another one

There is a girl who I fell in love with at the yuppie commerce mercantile of choice, the newest one in town at the intersection of upward and mobile. I saw her pushing a cart in the produce section. I looked like an ass; handsfree cord dangling from ear to rear pocket talking about cheese and Bastille day. I wasn't even on the phone with anyone, I just use the headset as an excuse to act crazy in public and force people to deal with it and regard it as normative behavior.

She almost ran into me by the dairy products, I had "hung up" by then.

She has stars tattooed on her triceps and the pixie-esque/elfin appearance of a young Audrey Hepburn. I am besotted with her.

The next day I got my hair cut. and then went to a bar to meet some friends. SHe was there, appearing literal seconds after I told my friends I was again in love. They forced me to go talk to her so I did.

upon my approach my tongue swelled up like an epileptics and I started to froth a little at the mouth. Quite teh sexay. We got past that little difficulty and after a few awkward moments involving my dabbing spittle from the front of my shirt while feeding line after line of charm to her I walked away with a phone number and the distinct impression that I was hated like Mussolini.

I drove into the desert for miles until my cell lost reception and then I plugged in the earpiece and dialed her number. we had a fourty minute conversation about raisng babies with no clothes on some tropical beach, we spoke of that feeling of having found ones soul mate and the instantaneous attraction that was obvious to us both and how we should have got down in the produce section when we first met. I cried and told her of being inappropriately touched by a field hockey coach at the age of seventeen. I can't seem to recall anything she said.

We are in love.


I've spent the past few weeks in a haze I see stars on arms in the oddest places. It is a fevered dream with no end. I put a down payment on a boat and a little chip of an engagement ring from Kaye jewelers. I work three jobs and sleep two hours a night.

Someone told me she moved to Houston. Without telling me. I think I'm going to date a stripper instead.

Holiday in Cuba

So I am provided with everything I need here. They feed me. I am allowed outside for an hour a day. During this time I am sometimes able to talk to others here like me. It is strangely beautiful in this place. But the heat is unlike anything I experienced in my home. And the outfit I am forced to wear is brightly colored orange. It is the color of unhealthy dung. Or carrots.

We grew carrots in the garden of my home.


I have been here for over four years. My feeling is that God has visited this upon me for not behaving. I knew there were times when I was less devout, I did not realize that the punishment would be so harsh. There was a time when it became pointless to live and so I decided that I would stop eating. This was the only positive action I had left to take. (Were I a more educated man I might say that this was the only agency I had in my life.) We all need this agency. To live without it is not to live.

This behavior was not met with approval. A number of us had decided that to die was better than to be animated in this state. We stopped eating. When we became too weak to stand we were placed on litters and strapped down. A tube was forced into my nose and fed into my stomach. Food was flushed down this and I could not vomit it up. This is how broken we all are, how completely dominated we have become. We do not even have the power to starve ourslves to death.

It started when I bought a car to act as a taxi for the foreigners who wanted to poke at the rubble of my country and my countrymens' lives. One night I was driving by the compound of the foreign army, The Americans. My cab was stopped and I was taken out and restrained. I was about to be married before I bought that cursed car. Now I am here.

They say it is the tropics, that this country is a workers paradise. I want only to find my paradise, and yet even the thin trail I saw to get me there was closed off. Now I simply wait in these breezes and let the sun and the palm trees and the sand glare at me. My beard will grow only so long and then they will cut it. I cannot even remember being happy or human.

De-Briefing

The impetus for this is to get me to write. They say write what you know. This is what I know:

• Everything is my fault
• If there are any questions see above

I also know that sometimes I feel like the title (and sub) of this work most efficiently explains my existence in this world. It isn't the happiest story ever told. I figure I could use little snippets of reality as they occur in life and utilize them as jumping off points for fictionalized outcomes that would most likely happen if I acted on many of the impulses I have towards being happier. Like actually talking to people I'm enterested in knowing rather than sipping my coffee and looking away.

Each of these vignettes will end with the enthymematic device of you, O Lonely Reader recalling the title (and sub) as the tale winds up. It's an experiment. I'm involved. It will probably fail. That said I am hopeful for the future of this thingy, so here goes.

I flew from Portland, Or. to the shitty, shitty town I decided to live in while in the throes of a manic fit of expressed self loathing. Last night I saw one of the most beautiful women ever. A slender brunette wearing a green floral top and (this is important) black framed glasses. Recognizing the mighty hammer of Cupid that swings so promiscuously at me I sprang into action. We clicked. I mean I hit it off with this girl the like of which has never happened to me before. We like the same movies in different ways. She thinks mustaches get too little respect and are the sexiest thing since Venus on a clamshell. I find her profession invigorating and worthy of great respect. She has the greatest cat that ever breathed. I am proud to note that my dog makes every humen he has ever contacted him love him like the baby Jesus. I take lattes from independent coffee shops, she prefers Starbucks. She is colored, and I am colorblind due to a freak accident at a power plant I toured at the age of six. She may be green for all I know. It is a love affair for the ages. She completes me.

We married on the riverfront in a ceremony officiated by a pagan junkie who performed the rites for a half eaten donut and a cellphone picture of my blushing brides breasts. This brought the jealousy out. I wandered the streets alone cursing capricious Cupid for making me love a slatternly, wanton women who would do such a tawdry thing for my own personal edification. I thought of slashing her tires, of stalking her ex-boyfriends and harassing her distant relatives with cryptic phone messages routed through Taiwanese phone numbers. I woke in a fog of misery and inchoate loathing, I knew I could never do this...

Here it is

So I figured even the uncool people are doing it now, so I made a blog. Someone is going to regret this.