Daily Buddhist Wisdom

Even as rain breaks through an ill-thatched house,
So lust breaks through an ill-trained mind.

Even as rain breaks not through a well-thatched house,
So lust breaks not through a well-trained mind.

-Dhammapada 13-14

From "365 Buddha: Daily Meditations," edited by Jeff Schmidt.

Study ties gambling to Parkinson's drug

One American with Parkinson's disease went from being an occasional gambler to racking up losses of more than $100,000. But within a month of discontinuing one of his medications, he stopped betting and his relieved wife told his doctor, "I have my old husband back."

A patient with no history of gambling became so obsessed that he lost more than $200,000 in just six months. When he curbed a drug, his habit faded.

Another man turned into a compulsive gambler who stayed at casinos for days on end and was "unable to pull myself away from the tables." And while on the drugs, the Parkinson's sufferers became obsessed with sex -- one went from having sex once a week to four times a day. Two ate compulsively and one drank more.

The dramatic behavioural changes are outlined in a study published in yesterday's on-line edition of the journal Archives of Neurology. Like previous papers, the research concludes that medications known as dopamine agonists -- especially Miraprex -- trigger pathological gambling.

"It's very striking, this temporal relationship between the initiation of the drug and then the beginning of the behaviour, and then the discontinuation of the drug and the discontinuation of the behaviour," Leann Dodd, a psychiatrist at the Mayo Clinic who led the analysis, said in an interview. "It's suspect, that's for sure."

This year, an Ontario man with Parkinson's launched a class-action lawsuit after losing $100,000 gambling while taking Miraprex, which is the trade name for pramipexole.

Dr. Dodd stressed that a very small number of patients on the class of drugs become compulsive gamblers -- one study found the behaviour in 1.5 per cent of people taking Miraprex -- and that the side effect can be reversed. One of the patients said discontinuing the medication was "like a light switch being turned off."

The Mayo Clinic study examined the cases of 11 patients who reported problem gambling after taking dopamine agonists, that mimic the effect of dopamine, a brain chemical that allows the body to move smoothly and be co-ordinated. Nine patients took Miraprex and the other two took Ropinirole.

Of the 11 people, seven became pathological gamblers within one to three months of reaching a certain level of medication. The other four reported compulsive gambling between 12 and 30 months after beginning the therapy. And six of the patients, the study says, also developed other behavioural changes, including compulsive eating, drinking more, higher spending, and increased interest in pornography, extramarital affairs or a higher libido "bothersome to the spouse."

Eight individuals' pathological gambling was resolved when the dopamine agonist was suspended or decreased, the study says. Follow-up information was not available in the remaining three cases.

Earlier this year, Boehringer Ingelheim (Canada) Ltd. asked Health Canada to change Miraprex's patient insert and product monograph to include warnings that it may cause compulsive gambling or changes in sexual desire.

New Breed

Well, I don't even know where to start, about my vacation. Slash, hell.

Anyway I'm talking to two new chicks online. No idea why. Partly boredom, partly for sexual satisfaction, partly because I feel compelled to and can't stop myself, and partly out of wanting to seize the day. I've held back on written to girls on online adult personals sites before, and then they cancelled their membership so I lost the opportunity and was pissed at myself. I don't want to feel like that any more, so now I'm being more proactive about hitting them up.

Both are 22. One of them just mentioned she has a boyfriend so this may be a good sign that she has no interest in a relationship. I don't really feel all that interested in knowing her; there's no real spark there and she doesn't seem like all that special of a person. Cute, though. One of her profile pictures is her ass covered in cane marks so I know I can do almost whatever the hell I want to her.

The other one is really interesting. She gave me her yahoo messenger screenname, and I typed that name into Yahoo Profiles and saw her profile, on which she had a link to her blog, which had her real name and place of work and pictures of her parents and sister and so on. It's like she hides nothing. Very strange.

Her profile states that she's not the one, if you're looking for love. She says she just wants to experiment but I can't believe she's not bombarded with tons of guys of all ages trying to fuck her.

