thanks for the kind words my friend.


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