Guess I Need To Grow The Fuck Up!!!

“What am I doing? I don't know what I'm doing. I'm doing the best that I can. I know that's all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? Is my work doing any good? Is anybody paying attention? Is it hopeless to try and change things? The African guy is a sign, right? Because if he isn't, than nothing in this world makes any sense to me. I'm fucked! Maybe I should quit. Don't quit! Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don't fucking quit! I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to fucking do anymore! Fucker! Fuck shit!”

-- I Heart Huckabees

I wonder how many blog posts of mine have started with “So there’s this guy…”

But anyway, So there’s this guy… I met him at a bar a while ago, and we hooked up… yes, classy, I know. Since we hooked up, I’ve bumped into him once on the street, seen him at 2 concerts, rubbed shoulders at the same bar a couple of months later, and then last night, he and I took turns using the same mirror at a thrift store. Of course we didn’t acknowledge each other last night (we spoke on all the other 4 occasions - please note: i live 2 blocks from an old pal and 4 blocks from another - i haven't bumped into them ever)… I should have said, “oh hey remember when I had your dick in my mouth?”

How does all of this tie in with I Heart Huckabees? People always say that things happen for a reason… that perhaps we bump into people again and again because there’s something unresolved… that it’s some sort of sign… like this other guy that lived in SF when I lived in LA… I bumped into him on his 3-day trip to LA at a restaurant… and then he had an “assigned” seat right in front of my “assigned” seat in the 50 Thousand person Staples arena for the Pac 10 Tourney… and then, I bumped into him again, at the 50 Thousand person Oakland Coliseum.

What does bumping into Bar Hook-Up mean? Maybe just to let me know that people in my neighborhood do Methamphetamines to lose weight and in my new neighborhood people exercise. What does bumping into Coliseum Boy mean? Nothing. I’m not his type nor is he my type. He tried to kiss me 9 years ago, but now we’ve grown into opposites.

So, “The African guy is a sign, right? Because if he isn't, than nothing in this world makes any sense to me.”

As y’all know, moving is slightly secondary to my psychotic emotional reactions to losing my ex-wife to New York City… see my last email to him:

so basically, i'm psycho -- here's what i continue to discover about myself...

i'm apparently NOT:
patient
understanding

I apparently AM:
selfish
confrontational
emotional
psychotic

and i hate how i'm being with you. and i hate that you'll worry about cancelling on me because i'm soooo not understanding. and i hate that i know you need money and are stressed for time, and yet i'm still psychotic and want your time... selfishness... it's all me.

and i'm just going miss you sooooooooo much.
and i just can't stand it.
and i've paused like 10 times writing this email so the tears will pass.
and you've meant so much to me.
and i hate to think that you've meant more to me than i have to you.
and i'm so sorry for ALL MY WRONGS.
and i wish i could go back and say or do things differently.
and like i said before -- i'd give you the world if you asked for it.
you're as close as close gets.