Ninety-One

I don't mind you growing up, and I think I've found a way to give you space, but I will not tolerate your immaturity when it comes to a little girl that has never done a thing to hurt you, and has done her best to accept you into a position that someone she loves dearly used to fill.

Ninety

I have to button it up-- tuck in the loose edges, and maybe give it a trim, but for the most part it's looking good. It's time to pull off the white sheet, brush it off, and liberally douse that fucker with a little Bay Rum.

Eighty-Nine

Twenty-seven years of pain stored in a computer and carried around on my back-- a tyrant running my life while I bore him. I couldn't be free as long as he lived, and even though only on paper, his words choked the life from my God. He had to die. And I killed him. I'm not going to celebrate his completion though--instead, a burial and a small memorial service for the man who should have been dead years ago. I wonder if I'll miss him.

Eighty-Eight

"There's nothing wrong with hoping or wishing on a star, there's nothing wrong with thinking that she's finally in the car. There's nothing wrong with waiting for your true love to be true, there's nothing wrong with running, if your feelings follow you."

Eighty-Seven

What is the truth? I know what you tell me, but then again, you've told me lots of things that were false. I know what I see, but you've explained things differently, my perception was askew. I know what I do, but then I question my own motives. I know who you are...at least I thought I did.

Eighty-Six.75

I'm hurt, and contrary to it getting better, it's getting worse. I'm not okay. And what do you offer me? You say, "Just wait for me-I'll be back after I grow-I'm still yours." After you grow? Still mine? I'm twenty-one years sober, and I'm still growing, still not done. If I wait till after you're done growing, I'll be eighty when you return.

Eighty-Six.5

I don't want to hear it, especially from him. "You guys doing alright?" "Why?" "Well, I asked her where you were, and I got a text back saying 'I haven't seen him all day'." Not funny, seeing how you left my house at five.

Eighty-Six

"I'm gonna give you first crack at this story, but you've gotta promise me one thing."

"Shit, I'll do anything for a story like that chief. What do you need?"

"I need you to sit on it and not go to print, even if every other newspaper is running it."

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah, I'll give you the story first, but it's gotta stay between you and I?"

Eighty-Five

Trying to learn how to love two people. I know how to love you I think, but sometimes when I do, I'm neglecting me. I want to love us both. I want us both to be happy. I'm sorry that when you leave here I'll have to stay with me, but there's nothing I can do about that, however, I promise I'll still love you, but only from afar.

Eighty-Four

I've sat here since two wondering how you can sleep so easy. I would've taken a walk, but my George is lying next to me, and she can't wake with me gone-- she fell asleep, wishing that her father wasn't so sad. It's amusing how I want to be touched now, hugged, and comforted. I never used to before. I went it alone, sucking the pain in, toughing it out like a real punk, but now, I crave your hugs. When George's small hand fell on my thigh-- I let go, I didn't try to hold it in anymore. It's been so hard loving a woman who chooses to hurt--and in my pride and stupidity, I thought she loved me enough to let that go.

Eighty-Three.5

How many other Jack's have there been? I know you've said there has never been another one, but I have a strange feeling that there has been. I wonder if he cried himself to sleep--a dull ache spreading through his stomach and into his throat, after you told him you felt nothing. You hold me, you give me a ring--asking for my hand in yours, and I give it, and I give you my heart, and I pledge my soul to you, and then one day you say "you can't" and I'm crushed, and I want to be numb, but you've taken all the numbness the world has to offer and you've used it on yourself.

Eighty-Three

Some words stand alone.

Trust

"I love him so much Jack--that he can never hurt me." Odean

Eighty-Two

I'll fight for you--but, if you send me to battle with make believe ammunition I will lose. And maybe that's what you want, maybe without realizing it, I've become your enemy-- a symbol for all of those that have harmed you. I'm big, and I am most definitely male, so, if you had to win a war, what better person to destroy, than me?

Eighty-One

If all I can see is this moment, how do I know what the 'real' story is? I think now is happening, but what if, what I'm seeing, feeling, or hearing is not?

Eighty

"Probably shouldn't look in there."

"Why not."

"Cause you might find something."

"What if I did?"

"I don't know, what if you did?"

"I don't know. Get mad maybe."

"And then what?"

"I don't know."

"Probably shouldn't look in there."

Seventy-Nine

He held the bowl under the heavens and he opened the tap. Sweet white creme poured into his hands, and then cinnamon, chocolate, anger, and sadness. He spun the dish and added a tossed green salad with a cilantro lime dressing, and then compassion, kindness, love and madness. It was everything he could hold, flavors so bright and then so subtle--over flowing the bowl...it was a suicide.

Seventy-Eight

I like the children's game 'I spy,' and I'd like to play it with you.

Here we go.

