Edgy

I've been on edge all day. I've snapped at a few people.

Bowie came over on Saturday, and we wasted a good amount of time. I forced him to finally read my slowly-expanding script - if you have a link to it, check it out. It's been updated. Later on, we took off. He headed home, and I went to meet Francis at about 9 PM. He and some other upstate nerds came down for the comic con. We talked for a few minutes, and then I left for Rocketship. The crowd was just too much for me at this point, so I called Ed Cunard & asked him to bring a few people outside. I owed Mordechai some prints for his daughter's birthday two months ago, and finally got a chance to deliver them; he lives in Teaneck, NJ, and had come out to the party. I was there for maybe 20 minutes and started to feel tense, so I left. I'm glad I came out, though; I miss my friends/CBR nerds.

I headed ten blocks over and visited my former landlady Jan & her cats. I was just there last weekend, but I really needed to use the bathroom. I stayed for a little over an hour.

I left at midnight and got home around 1:30 AM.

Sunday was grocery & laundry day. I got caught up with my parents. Dad's knee isn't doing too well. The cold, and the many feet of snow aren't helping. I realized that I still haven't done my taxes. I know I'll owe state (always do), but don't know about federal. It should be fine, though. I got a surprise $800 back last year, after I thought I owed $200.

I might go to the gym tonight, depending on how I feel. I need to get back there. This weight gain is really bad.

Recluse, Phase Three

Have you ever stood at the rear end of the subway platform, waiting for your train to arrive? It finally shows up, and as each car passes by you scan the passengers, looking for someone you're avoiding.

You take a breath as each car crawls past you.

You don't want to walk into the same car as that person, because doing so would create a whole lot of awkwardness, and probably cause an anxiety attack.

On the plus side, I have some leads for a sliding-scale clinic. I just have to get off my ass and call.

For some reason, I don't feel like doing so.

NYCC

New York Comic Con is upon us next weekend at the Javitz center.

Due to my mental state, I'm staying the fuck away.

But go to table A249 in Artists Alley and give some love to Khary Randolph, Wesley Gunn, Danny Kimanyen (aka Kano) and Larry Christmas. And if you have a copy of the Boondocks DVDs, have Khary sign it. He worked on some character designs on episode 5, "A Date with the Health Inspector."

You would think...

...that after being so lonely for so long, I'd be used to it by now.

If only that were the case.

I skipped out of work an hour early Monday night to have dinner with my recently-infected gal pal. We walked up to Yaffa Cafe on St. Marks, where our smart-assed waiter made me laugh and had a bit of fun at my friends' expense.

She's still seeing the "gift-giver." Despite the STD, she seems pretty happy with him. Good for her, I guess.

Throughout the meal she said, "you look sad" or "depressed."

Well duh. I couldn't talk about it there in such a public place.

She told me that socializing is difficult for everyone. Sure, it's not exactly the easiest thing. But how many people have problems just ordering a meal, or even talking with their friends?

Right before dessert, Miles' It Never Entered My Mind came on over the speakers and I nearly lost it.

I screwed up at work on Tuesday. My inability to give a flying fuck about this job or anything that matters is reappearing.

I just got back to the office after picking up some Chinese food. The classy restaurant downstairs is packed. I think I'll stay in the office a bit later to avoid the crowds of happy people. It means I won't get home until 2 or 3 AM, but it's either that or face an anxiety attack in public.

I need something good to happen soon.

Come on, Mega-Millions; daddy needs a new life. This one's been on the shelf for too long.

At the drop of a hat.

My baseline mood as of late has been numbness. It's that kind of limbo where you don't want to feel anything, because the highs are so infrequent that you don't remember the last one, and because the lows are constant and overwhelming.

There have been a few times this past week where something hits me with the force of a wrecking ball. The pain swells up and I can't help but cry. A song, a painting, a show, etc., will trigger something deep inside and I just lose it.

To combat this a little bit, I went up to Port Chester and paid Chris a visit on Sunday. Hanging out with Yanellie & the boys was a nice change of pace. Victor calling me "da-da" was pretty funny, considering he looks a little like me (blond/reddish hair, blue eyes) and both of his parents have darker features. This is why I call him Mini-Me. But then, he calls his own mother "da-da," so the humor is lessened. Despite the screaming & whining & pooping, it's nice being Uncle Jeff. Getting some homemade pizza a la Yanellie was damn good, too. Fresh mozzarella, basil, & li'l tomatoes. Mmmmmmmmm.

