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bukowski was a faker.

steppin out of bed.
Finding coffee like a gift, already made. Too strong, but I'm humble with it.
Hmm.. sitting down, stomach muscles still aching. But I'll do those crunches again today anyway.
My eyes are burning.
I slept plenty. Really. Why the hangover here?
Well, I know why.
My body doesn't like it when I sleep from 4-9 and then switch it up to 8-1.
But I was *talking* dammit. And would have continued talking if my dad hadn't gotten a call from the base. And I would have called Mr. Lovah Lovah back... If I hadn't put my head on the pillow to wait for the all clear and woken up again about 11 to take off my glasses...


Ever try looking for someone? I know he exists. I know he gets a government check. I know he is probably in the state. I know his full name, all his priors and his areas. The problem comes in when the last solid adress I have for him... well... I don't know if he's lived there in the past 3 years. The place I know for a *fact* he was living was only given to me as "some place in newport news." He's probaby been taken in on several small charges and if he's off meds again (which by his voice he sounds like) he may even be back in one of the local padded tanks.


I tried talking to someone about this the other day, but he was all wrapped up in his own dramas again (still?) so he wasn't catching a word of it. And I don't like beating people over the head to get them to listen.


My dad is agitated. He can't find something. A jar of screws that he knows he has, that he just can't locate.
He's already questioned me. If I go out and look for them and find them, he'll be annoyed, but not pissed. If I got out and look for them and don't find them, he'll be annoyed and pissed off at me for assuming that he couldn't find them.
If I just sit here and ignore this, he might just leave me alone.
But then again, if I just sit here and ignore this, he might get pissed off at my ignoring and launch into me.


It's fun having a case study of mental malady for an authority figure.
They don't know why they do it.... but you do... and you could explain it to them.... but they'd kill you.


Chuck has asked me repeatedly if I know any *normal* people who haven't had horribly fucked up childhoods. I know a few. But that depends on how you define "fucked up."
Everyone I can really identify with has had a screwed up childhood. They don't really have to tell me. I can tell. I just know. I've never had a very solid understanding with anyone who wasn't just all screwed up from the get go. Most of the ones I actually dig though are the ones who fixed themselves along the way.
Neurosis is fine. Just don't maim animals and put them on my doorstep or leave notes scrawled in your own blood tucked into the edge of the screen on my second story window.
Broken and self fixed means that the pieces will always have gaps and chips and sometimes be held together by nothing by sheer will.
It also requires a kind of strength and acceptance that's pretty rare.
I know this because I've seen it.
I know this because I've done it.
heh.
weird to admit that.
I take pride in how strong I can be... but in the end I always just feel so damned weak.


There are just some people I can't help but admire for all the right reasons.


hmm.. more later, I'm sure.

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A Non-Newtonian Fluid

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