Melrose

Left for dead.
Finished at 21.
Wouldn't know it to see her today, but she had to pay.
If I can have half her grace maybe I'll find my place.

Sense of Humor

I wonder what a normal second date is like.

I'm guessing it's not like the one I had tonight. There was nothing wrong with the date I had tonight, mind you, but I wonder what normal is like.

So what happened? Nothing dramatic. We went for Thai food. She ordered something I certainly wouldn't have ordered. Then we went to Groundlings show. It was actually kind of funny and I was enjoying myself. It doesn't happen too often. She left to go to the bathroom and then informed me at intermission that the meal wasn't exactly working for her.

We left, which is fine with me. Then we talked for awhile on the street about different things. I am probably way too open. It is a combination of years of therapy and recovery and, frankly age. I simply don't care anymore. I am who I am. I don't hide myself anymore. I'm an open book. I don't know how to make small talk. I think it is a good thing, but I know it is also disarming.

That has nothing to do with anything. Just sort of talking here. Anyway, she told me that she had quit her job to care for her mother who was dying of cancer. She hadn't really shared that with anyone yet (I mean in dating) and she is still trying to find her way back and get past grieving, etc. I feel for her, I really do. Of course, the last girl I dated broke up with me because her sister had cancer (or so she said that was the reason, a month later she was dating someone else, but I'll go with what she told me) so the irony of now dating someone who is still trying to recover from such a loss is, well, funny. I can see it now. I'll date her for three weeks and start to fall for her. She'll then end it, saying she's not ready and then a month later be with someone else. That's what I do, I help people get to the next stage. It's a tremendous sacrifice on my part but I'm glad to be of service.

Sarcasm aside, I like this girl and would like to know her better and see where it goes and I will certainly ask her out again (which she seems surprised by given her bad stomach and candor). But I'm going in with eyes open. If she's not ready, I'm not going to force anything. I need to protect myself. And if I sound like a jerk here so be it. I've spent my life not taking care of myself first and it hasn't really worked out too well.

She already knows all my history (like I said, open book).

Still, maybe soon I'll have an ordinary date. You know, the type where you talk about your favorite food and how you like museums and hiking and long walks.

So...

Can you be Twitter stalked? I just want to know why someone who broke my heart can't seem to decide whether to follow me on Twitter.

I know this sounds really stupid and trivial and it is, but put yourself in my shoes. Someone plunges a knife in you. Your response is to respect that. You don't pursue them after they've dropped you. You don't humiliate yourself or make them think that you are going to try to win them back even after your own path has brought you back to the city you left ten years ago that she happens to live in. She even goes out of her way to make clear that she's not interested by sending you a note letting you know she's with someone else. You wish her happiness and move on.

Except every few months she starts following your stupid twitter feed. Then she disappears. Then she comes back. Then she goes. Then she asks why you don't follow hers. You explain that for your own protection you just don't really want to, etc. She claims to understand and then later stops following you. And now she's started again.

I shouldn't care but it is annoying. She doesn't need to do it for work. Yes, we're both reporters covering the same business but frankly all my stuff gets put out on Twitter through another feed anyway so....

I'm going to see her next week (I know this because we will both likely be covering the same event) and I will again resist the urge to ask what the fuck is up with her and my Twitter feed. I'm tempted just to say I don't care one way or another but could you just make up your mind. Of course, any gesture on my part is giving up the power. Not that I have any, but she doesn't need to know that.

Yeah, this was a waste of six paragraphs but I just had to get it out of me. And yes, I could just block her but again that seems trivial.

Shoot first, aim later

Guess it's time for real update vs. a chapter in a story that maybe I'll do something with sometime.

Passed the six month mark at the job and in the port of last resort. It's a slow Friday and I'm being lazy. I should be working on a story proposal but I just don't feel like it right now. I need to chill.

