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...