I feel kind of threatened in a way because I'm 35 and not exactly up on all the things a 22 year old would know about, which is pretty much the latest bands and styles and slang. Not being into the same bands is no big deal but not ever having heard of a big-name modern band is kind of a black mark against ya. Not being up on style is a bigger no-no, and not knowing current slang, or using old slang, people can find that weird. It just shows how much older you really are.

So now I feel weird 'studying up' on what the world is like for younger hipsters, because

1. I like to be myself
2. I don't like to feel like everything I do is contrived
3. It's crazy thinking that I'm old, because I still feel like I'm 23 in many ways.

I think if I'm just myself she'll dig it more, but that takes a lot of balls. You have to be prepared for people to not "get" you, especially younger people, at which point you lose them.

I find her intriguing because, why would she openly give out personal info to guys she meets on an adult personals site? I wonder whether she just knows it's unlikely that many will come by her work and stalk her, or whether she doesn't care, or what.

~

In addition to emailing girls I was going to wait forever on, I'm trying to do more things like that too. Looking at myself I see that I'll prepare forever, I'll put off the good stuff forever, in favor of 'seizing the day,' so to speak. I'm trying to change that; maybe if I do it enough, I can change the basic tendencies of my thought processes.

I saw a bit of an independent documentary on the punk scene in the 70's and 80's, and a couple of the biggest-name guys were talking about how on the one hand you have guys like Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, who went to music school and then stayed home practicing their instruments in dad's study for years, and on the other hand you have these kids who just get a hold of some instruments are are like "Yeah, let's do this, and we'll figure it out along the way."

And I saw an interview with Quentin Tarantino in which he said, "Go make your movie. Don't worry about 'how am i going to do this,' 'how am i going to do that,' about going to film school first, about working your way up, just do it."

Roberto Rodriguez says the same thing. Just start making your movie. Don't worry that you don't know everything; you'll figure it out.

I'm more like the guys the punk musicians were ridiculing for staying home studying. First off I hate being just a total rookie, looking like every other would-be expert who is just now starting the long road to proficiency. I hate floundering around publically making my embarrassing mistakes. Besides, why jump in and do it, when I'm going to have no idea what I'm doing and am going to start trying to learn, start seeking books and people who can teach me. I like to stop and look at what's going to happen, to act, not react. So I just skip ahead and start finding resources and people to learn from.

I hate people who don't use their brains. So many people are so stupid and don't rise above it and look at themselves objectively. Anyone can be a rookie and anyone can get out there and try what feels like their hardest, without studying first. But what's really the hardest is studying and learning all the ins and outs of something, figuring out and comprehending all the concepts that are so difficult to grasp. Flailing as hard as you can isn't trying your hardest. Sucking it up and having the self-control to be persistent while reading and studying, is.

However...

A) I rarely make the transition from preparing to actually doing. They say life passes most people by while they're making grand plans for it. That's so true for me. I have a hard time figuring out when it's time to stop learning, because, it's not like you ever "get" all of it. First you learn the basics, then you learn the trickier stuff, and by that time I've got my own theories and questions about things none of the experts and none of the books even know about. I've become an expert or one of the leading experts, without ever having touched or experienced or done the thing.

That's kind of what happened in my line of work. I sat home dreaming and studying about it until I finally was urged to get into it. Kind of given a boot in the ass, really. When I did get into it, I learned that there was no-one who could verify the theories I had come up with. So I experimented and figured it out for myself, making myself the top guy in the industry in the process.

Sadly my A.D.D. and compulsion and lack of self control fucked me out of being a multimillionaire. If you can believe it, I still haven't made a doctor's appointment to get medication, either. And I haven't started smartrecovery.org. I'll do it "tomorrow."

the modern man must hustle

The first time I met the Devil was at a Motel 6
she left Hell to spend a weekend on Earth just for kicks
sexy little bitch,
shorter than expected, about five-foot five
big an' thick in the breast and thighs
beautiful, dark eyes, a strong stare
large lips, soft hands and long hair
I said I'll make you smile for the simple fact I'm good at it
I'll make you smile just so I can sit and look at it

Out Of Town

Til Wednesday or so. What a fuckin' pain in the ass.