The bloom is off the rose. I don't regret anything but now that the first six months has passed, the newness with it is gone. Yes, I'm back. Yes, I proved I could still do it. The game has changed a little since I left. Lot more shoot first, aim later. I still have game. Move over, Brett Favre, I'm back. All that shit.

And it's still not enough. I'm passed four years without a drink and almost three years without a smoke. I sometimes crave the latter, I'm doing fine without the former.

I've been on some dates since I've been out here but nothing took. There were two that I liked but they didn't go any where. Next weekend, in a most un-Rambler move I am going to New Mexico for a few days to reconnect with a friend/lover who will be there for a conference or something. I need to get away. The job is very draining and I'm as hard on myself as ever.

Still doing the AA thing. Meetings here are different but I'm not going to bore you with all that crap. I still go five-to-six times a week and am gradually getting to know people. It's not easy. I had risen pretty high up the ranks of the recovery chain in NYC and now I'm at the bottom again.

I am reworking my steps and was doing my inventory or resentment list as it is sometimes known and I think I'm my biggest resentment. Yes, I still hate myself.

And, if you've been paying attention, I've been trying to do some more creative writing. That last effort is not finished but for now I need a break from it. I have an idea for another story that isn't quite so tawdry.

On the family front, life is creeping up. Got a brother who is having heart surgery and a mother who has seen better days.

That's the update.

One of those days

She's Nothing But Trouble XIV

They say you can control if you go out. You can't control if you come back.

Now I know what they meant. I had often wondered how I'd go. To be honest, I always figured I'd have coke-induced heart attack after a night with a whore, porn, phone sex and loneliness. Then I'd rot for at least three days before someone would come looking for me. Hopefully there'd be enough food in the cat dishes so they wouldn't start chewing on me. And until the toxicology came back, my mom would think I just had some undetected heart defect. I was usually pretty good at cleaning up the scene of the crime after my binges.

Then I got sober and the grim reality that I might actually live a long time started to sink in. We all keep living longer and I'm not so sure it's such a good idea. We're not built to take care of all these 80 year-olds. I'd rather go out while I was still in control of my shit.

And now I wasn't in control of anything. I was the wrong place at the wrong time guy you always read about in the New York Post. There would be a page one story in The New York Times when this was all over about how the lives of two New Yorks converged in one bloody night in East Harlem. Some 25 year-old chump would write the story I dreamed of writing that would win the Pulitzer. He'd feast off of our wrong turn. Hell, it would probably become a book and then a movie.

On the plus side, everyone who thought they knew me would be blown away at how I went out. Every girl I'd ever been with would suddenly reevaluate every minute we were together to see what signs they had missed. They'd count their blessings and instead of some sarcastic asshole who couldn't be faithful that they'd wasted a few years with, I'd become their cautionary tale. Their brush with danger.

"Did you know he was into all that?," their friends would ask.

"Well, he definitely had an edge to him," the girls all say back.

Yes, I was about to die and this was the kind of shit running through my head. Audrey was on the couch with her head resting on her knees. Jake's eyes were closed and he was talking to himself and holding Audrey's hand. I was still in the kitchen looking at a half-empty beer calling my name. Fuck it, if I was going out I must well have some more beer. I reached out and grabbed the bottle and chugged it down. Victor turned and looked at me and didn't say anything. In fact no one was saying anything. Lucia was passed out or in shock. Tino had wrapped her hand and at least stopped the bleeding. I don't think that finger is getting back on her hand. When Victor looked away from me I slipped the bottle into my pocket.

"Can I have a cigarette," I asked Victor.

"Fuck, I don't care, have your last cigarette," he said.

I reached into my pocket and grabbed a fresh pack and opened it up and lit a smoke. Audrey looked up at me. I shrugged and tossed her the pack. She took one, lit it and handed the pack to Jake. Pretty soon the whole room was smokey. Victor opened up the window, the one I had almost climbed out of earlier for a smoke. The one with the fire escape.