Bilingual

I learned all the Spanish I'll ever need from Speedy Gonzales.

Well, except for two key phrases:

Donde esta el bano?

and

No tengo dinero.

(Yes, I'm too damn lazy to put in the accents & tildes.)

Just great

Waking up to the sounds of your roommates' girlfriend having an orgasm isn't helping my loneliness & depression.

Sure, she's much quieter these days, but sound travels easily in the house.

I am Murphy's Law given flesh.

This post is brimming with Too Much Information. As such, you'll have to highlight the rest of it.

Also, if you work/have worked in my current office, you really don't want to read this one.

Waaaaaay back when I lived in Brooklyn, I had a house mate who I became rather close with. She and I bonded over bad Mexinese food, and cheesey romantic movies. A few of you reading this have met her and may remember her.

(Not ringing a bell? She was the tall, busty redhead.)

She's a photographer by nature, but became a burlesque dancer after school to pay the bills.

She came over to the office shortly after New Years, and gave me a belated-birthday lapdance, which quickly escalated into her being nearly naked, (big shocker) getting my first kiss ever, and me doing wonderfully naughty things to her.

She did not do wonderfully naughty things to me, because I still had shittons of work to do and I wasn't about to lose my virginity in my goddamn office, on that crusty orange couch that's covered with papers and dust, with nasty solvent fumes, where my boss could walk in at any minute and fire my pale, fat ass.

After I was done fingerfucking her brains out, I had to catch my breath. She said I looked depressed. My heart was racing; I just wasn't prepared for this. Maybe it had to do with the abnormality my EKG picked up.

She got dressed. The fumes were really irritating her and she left shortly after a brief making out session. I've spoken to her once since then, and she didn't seem weirded out by what we did. Hell, she joked about using me. (Is it really using when the used party enjoys it?)

Never in a million years would I expect to be in a "friends with benefits" situation. It's not what I want out of life, and it wholly lacks the emotional & intellectual intimacy I seek. But I'm as lonely as ever and will take pretty much whatever I can get.

And I can't even get that.

I called her & sent text messages, and never got a response.

Then last week I finally got through to her and she says, "I was with another guy after you and now I have herpes."

I thought, steeped in denial, this could end up being her way of toying with my already addled brain (and other parts). She's got that sense of humor. But then she mentioned her doctor, and I stopped laughing.

She's not promiscuous. She's been with no more than four other guys.

So I'm feeling all sorts of sad, pissed off, and cock-blocked. And ripped off; I wasted money on condoms & lube, all for naught.

On the plus side, I no longer have 24-hour mental erections from thinking about her.

Now I'm getting ready for the role of supportive friend again, which I'm quite sick of being. Mike suggested that I could just cut her loose, but I really do care for her. She doesn't have many friends, and no one she can really depend on.

I think Morts put it best:

"Hi, Jeff? This is Life calling. You know that bit of fun you had? Yeah, that was a mistake. We now return you to your regularly scheduled drama and misery."

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I finally got in touch with her last night. That very night we had our fun, she met someone on the train going home. She said that I had rejected her, despite it being her decision to leave.

She was ABSTINENT for five damn years. She could have broken that spell with me (and my 28 years & counting of abstinence, thank you very much), but NOOOOOOO, I had to be responsible and do my job.

Yay, I get to go on another guilt trip.

She didn't even catch herpes by having sex with him; just sleeping with him & wearing his clothes. Apparently he's a bit of a scrub, has slept with many women, is 21 years old, has mold on his chest & other rashes. None of the other women he's been with seem to have caught anything.

She's on medication now, and she's trying to get him some help. He was kicked out of his parents' home when he was 15 for getting a C in a class.

They're apparently strict.

She figured, "well, I already have the disease, we might as well have sex." Yes, they used protection.

She's still kind of dating him, and doesn't know if she should dump him or not. I say dump him, but I have no clue as to how relationships work. She says he's really sweet.

She's not mad at me, and kind of mad at him, but isn't sure she should be because he was just so ignorant.

I'm mad at myself for not skipping work & taking her home. I'm mad because it's the second time I've failed to act, even though I had no way of knowing this time.

I don't know whether I should laugh or cry.

Aw, sure I do. Cry it is.

I'll probably see her again Friday or Monday night, but we obviously aren't going to do anything.

My first kiss, and I can't even do that with her again.

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I was asked recently, "so, what do you do for fun?"

I didn't have an answer.

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What's the point of it all if everything gets exponentially shitty? I'm getting closer & closer to packing everything up and becoming a hermit.