Craigslist Entry I Saw

I saw this on Craigslist. Actually someone sent it to me. I wonder whether he had any idea I'm a porn addict. And I wonder whether he is one.

Opening Up

The weekend went pretty well I guess. The bride looked pretty cute and with her doe eyes and nervous embarrassment ways, reminded me of my first girlfriend.

The groom's sister, early 20's, was quite fit but had big healthy tits. Just big slabs of juicy chicken meat, and her dress showcased them terrifically. Good god where did she get a body like that? She is definite hoochie material, a very likely candidate for Girls Gone Wild and other such videos where girls tongue kiss, show their tits, and do everything else they've been programmed to do to get attention. I would fuck the shit out of her.

This one chick, 23, had the prettiest face. Nothing but shining eyes, cheekbones, brilliant smile... Her tits were uninspiring and her ass didn't have much bump to it. She met a sailor there (friend of the groom) and stayed out with him 'til 6 A.M. The next day she was on her way home and he was showing us the scratches on his back.

~

I called that girl, one of my best friend's girlfriends, at work the other day, to bullshit. I guess she finally picked up on my saying how I hated myself and my life and my marriage had turned to shit, because she called me that night to talk. I opened up and told her a lot more about me than I've told almost anyone in real life, like I told her about my Harry Tasker alternate persona I use for chicks on the side. She was pretty amazed, I guess rightfully so, at how I've covered every conceivable angle, from putting new-car plates on my car, to the fake registration I keep in the glovebox in case a girl looks through there, to my fake driver's licenses, to my prepaid credit cards and cell phone, all of it. I told her about a lot of my problems, and, surprisingly, it really helped me identify them more clearly, just to try to explain them.

One of the main ones is how I see sex and love. I realized more clearly than ever that I desire two things:

1) a girl on the side to open up to about romance and matters of the heart, someone I can act macho and Alpha Male in front of, but at the same time cry in front of, too. Someone I'm sexually attracted to and who I feel totally comfortable showing and telling her what I want in bed.

2) basically a mother or best friend figure at home, which is my wife. Someone I don't need to be attracted to, and who I don't want to have sex with; someone who will take care of me, who I don't open up to.

I don't trust the girls I have sex with, with certain parts of my heart, and I don't trust my wife with other parts, like I don't trust them not to make fun of me if I did open up.

I feel comfortable doing all kinds of kinky shit with my sexual girls, but I'd feel kind of corny telling my wife to do the same things.

Another big thing I revealed to her - and just hearing myself say it, really opened my eyes to how bad of an addict I really am, even though I knew it already - was how I think about girls constantly. I explained to her how, for example, I might see that Japanese-American chick at the Post Office and instantly being plotting and scheming, figuring all the angles in my head in a huge flow chart like a master chess player: How soon to come back, what to do if my wife isn't working that day, what to do if the chick isn't behind the counter that day, how to approach her, how to ask her out, what to do if I don't get into her line, when to call her back once I get her number, which restaurant to take her to, how to dress, how to act, what to say, all custom tailored to make her fall in love with me, based on my amateur yet expert FBI profiler-style assesment of her personality, current station in life, etc.

Which brings me to another thing I revealed to her- how I really am not even after the sex all the time, mostly just their hearts. My mission is to make girls/women fall in love with me, and me them, because I'm addicted to that thrill of the newness of first love, the romance, all that heady stuff.

Anyway it was really touching that she gave a shit and actually picked up the phone because she was worried about me. I told her she can tell her boyfriend anything or everything about what we talked about, so he wouldn't feel like I'm trying to lay her or have some sort of secrets with her that I won't tell him, thus undermining their relationship.

