sometimes i think i should just quit this thing. like yesterday, when i had written notes on a piece of paper two days before of all the many many things i wanted to put here, after so long gone.. and there was a lot. and i got it all out rapidly and with a kind of happy-hungry spirit and it was funny and joyous and telling and all of these things.. and it was from about here ___
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to here ___

and i pushed post&publish and i lost everything in a whirl of evil computer mayhem.. and then i had to rush to work (after forgetting to retrieve the notes i had placed in the trash) and sit next to this very christian woman who was telling me all about some televangelist she loves and, god love her, i can stand her when i'm happy, but i might as well jump out of the car when i'm pissed as all hell, but can't relay those thoughts to her because i can't be terribly honest with her because it may shatter some prestine image she has of the world and how black and white everything is - this person believes this = hell, this person is good = heaven.. right. these things kind of make you weak, kind of make you want to give up entirely. but i guess if i did, the evil computers would win. ?

i want to tell you, at least, about a day in my father's life that needs retelling.
as he drives down tuscawilla from dropping me off at "work", he is relieved after a huge truck gets out of his lane and then almost collides into the back of a car that is for some reason unbeknownst to him not moving.. but he doesn't, whew. further down the road he is passing over winter springs blvd and as a pile of traffic in the left lane begins to slowly make its way over the intersection, after the light turns green, he is speedily going by them in the free lane when he finds that a car from the opposite direction is slowly (very slowly, mind you) turning left across this gaggle of cars wherein there is no place to turn left without certain accident and, again because of his previous lack of sight, he comes frighteningly close to colliding into That car, but somehow he doesn't. nobody knows how. well that's enough excitement for one day. no it's not. later that evening he comes home from picking up jordan, going a little fast, but no worries - wait, worries, a bastard policeman pulls him over and gives him a $90 ticket, a "break". ha. feeling the ramifications of this he picks me up late that night from "work" and tells me about the eventful day and sighs at the relief that it's over. but is it over? naturellement pas! (of course not!) as we're approaching the entrance to our apartment complex the oncoming car that we are waiting to pass throws two gigantic water balloons at our windshield. a shock is right. we were stunned, but not enough for dad to swing the car around and chase after them. well we didn't find them, and we spoke one more time to a police officer, which did nothing. and the little hooligans got away scott free. and it's hard to believe, i know, but this all happened in one day in the life of my father.


thanks axel, i can often be found weeping because i can't get over the fact that you love other men and i can not have you as my personal sex slave. what are you up to?

alan, give me a call back. i'll be at 671-2098 tonight until 10:30.. leave a message, we screen.

lovemelo