I was distraught. I moved into a place that had two female roommates. They liked me enough to take me in. After that, they just went their way. Their cats charmed me by, one night, sitting on my chest and rumbling.
I liked Leslie. I had a crush on her. She was a little blonde Jewish girl from Massachusetts. Something about girls from MA - they have always clicked with me. This girl had a tall, American boy. I heard them, once. A lot of big panting. And they would all go out to the Silver Dollar for drinks. She later told me she was just fine, leaving this whole Wisconsin drinking life.
My car was stalled in the parking lot of this apartment building. I moved, and it was still there. Leslie wrote me a letter, asking me to remove it, or something. My friend who taught English in Taiwan, of Irish extraction, tried to help me jump-start the car, but he fucked up the cables, and all I remember is yelling at him. Funny, the time he visitted me, while I was living there, the girls just suddenly alighted, and perked up, because he was so tall, and weather-worn. Stupid girls.
That car sat there, and was eventually hauled away by the city. It had stuff in the trunk which was valuable to me. But, as I said, I was at a major low-point in my life. I didn't have money. I didn't have anything. That car was also full of beer bottles, which I had taken from my girl roommates, and all the friends who had produced them. I was responsible for not one of those bottles. I don't think I was drinking at all, in any way, at that time. Yet my bastard brother shouted, "WHAT BAR IS HE AT?" - but that's another story. The damn bitch would call me up from bars, and then accuse me of being at bars. Crazy asshole.
One day, I was at a mail/packaging business, and the other girl roommate was there, as well, with her boyfriend. You see, there was a time when this girl, Amy, was completely hopeless when it came to her college classes. I saved her. She graduated because of me. So, she sees me in this business, and she tells her boyfriend to give me his jacket. It was cold, and I didn't have a jacket. So. This jacket, when I was completely undone by CFS, I sewed into some kind of super jacket. I sewed umbrella fabric into its insides. Because that was all I had. I never really had a need for it, and gave it away. Thank you, Amy.
I moved into a college dorm, which was weird, because I was done with college. I had a male roommate, from Virginia. I really didn't want to have anything to do with him. But, years later, I sent him a note, and he responded with this really long letter, like I was actually something in his life, which I wasn't. I remember us sitting on my bed, talking about music, and him rubbing his hairy leg. I hate when people rub their legs. I don't know what it means. It bothers me. My own mother did it sometimes. It's like, suggesting sex or something.
I was working on the magazine while I lived here. I was the publisher. Of a small national magazine. Grunt work. I got some of my artistic ideas OKed and made into fliers and ads. I once convinced an editor to take a stance with the magazine which I think ultimately caused the magazine to collapse. So funny. Anyway, I was a part of history. And I convinced the Wisconsin Historical Society to archive various writings and mags related to this enterprise. So, some of my own letters are archived there. Snicker. It was a movement. A sad little movement. With lots of gay people and feminists. Seriously, folks, you have NO idea of how progressive I have been.
At this cramped little dorm apartment, I had the boss's daughter and her friend come over and do inserts, or some damn magazine thing. It was so cute, them laughing and singing. Um. Maybe I should mention that this same girl once caught me somewhat, shall we say, compromised in her boss's bathroom, once? But that was fine because they were Jewish. What a life. I'm so funny and pathetic.
I also entertained the new guy, who would be replacing me at the mag, at this apartment. This is the same guy who would one day THROW MY SPIRAL NOTEBOOK INTO THE TRASH, FOREVER TO BE LOST. 2 million words, lost. He was also, Jewish, btw. I was surrounded by Jews, those days. I worked in a Jewish deli. When I was on my way up, the Jews were great. When I was on my way down, they were terrible. I say what it is.