Mini-Vaca'

Going up the coast a couple three hours to a wedding. My 22 year old sister-in-law's friend. Super cute girl, soft face, big doe eyes, juicy lips. I'd pound her. Hopefully the wife enjoys the weekend and isn't on her usual automatic sour mood.

At the bank today a cute girl behind the counter gave me the eye. Dressed in black; straight brown hair, glasses; healthy, soft breasts and ass. I did my flirty shy thing and she kept peeking at me and smiling. As I was leaving she checked me out. I would totally pound that.

Got another $20 grand out of nowhere, so that will tide me over a bit. Will write more on Sunday nite when I get back.

Under The Bridge

Under the bridge downtown
Is where I drew some blood
Under the bridge downtown
I could not get enough
Under the bridge downtown
Forgot about my love
Under the bridge downtown
I gave my life away

Most People Lead Lives Of Quiet Desperation

One of my girl toys is getting married to this turdbait grizzly adams guy at the end of the summer.
Tomorrow is her last day at work; she's super cute and super brainy, an electrical engineer, and she quit her job so she can go hike from halfway up Oregon, down a third of the way down CA.
Basically 600 miles.
Then she is flying to FL, getting married, flying back to LA, getting on her sailboat with her dude, and sailing to South America, where they are considering backpacking in Ecuador for a year
Then back to FL to start life over

I'm like Yeah I might TiVo Entourage next week

Cuck You

I don't steal other guy's wives or girlfriends. I just borrow them from time to time.

Godzilla

"Pornography really does, unlike other addictions, biologically cause direct release of the most perfect addictive substance. That is, it causes masturbation, which causes release of the naturally occurring opioids. It does what heroin can't do, in effect."

-Jeffrey Satinover of NARTH

Six Feet Under

I just re-watched the final episode of last season's Six Feet Under. I used to always feel like I was exactly like Nate and my wife was exactly like Lisa. If you knew us you'd agree. I just knew my wife saw the same thing; she even hinted at it a little bit.

Rewatching it now I see in a way I'm worse than Nate, or what I've done is worse than what Nate did. My wife really doesn't love me anywhere near as much as she used to. I'm sure if she watched this same episode again, now that another year has passed, she'd watch Lisa's sister's husband asking Nate, "How could you treat her that way?" and think, He treated me that way.

Harsh reality

Man, I'm so jealous right now. This guy came to fix a chipped windshield on the wife's car. We got to talking, he has has two businesses, one doing this and one doing custom flooring. He showed me his album of before and after pics of floors he has done, talked about the product, etc. The guy is very good looking, fit, easygoing, just reeks of being simple, down to earth, honest, hardworking, on time, organized, everything. 30 years old, wife is 23. I guarantee you his wife is super hot, too. That's just how those guys have it. I also guarantee you he'll make more money every year from now on, for the rest of his life.

And then there's me, I could fuck up anything.

Cattle Call

Ok.

So, I went to a casting call yesterday. First off my agents are total pieces of shit, which is totally unsurprising. And to think everyone blames the talent. Yeah, right! This dumb bitch calls me up midday - I'm still asleep - and says "Hi this is (her first name), you are scheduled for a 3:15 casting call, can you make it?" Doesn't state her last name or what business she's calling from, or even make sure it's me she's speaking to. She just blurts it out immediately after I say hello. She also doesn't say WHERE it is, or for WHOM, and the biggest thing is,

a) she already scheduled me without even seeing whether I'm available or not, and

b) she didn't give me ANY advance warning! Not even one day! Oh yeah right, like the casting director and the studio and videographer and producers and assistants and everyone else involved went to all this trouble to set this all up, but didn't notify my agent until that same day?? GIVE me a fucking BREAK! WHAT a FUCKING BITCH!

What really happened was, this agent was warned a month in advance and didn't even pick up the phone. Why? Because she's a worthless cluck. A dumb fucking c-word of a wench. JESUS Christ, please God kill her.

See, the problem with her scheduling me without my knowledge is that if I can't make the casting call, the casting director and everyone else will go "God, what a flake!" Yeah right, like it's my fault. Dumb Fucking Whore.