I didn't know what my plan was, but getting that window open was definitely part one. Part two somehow involved the bottle and the knife that I was still carrying and part three would have something to do with that stash of money.

While I was busy fantasizing, Ricky walked over to Hector and whispered in his ear.

"Shit man, I don't care. Do what you want," Hector said.

Ricky then walked over to the couch and grabbed Audrey.

"Get off of me."

"Come on honey, time to have some fun."

"Don't do this," she pleaded.

"Don't fight it," he said.

He pulled her from the couch and dragged her to the bedroom. Audrey grabbed her purse. Jake and I sat there like pussies. To be fair, there wasn't much we could do and honestly, it was now two against two.

I looked over at Jake and tried to make eye contact but he was still in another world.

"Jake, you OK?"

"No, I'm not OK. I'm not OK at all. I don't even know what I'm doing here. I don't even know you. An hour ago I'm sitting in a bar minding my own business and now I'm about to die. I mean, what the fuck?"

"Yeah, it's messed up."

Just then there was noise from down the hall. Audrey was screaming and then there was a loud crash.

"Now shut up already bitch," Ricky said.

I could hear him tearing at her dress. I looked out the window and in the building across the way but no one looked back.

The bed in the other room begun to squeak. Audrey was crying. Ricky was breathing heavy. The bed begin to really crash into the wall. All of a sudden the noise stopped. I looked at Jake and then at Victor and Hector. Then the bed started to move again.
I grabbed another cigarette and had just lit it when Audrey screamed again.

"No, don't please."

There was another crash and Audrey screamed again.

Victor nodded at Hector who went down the hall to see what was going on.

Hector knocked on the door.

"Ricky, what the fuck?," Hector said.

There was no answer.

I could hear Hector start to open the door. Victor also moved towards the hallway. I reached into my pocket and got the bottle out. Tino watched me and nodded his head and grabbed another bottle.

Hector opened the door.

"Ricky? Girl what the fuck did you do. Fuck"

Now it was time for Hector to scream. It was more of a gurgle. He came staggering out of the hall clutching his throat as blood spurted out on the floor and collapsed into the living room

Not wanting to waste a moment and having no idea what the fuck was going on I threw my bottle as hard as I could at Victor and got him in the back. Tino then smashed him in the head with his bottle and shoved him to the ground, grabbed his gun and pumped two bullets into him.

Audrey came out of the bedroom covered in blood.

"Are you OK."

"No, I'm not OK, I'm pretty fucked up. But that mother fucker's dead."

"I think everyone's dead," I said.

"Except us."

She's Nothing But Trouble XIII

The butt of the gun clipped me on the side of the head. It hurt. At least it wasn't a bullet. Small favors.

If that wasn't bad enough, the impact of the hit sent me flying into the wall and then I hit the ground and landed right on the empty bottle in my jacket, which promptly shattered sending glass fragments into my chest and stomach. Audrey screamed and Jake turned around and ran back to the door. The guy who hit me went after Jake, got him by the back of his jacket and threw him to the ground. Another guy came out of door two with a gun drawn. Audrey's ring was definitely not worth all this.

"Where do you think you're going?," he barked.

"Uh, I was ... "

I rolled over on my back and said, "He was going to put another quarter in the meter."

That got me a swift kick in the ribs which had the dual effect of reminding me about restraint of pen and tongue and driving a few more glass fragments into me.

"You think you're funny?," our host asked. "Who the fuck are you anyway."

Audrey, the public relations expert decided this would be a good time to explain our presence and try out her

"Hi, I'm Audrey. We were here earlier and left something here and came back to get it," she said in her calm voice.

"Oh yeah, what'd you leave?," psycho number one asked.

"I left a ring here," Audrey said. "I'm Audrey, by the way, what's your name."

I was still on the ground and in pain or I would've rolled my eyes.

"I heard you the first time bitch." Then he looked down at me and Jake, who was also still on the ground.