While I was living in this little dorm apartment, I met Amanda. I was on a bus, coming back from Illinois, and she ended up sitting next to me. She talked like a drill press, twisting her head like a parrot, to listen, to think, to laugh. I have never met anyone like her, because possibly she was on crack or something. One of the most amazing creatures I have ever met. My heart goes out to her now, wherever she is. She had a friend who had a Native American name - Squamish? So, this, "Squalawhomanesh" girl was from Seattle, of course. Amanda was from Alabama. Her father had given her $1,000 to just LEAVE. Go anywhere. Just leave. So, that's what Amanda did. She ended up meeting Squalawhomanesh in Seattle, and now she was on a bus through Madison. We definitely clicked. But, in my handicapped life, it was all I could do, just to keep up with her. Someone so erratic, there's usually abuse behind it, right? What a beautiful and sorrowful creature. This is one person I might have tried for, but I had too much going on, mostly, the crash of CFS, and legal issues.
I always get the girls when I can't have them. They are attracted to me when I am unavailable. In addition to this, I pursue someone, then give up, uninterested, and then that person finally decides to like me, and I don't care anymore. It's too late. I've seen what you are, I don't care anymore. You were too slow. You waited too long. You lusted after me only because I was gone. History, bitch.
Amanda and Squalawhomanesh came over to my dorm apartment and left their travel stuff there. We were officially friends. But, they were shacked up with some guys, whom they somehow knew, which is always the case, isn't it? Somehow, there are these other guys, just creeping around, and providing sex for whatever reason, and there is sex and sex and more sex it is constantly sex. With these completely anonymous guys. Who just come out of nowhere. Am I right?
During my troubles, and during my collapse from CFS, I would go to a popular pizza place, right on State Street, no longer for a slice of pizza. I went there for an ice cream cone or sundae, and a coffee - two of the worst things you can do for CFS. But, I was trying to get my energy up. Sugar. Caffeine. Sports on TV. There was a girl who worked there who liked me. She had a nice face. But a gigantic ass. I don't know why gigantic asses happen. It is an anomaly to me.
I don't know what kind of person would ever let their ass become gigantic. I don't know what is on their minds that says to their ass, "Grow exponentially." I don't know if it is some kind of depression beyond the throes of depression. I don't know it. I don't what it is.
It's like there is this cadre of females just brooding their damn fat asses hoping some black guy comes along and says, "Yeeh, man, I'll slap that damn fat ass, oh yeeh." Ha, ha. Seriously, fat asses are a big problem. And I seriously do not know what to do about fat asses. I am sorry. I am sorry for all the fat ass people. God forgive you. For whatever caused your asses to get so damn fat. It must be the devil, because jam don't shake like that.
So, this girl was behind a countre, and you really couldn't see how gigantic her ass was. But she liked me, and I kinda liked her, until, of course, I discovered that her ass extended through three time zones. So sad. Another fine girl lost to gigantic assissism. There is no justice in the world. What are these people going to do. Become librarians, with their asses just getting bigger and bigger, and pretending that there is nothing wrong, and chiding you for your late fees?
But. SIR. I mean madame. Your ass is so particularly large. Don't you think I deserve a little leniency on account of that? Like, shouldn't you be banished to some ring of hell or something, or be utilized for better energy consumption? At the very least, you should be on an island somewhere where our capacity to not understand your affliction need not be summoned?!? You have a gigantic ass. How is it that you are even allowed to talk to me?
I mean, seriously What is happening back there. What is this? How does that even happen? I want explanations! I want science! And I want to get away from all these gigantic asses that seem intent upon circumnavigating my existence. At least, if your world floods, you will just float away. If you get into a car accident, you will have an extra explosive device. Whatever they're called. If you go ice-skating, you can fall, and just roll away. But, I am telling you! I don't don't like the looks of it!
So, back to our story...
I am on State Street with Amanda, and fat-bottom girl is looking out the window, watching. We are sitting together. I take Amanda's hair, and play with it, telling her something amazing. I didn't expect that to have such a deep impact. But it did. She followed me to the bus shelter. And just swooned at me. Wanting me to rape her right there and then. And fat-bottom girl is watching this. I think I was the one who boarded a bus first, and disappeared. From all the trial and tribulation. Fat-bottom girl never treated me the same, after that. Because I was hot stuff, now. Because, what? I twirled a girl's hair?
But, it mattered to Amanda. And, in revolt, what did she do? She shaved her head, bald. Surrounded by all those creepy guys. This is the impact I have on the world. I create lesbians, or something. Actually, that really did happen. I had a girlfriend and I turned her into a lesbian. But, that's another story...