Anyway, I respond to her, saying "Can I call you right back?"
She replies - incredulously, mind you (can you believe this shit?) "Do you even have my number?"
I'm thinking, Well yes, you dumb fucking bitch, ever heard of caller I.D.? But I say "Well I assume you're calling fro-" She interrupts (as always) and blurts out the name of the agency. No Fucking Shit you dumbfuck! Where the fuck ELSE would you be calling from? JESUS what a dumb fucking piece of shit.

Anyway, I let myself wake up for a moment, then call her back. "Hi, this is _____" (ya like how I introduce myself? It's called NORMAL PHONE PROTOCOL as well as PROFESSIONALISM.) "Regarding the casting call, where is it?" She blurts out the street name and number, nothing more. I pause, so I don't reach through the phone and choke her to death, and say, "What city would that be in?" ARGH you DUMB FUCKING WHORE!

Anyway, I get ready and race there, but there's one catch. My wife wants to go. Fuck!! What am I going to do, tell her no? Heck no, that would be a terrible move right now, maybe ending my marriage.

We arrive, and as often happens, there are other casting calls going on at the same time in other suites or whatever they're called. All the hopefuls are standing around the main waiting area. One group is infants and parents, another group is average joes, another group appears to be skanks and hookers, and yet another group is Hot Frickin Women.

Good LORD are some of these women hot. I mean, if you've never been to L.A. at all you really can't fathom it. Believe me, I have lived here a long time and it still amazes even me. Oh you may think you can "get it" because you're capable of grasping the notion that there are lots of hotties and wannabe starlets in L.A., but it's like having a gun pointed to your head: imagining how it would feel, and actually having it happen, are two WAY different things.

Between the mommies with their heavy, soft breasts, bending over to pick up their babies, and the models/actresses with their rail-thin frames, rounded asses, jutting cheekbones, and impossibly white teeth, the whole room has me reeling.

I swagger in like I own the place (unlike everybody else, who are either nervous, or gorgeous yet insecure, or fingers-crossed hopeful), trying to keep my distance from my wife, and everybody stares at me, wondering "Who is this guy? Is he a director? A casting director? A hotshot actor I for some reason don't recognize? A producer?" The gorgeous girls I give cursory inspections to and maybe give a small, ambiguous smile to, but I don't show too much interest. Those kinds of girls fall all over themselves shining their glorious warmth on you until you show interest - then they're like "Tssh. As if." So if you ignore them they're like "How can I get this guy to notice me?"

Meanwhile though I'm staring at whichever ones are looking the other way, so I can ogle them unnoticed. MAN! I'm telling you, these girls are painfully beautiful. And desperate for attention. Good god it would be easy to pull some of these chicks.

Also there are a lot of mommies there with their infants, who are trying out for a diaper ad. This one in particular has just the sweetest face, and HUGE tits, I mean bigger than my head by far. But really nice, too, not just arbitrarily large tits. They're so big that she has a lot of cleavage showing, so when she bends over to pick up her kid, I look the other way so it appears I'm not paying attention, but then I turn back and stare right down her shirt. Praise Jesus, pure heaven on earth right there. My god. I can only imagine how warm and soft they are. Grrr! It's almost like being starving and staring at food from a world class chef.

Now, most moms don't lose all the weight they gained during their pregnancy right away, and many (most?) never get back to their original weight in the first place. So, they feel like big ugly cows, especially next to these 118 lb , 5 foot 11" superhotties. That means if I flash this one particularly reliable smile of mine, they're putty in my hands. And for the icing on the cake, the Perfect 10's in the room notice it (they don't miss a thing) and wonder why this cute MILF gets a smile and not themselves.

So, whenever my wife's back is turned or I happen to be facing away, I work it, without her noticing. MAN I could collect some digits if I were here alone and in recruitment mode. Good god I would love to pound some of these beauties. Fucking a skinny or really fit girl is great because they're so firm, every thrust slams her whole body around. And fucking a thick girl is great because they're so voluptuous and luxurious and soft. You get to see their tits move, their ass shake, thighs, tummy, all of it is terrific. God bless women.

