pyroguysr's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda's You know, I used to care about making sure my wife and son were dressed in nice clothing. I used to care about how my yard looked and how to decorate my office and my living room and I used to care whether or not the China matched at a party or if the silver service was polished. I used to care about how good I looked or if my son wasn't minding his manners. I used to care about whether I was serving the right white wine with hors d'oeurves or if merlot were better than cabernet sauvignon for beef dishes and, speaking of them, whether the dishes were washed or were piling up in the sink (heck, I still care about that... I hate dishes in the sink!) I used to care about whether or not I made more money than my neighbor or what kind of car I drove or if my suit needed to go to the cleaners. I used to care whether or not the trash got out on Thursday night, or whether I'd completed my notes for the next Boy Scout meeting or if I did the requested assignment for the VFW, the Lowell Labor Day Parade Committee or any number of organizations I used to belong to. I used to care if I was renting or owning a house. I used to think about maybe having one more child... a little girl that I could spoil to death, but who would turn out to be a wonderful, lovely girl like Sneech, Kara, Wench or DragonStar. I used to think about how neat it would be to be a grandfather and bounce my grandkids on my knee, homeschool them and give them a REAL education. I used to worry about whether or not my son was turning out OK and if he was getting the best education I could get him. I used to worry about "making it" and "success" and "my future." I used to worry about my retirement and whether or not the wife and I would have enough money to finally travel to Ireland. I used to worry about how she was feeling, whether her arthritis was causing her more pain or if she was having a relatively "good" day. I used to worry about trash in the yard, weeds in the garden, whether the yard needed mowing or if the roof was leaking. I used to worry about whether or not I was neglecting my friends. I used to worry about time. I used to dream about "how it was gonna be" when I got published. I dreamt about winning the lottery (probably the only way I'll ever afford a house again). Hell, I used to dream of a better life. Now all I worry about is whether or not I'll make it through tomorrow without cracking open that bottle of Bushmills sitting on my shelf. The wife told me today that her mom's 1100 sq ft slab, just-side-it-with-plywood, three-bedrooms-but-two-are-little-more-than-walk-in-closets, built-in-1962 crappy little house in San Diego was recently appraised at $415,000... yes, I said four hundred and fifteen thousand dollars... with a dinky lil yard of burned out grass! (I think my Mom's house will come in at around $200k, but the home I bought is in such dire need of repair that Johanna was only able to get it appraised for $100k - and we bought it for 94k 12 years ago!!!) I used to dream... Anytime my dreams want to come back and roost, please do. And if anyone sees them, please redirect them my way? I'm worried about those dreams. Gives me insomnia now, not knowing where they've gone. Oh, and if you see "inspiration" traipsing around, send her back to me as well. I can't seem to write anything other than these damned diary entries. But today I have to mail off a shirt to Sneech, a Christmas prezzie I bought for Abbi_Normal but left in Baltimore under the bed, another prezzie for AlmostAngel that was in the same bag and send to my friend Angella back in Indiana (who is now married and preggers!!) a poster I bought of James Leary (they guy in Buffy the Vampire Slayer that looks like someone hit him in the face with a bunch of pizza dough - I met him at Fantasm and got Angella an autographed picture of him). I used to go to Angella's house when she was married to Caroline and watch Buffy with her. (I was in lust with Michelle Trachtenburg). Now she's married to Harry "Hawkeye" Pierce and having a baby by him. Yeah, I'm like you, Kikkles. I do things for a lot of folks that I rarely hear from and ignore those that love me the most (exceptin' Sneech). There's another person I wish I could do a ton of things for, but I just can't (and she won't let me). We both know why. I really need to find a place to live. This "homeless" thing is getting old. I'm losing my self-respect. Thank the Gods and Goddesses there is a show this weekend. I need to take my mind off things. 6:12 am... I really should get some sleep. Ahhhhhh... fuck it! My legs asleep, that's good enough. 5:42 a.m. - 2004-04-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||