I was living in my cramped dorm apartment, and I lost Amanda. Then, I moved into a new place, still working on the magazine. I'll write about that later. After that, I caught a plane to New York. I took the train to Philly. I lived with a friend, until I found a place on the near west side, close to the university. I'll never forget the continental Indian girl who showed interest in me. I was living with a Chinese student of surgery, or something. He wanted to get my brain - my bones - biopsied. No, thanks. Eventually, after I had left my job, I had no other food in the apartment, so I ate his old mayonnaise, which was in the OFF fridge. I got food poisoning, for three days. I nearly died.
Anyway, whilst I was living at this Philly place, I walk into a Kinko's copy shop, and I see two girls, copying their breasts on the machines. So, I go over there, of course. Guess who it is? Amanda and Squalawhomanesh. I don't know why they were in Philly. If it was just something. Or if they heard me say I was headed there. But it was freakazoid. Just to run into them. Especially at a time when my life was so amiss, so adrift. I haven't even told you the more serious issues going on in my life. Not sure I ever will.
So, we meet up, they invite me to a party. I go to the party, and Squalawhomanesh is all dressed in skimpy black lingerie, for some reason. It actually might have been because I had once said something about lingerie. Some people have no lives. But, it was weird. She was so skinny, and completely unattractive. Just weird. Fair enough party, though.
Some creepy guy - yet another from out of the woodwork - invited me and Amanda up onto the roof. To get up to the roof required making a leap over stairs into a small aperture above. I would have taken this on, any other time in my life. But not now, because I sensed that I was ill. So, Amanda and the creepy guy went ahead, onto the roof, and I felt like a loser.
I had a good time in Philly, despite my illness. I discovered this anarchist hangout, which was great. I ate broccoli pizza all the time. I met some cool people. I was visitted by high-school friends. I caught up with an army friend from Madison. It was pretty good. I had money. I had solitude. I had opportunity. I also had a warrant out for my arrest. I collapsed from CFS. I convinced city workers to buy me a bus ticket out of there, rather than have me leaching off their services. I can talk my way through anything, even while incapacitated.
So, now we get to Windy. Windy had a chest that preceded you in all your travels. I also met her on a bus. She was from New York, and really tantalised me. She was beginning college at the UW, so I told her to look me up, if she needed a friend. We spent some time walking around, down by the lake, while the wind was blowing her hair. So, I asked her, "Can I call you 'Windy'?" And she said I could call her anything I wanted. I think I was not yet aware of how compliant females could be, at the time. If I had such knowledge, I could have sewn my seed far and wide across the continent and beyond, probably up to Pluto. But, I went to Catholic schools. My whole life has been spent on growing up and out of that mental circumcision.
Whilst I was living with Leslie and Amy, Windy actually did call. She left a message with Amy. I had no idea who this was. Then, I finally remembered, "Windy". I smiled, and Amy smiled back at me. "Oh, yeah. Windy."
It's so sad that my life was so messed up, then, that I could not connect with these girls. It is a great, great loss. To them and to me. I have met so many wonderful, amazing people, for whom I have had immediate love. But the circumstances of my life - my financial status - and what have you - just pushed me past these opportunities. And something inside me knew that this was how it must be. I knew I was ill, and I could not burden anyone else with this problem. Because I am a good person, in case any of you missed this.
There was another time, on a bus. A girl, who called herself, "Wednesday," took me to the back, and flouted her nether regions at me. Slapping and directing my attention. What was supposed to happen? We were supposed to slip into the tiny bathroom and fumble around? Girls. I think she was just out to diminish any male she could find. Like she was something special. Wednesday. From Ohio. Another little time in my life. I'll tell you something. As interesting as she was? Didn't deserve me. Alright. Because there's something more than spanking your private parts and garnering fascinative TMZ attention. I am sad for her. I don't know what might have happened to her. If I prayed, I would pray for her.
Didn't deserve me.
But she was at a bad time, and probably desrves someone great now. You just never know about life. It's just full of future dead people, trying to figure things out, completely at a loss. What a ride, hey? What a ride!