"And who the fuck are these two?"

Audrey introduced us. Shouldn't someone say what a lovely evening and would we like some tea?

"Get up," psycho number one said to me and Jake.

Jake hopped up. Me? I took a little longer. Too long I guess because the next thing I knew psycho number two was grabbing me and pulling me up. Then we were escorted down the hall and into the living room.

Once in there we were greeted by the sight of Lucia and Tino bound and gag to their chairs in the little kitchen and a third psycho standing by them. Lucia and Tino looked at us and each other.

"Who are they?," psycho number one asked Lucia and Tino.

Psycho number three took off Tino's gag.

"They're nobody man. Just customers," Then to us, "Audrey, what the fuck are you doing back here?"

"I came back for my ring," she said.

"Ring?"

"Yeah, that one stole my ring."

Tino looked at Lucia who rolled her eyes.

"That's it, they're customers?," said psycho number one.

"Yeah Victor, that's it they don't have anything to do with this shit so let them go."

I resisted the urge to say that sounded like a good plan.

Victor looked us all over and then looked at Audrey.

"Where's this ring you came for?," he asked.

Audrey looked at Lucia and pointed.

"It's on her hand," she said.

Victor looked at the psycho number three.

"Ricky, get this bitch her ring back from that bitch."

Ricky walked over to Lucia and without hesitating pulled out a knife and cutoff her ring finger and tossed it, ring attached at Audrey.

"There's your ring bitch, " Ricky said while blood spurted out of the base of where Lucia's ring finger used to be and she bit through her gag and screamed. Ricky grabbed a beer from the table and poured it onto Lucia's wound.

"That'll keep it clean babe."

"Aren't you going to take your ring Audrey?," Victor asked.

Audrey looked at Lucia's finger on the floor and threw up.

"Whoa, you better not puke on me bitch," Victor said. Then he bent over and picked up the finger and put it in Audrey's face.

"Now take your ring back. You came all this way for it."

Audrey reached out and took the ring off the finger and then started to run down the hall when psycho number three grabbed her.

"Let me go, I'm going to throw up again."

"Let her go Hector, it's OK."

Hector let Audrey go and she ran in the bathroom and we all got to hear her barf into the toilet.

I looked over at Lucia whose eyes were moist and her skin was pale. She was still bleeding profusely and looked like she was going into shock.

I looked at Victor, who was still holding Lucia's finger.

"Can we at least put the finger on ice," I said.

"What?," Victor said.

"It could still be reattached."

"You care about her?," Victor asked me. Then he threw the finger at me, took out his gun, walked over to Lucia and pointed it her head.

I caught the finger and staggered to the kitchen. My head still hurt but I wasn't bleeding. My chest was cut up from the bottle and blood had soaked through my shirt, but I was OK. I opened the freezer and put Lucia's finger on ice.

"Victor, don't," Tino pleaded.

"What? You think you have any say in what happens to her, Tino. You're next you don't give me what I'm after."

"I told you, I don't have it."

The toilet flushed. Audrey came out and walked back towards us.

"You feel better honey?," Victor asked.

Audrey kept silent.

"Hope you at least brushed your teeth. I don't want to be tasting puke later."

Audrey started to back down the hall but Hector grabbed her arms.

"Just stay there," Hector said.

I opened the fridge and grabbed a beer and twisted the cap off.

"What the fuck are you doing?," Victor asked. "You just open up someone's fridge and take what you want? Who the fuck raised you?"

"Sorry, I'm thirsty."

"Put the fucking beer down and get over there and sit down. Hector, put the other two over there."

I sat in a chair at the table by the kitchen while Audrey and Jake were shoved on the couch.

"You're awfully quiet big boy," Hector said to Jake.

Jake sat there. His eyes were tearing up.

"Don't kill me," he said.

"Yeah, it's a little late for that," Victor answered. "You're all dead."