I need to go to my car for something, so my wife stays behind to listen for my name and tell them I'll be back in a moment if they call me. On the way there I slow down to let this one hottie catch up with me. Blonde, very pretty face, looks a lot like Gisele Bundchen. Nice soft a-cups, but they're jiggly, which I love. Now, skinny girls with no ass totally turn me off, I mean, my weenie says 'Byebye!' Zero interest. This one has a round, muscular little thing back there, a very Nicole Kidman body. Good god what I would do to that. Anyway I make small talk and flirt a bit. It would be so easy to get her number. But I wrap it up and walk ahead. Around the back of the building I catch up to a black girl, who I can tell was just inside. She just had that look. Halle Berry body, with bigger tits and a bigger ass, and a face a lot like Nia Long, but cuter. We bullshit for a bit, and I could have definitely gotten her number too, but I pass. She's moving to San Francisco anyway. If I were really on the case I could have worked it - told her I live up there or have a second home up there, and created this whole giant house of lies out of thin air; flown up there a few times and back the next morning before my wife got home from work, but, no way, not now. I don't need to get laid THAT badly!

I get what I need from the car and head back. I make sure I catch up with this one MILF - her face looks exactly like an actress who's been in quite a few films, whose name I can't place. Maybe it's her. Tan; brown hair with blonde streaks, cut in a bob; dark blue tattoo high on on her upper arm, ROUND ass - Jesus! - and very round cantelope sized probably fake tits. Not bad fake, though; these are nice, very expensive and very well done fake ones. Who knows, maybe they're real. Man oh man. She's mid 30's or so, and definitely would appreciate the attention. We bullshit for a moment, and as we round the corner I ask, "What call are you here for?" Just then we round the corner and there's her infant daughter in a stroller being held by this woman's elderly mom. "My daughter." Oh well. I wasn't going to get her digits anyway.

After the audition the wife wants to go to Whole Foods. Ok. While she's in line to get a gourmet sandwich, I'm off a ways looking at "food" (translation: "women.") Suddenly I turn and see this one, HO my GAWD! Like a God Damn Scotti Andrews. Same body pretty much; same hair, everything. Scotti is an incredibly cute and busty young porn star from Scotland. This girl has really big natural tits, TOTALLY round, I mean spherical. And they're filled with like helium and jello. Well I'll be. The things are a bit bigger than my head, and just absolute perfection. Her body is exactly like I love - well one of the ways - but very hard to describe. Mainstream actresses and musicians just don't have bodies like this. She's not skinny, but not exactly thick, either. She's VERY curvy, including a big, juicy bubble butt, perfectly round. But say the word "curvy" and people think you're saying "fat, but I like it." I'm telling you, this girl is like, the best way to describe it is, picture the heaviest centerfold ever featured in Playboy. A girl who, you can't see her ribs at all, but she's not overweight. Probably a 30" waist, so, not skinny, but not fat either. And a 40" ass, and double D's. She turns and looks at me. Dammit, if my wife hadn't been around I could have just lavished charm and praise and romance on her and gotten her number.

Man, my heart actually ached, still does. I actually felt like I was in love. I flashed forward and imagined dating her and so on. Man oh man. How could I have let her get away? I feel kind of heartbroken to be honest. That must sound crazy.

I'll dig up some pictures of Scotti and post them, you'll see what I mean.

Motley Crue

I'm watching this documentary on Motley Crue and how some of the guys' managers were trying to get them back together for a reunion tour so they can make some money. Mick Mars, one of the guitarists, has ankylosing spondylitis, a currently incurable disease which over time fuses the bones of the spine together. The guys from the band hadn't seen him in years, so when they saw him, frail and gaunt like an anorexic, they were shocked. Mick did a little interview in which he said that to combat the pain, he started taking opiates, and became addicted. I'll try to get this as verbatim as I can because I just saw it not 40 seconds ago, but he said, "I felt like I was screaming for help, but no-one was coming. So I was just alone in this 5800 square foot house, dying. I guess I had a death wish at that point."