"I spy with my little eye, a bed that's not been slept in, a chair without your clothes laying on it, and a man who hasn't been kissed since 5:45 pm yesterday--the time your flight left for home."

Seventy-Seven

I've always had a love of San Francisco, and although, I was born in the bay area, I don't think that influences my affection. Maybe, I had a memory that got turned around, installed in my head backwards, maybe I was remembering my love for her, before I ever knew her. My Kate, and my heart, will be there this weekend.

Seventy-Six

"The ripe fruit rots on the vine." I heard a man say this one afternoon and I was thankful, but at the same time I was afraid. I never want to stop growing, to stop seeking, or to stop loving, but these things often times cause pain. I could be lazy, refuse to learn, rest on my laurels, but then I would rot and die, or, I could be open to experience, take the pain as it comes, and then rejoice in the growth and live. I chose to hurt, I chose life.

Seventy-Five

It's going to be quick, and I hope painless. I'll wake up one morning, and I'll have the feeling that something is different, but I won't know what. It'll be removed like a mornings mist on a summer day--it's gone before you know it.

Seventy-Four

I'm not trying to make waves, because believe me, the last thing I want to do is get wet in my clothes, but don't you think it's time to stop. I don't want to be part of another passive war. I don't want to be drafted into a situation that I find myself six months down the road saying "How the fuck did this happen?" If I cross a line, call me on it. If you don't, how will I know that I've infringed upon your territorial rights? And sweetheart, I think you are the best woman I have ever met in my life, but I won't let you hurt me, because it would not be fair to you, or the people I represent.

Seventy-Three

Once a month, for four, or sometimes even five days, my head and my heart become a target for her hormonal fits. I feel for her, I really do. I know she's not trying to be at her worst. I realize that my real name isn't "Are you fucking stupid?" I know she hurts. I do love her so, but I'm thinking that I might open a ranch, a 'Menstrual Ranch' if you will. Somewhere that my girl and one-hundred-fifty-million of her closest friends can go to be pampered and loved. I'll have the ranch staffed by masochists and I'll make sure it's secluded. I'll make a fortune.

Seventy-Two

There's a line in a book that I read often, and it says--and I'm paraphrasing here, 'God, doesn't set too hard of terms for those who seek him.' Hmmm, God, the supposed creator of the universe, doesn't set hard terms for those who seek him...interesting. I wonder why a being that is busy creating the world, and all beyond, is so much easier to see than you are?

Seventy-One

I don't mind saying it a thousand times--I'll give you that and more, anytime you ask. But sweetheart, will you please do me a favor? When you feel yourself getting ready to believe me, when the ropes of trust start winding a safety net beneath your feet, and when the love I've given you is just about to rush into your soul, will you let me know? I'd love being there when you finally realize how much you mean to me, and how I thank God daily for your smile.

Seventy

Sometimes I wish I'd left just a few walls up. I'm open on my Northern exposure and when the cool winds of indifference blow against me I have no defense. And on the East, and the West, where once the great brick fortress stood, there's nothing to protect me from your anger. The only barricade I have against you is to the South, but as you've said before, you'd never hit me with a low blow.

Sixty-Nine

There are days when you're the victim of my disease, and there are days when I'm the victim of yours. We take turns beating on each other with our jealousy, our insecurity, and our fear. Its a terrible war, but it will not claim us, and we will win, if at least one of us remains strong. But the days when the both of us attack at the same time, when we gnaw simultaneously at each others souls, those are the days that I fear will overcome us.

Sixty-Eight

Why so scared to be hurt? You spend your nights and days preparing for a 'worst' that you think might kill you. You surround yourself with a shield that doesn't let love in, or out. and you call this living?

Sixty-Seven

I'm happy that I'm semi-well of body, and 1/4 well of mind, and an 8th well in my heart, but I'm sad I'm incomplete.

Sixty-Six

To be without passion is to be evil. Only the damned and the sociopathic are without feeling. To be intense, enthusiastic, and with zeal, is to be human.

Sixty-Five

Deadline; for a term that sounds so frightening there's not much definition to it. My deadline was five days ago...and?

Sixty-Four

Today we got good news? We had this news before, so I guess its old news repeated, but your reaction this time was different. The last time we got this news it was a bittersweet pleasure. We cried and wondered if the good news, was not so good after all. But this time, you were ecstatic, the absence of a visitor thrilled you. A flag of victory was flown from your car, and I was left standing on the sideline, holding a pair of baby shoes.

Sixty-Three

My car just got blown-up and I'm off to Alaska--June '81

Sixty-Two

I want to be defeated. Being beaten without being vanquished is hell. Defeat means no feelings--adrift in the current of the victorious. Why don't I ever give up? Not once in my life have I ever admitted to complete defeat.