Some one once said: "I'm in love with her, and I feel fine." I find that when I am in love with her, all my troubles begin. I feel and want and yearn and have nothing to say. I'd be an ass and it'd be inappropriate to tell her, hey, you know what? I can't get you out of my mind. I mean, I think about you night and day. Help me. I need your help. It's a sickness, or something like that. She'd laugh in my face if she did any thing or give me the number of a 24hr. hot line, of this I am certain.
Hey, have you ever tried one of those "dating services"? She once said to me. No, I replied. I can't do that. I can't join some "speaker's club", as another gal I know once suggested. It's awful, terrible. I can't relate. I can't rely on any thing.
Imagining all these connectivity issues. Getting together doing this that or the other, but nothing, nothing ever happens. I see/meet with this that or the other person, but nothing, nothing ever happens. I don't get it, as it were.
There's more to this, I know. I think I can work it into a story. At least I hope so, certainly. I need to do it. It has to happen. There is nothing else for me. I have to do this. This is what I do.
DATELINE: Cancun, Mexico. Hot weather in MAY, 2008. I am here with my family and we are away from the nortenos for a brief respite and hope is a bit of pull-over buying and even some drunken revelry. I certainly hope so. Hops today, courtesy of Samuel Adam's HALLERTAU
Imperial Pilsner, an intense Hop Experience. 10 bucks for the 4 pack. Not bad if you like the thing. Need to eat though. Will have to break out the bread and lay down the turkey, thin sliced, with a single sheet of mild mozzarella. All on plain Potato Bread, smeared with Grape Seed oil sandwich moistener.
There is too much to read in life and not enough body physicality to get into it and all before you're hurting or dead. Nope, not enough time. Too bad too, people have worked long and hard to get you those words on pages of books you will never read. Shame. Such a sad, and genuinely depressing shame.
The good life would be that I could write this or write to you or speak live at you from the Mexican digs of my Dad's in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mex. before getting on a plane to Cancun, this May, and all that with my portable device no bigger than a deluxe bar of soap, and connected to the WORLD WIDE WEB via satellite or whatever, still connected to my server/service, and not having to pay my pirated body parts to do it.
However, life isn't like that. It is like this: You can do this now, real simple. And the truth of it is, you CANNOT!!! That's what's so inexplicably fucked and what I hate like hell in life, what life in REALITY is. That's what sucks!