He's just a skinny middle-aged guy, alone and in pain with no one trying to help him. All that fame, money, mansions, women, cars, guitars, none of it mattered. Fuckin' a.

That's not my point though. Not what you think. I'm not saying that money can't buy happiness or any of that. His wealth didn't matter only because he didn't have a lasting relationship with anyone who offered to help. Same as me. That's what caught my attention. Despite all that stuff, he had fucked up too.

In Flames

My wife told me she wants to separate because she wants more out of her marriage. I guess I can't blame her, but I am disappointed. I thought she'd at least talk to me instead of just clamming up. Anyway we semi- patched things up so it sounds like neither one of us is moving out just yet but I wonder whether it's only a matter of time. And I wonder whether or not it's better that way.

Busywork

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Typical

I finally edited and re-edited my email help request to that local addiction specialist doctor I found. I agonized over it and finally clicked Send. Two seconds later here was the response I got in my Inbox:

Hi. This is the qmail-send program at yahoo.com.
I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses.
This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out.

Lemon Law / Crawling In My Skin

god, I hate myself. I can't believe how much I've fucked up, how fucked up I am. I had the best wife I could ask for and a far better match for me than anyone I've ever met or seen. She used to love me so much, she'd sit up nights waiting for me and she'd be happy when I came home, not grumpy like nowadays, like every day. She'd write me letters even when we lived together, she'd make books for me telling me the story of our love, and I did nothing but hurt her again and again, make her lose first her trust and then her love. I see it everywhere, every day. She forgets the baby monitor is on and I hear the phone beep as she scrolls through the caller ID list. She looks in my wallet to check my receipts and look for phone numbers. She looks in my briefcase, and my cell phone address book and recent calls. I get a call at home from a friend while I'm in the shower so I answer it on the first ring and tell him I'll call him back. When I check the computer's History later I see she googled the area code to see where I was getting a quick call from. God, I think I've ruined it forever. It will never be the same. And it was wonderful.

I certainly got wired wrong from the factory because there is no explanation for why I've always been such a fuckup. I had this windup teddy bear with a music box inside and I can remember being four years old and staying up late at night, alone in the dark, listening to it over and over, thinking about how achingly sad and lonely this one riff, these three or four notes sounded. Most four year olds are not like that. Thirty years since I've turned that key, and those notes haunt me even to this day.





The worst part is she has no idea. I shut her out completely, so she has no idea how I really feel. She thinks I'm just this nothing person who sits on the computer and ignores her, doesn't care about her, prefers surfing the web or messenging my buddies more than talking to her. She doesn't know I'm dying inside, wishing I could be productive, get on with my life, with our lives, be nice to her, do more work around the house, recultivate my interests and hobbies, just not be a ghoul with no lifeforce. And I'm too scared to tell her. I'm too timid to really tell her how I feel about anything. So she has only the faintest idea of who I really am. Isn't that wild?





I really wish I could kill myself but I have a daughter now, and my poor dad, he's been through so much, had his heart broken so many times starting from childhood. It might make him feel like he's cursed, when really I'm the one who's cursed. And there's my mom, my sister, my wife, they would all be so sad. Not really anyone else; I have some friends who'd be sad but not really. Mostly people would laugh at me, all the people who were jealous of me, the people who find me threatening and easy to hate for being smart, the people who look down on me for how fucked up I was and how easy to rip off. So i won't be killing myself any time soon. By the time it'll be okay to, it'll be too late to bother, and if you think about it or use a life expectancy calculator it's not likely I'll make it to that point anyhow. So I just have to hang in there and keep being a fuckup until I can punch out or it happens for me. Overall, what a shit life it's been so far, and what a pathetic waste and a joke it's about to be for the next twenty years as they whiz by. If you think about it, twenty christmases is nothing.