Thursday, October 28, 2004

Tryin' to make this work.

I been really tryin' to make this work. Tina is lookin' good, and it has been really sensual to revisit all the old feelings we had for each other and kindle them, etc. This Atkins thing shows no signs of abating, though, and she just seems to be an even bigger jackass every time we go out.

Let me let you in on a little history, here. Last time we broke up was because despite whatever good times we had had, we hadn't really seen all that many other people and I think we both were havin' our curiosities about what it might be like out in the open market. I played it pretty free and had a decent time, and she sprung for all these dudes who were one shave away from shakin' change cups at you on the sidewalk. Pony tails, problems with credit, unable to lease a car, all that crap. I'm talking about guys who crashed at friends' houses even though they had mustaches. You know what I mean.

A couple nights ago we went out to Naomi Sushi (yeah, she had the miso and salad with dressing on the side) and a flick. When we were pullin' on our coats and tyin' our scarves, she notices that the busboy is this guy she dated a little while back —7-ball—and they say "hi" and all that jazz and pretty soon we're in the alley behind the restaurant and he bums a smoke off me (plus two more for later). Of course I ain't any part of the conversation and they are swapping all these names like T-Bone and Terry Chrome and I am picturing trucks with Raiders decals and Calvin going to the bathroom onto the Ford logo or whatever. I do not doubt for an instant that 7-Ball is going to go home and mainline Chinese hot mustard while he gets laid off from his job creating random words for Spam emails. Finally I hit Tina on the shoulder and leave and a little while later she comes and finds me in front of the theater.

Long story short she needs to go with 7-Ball to help this one guy yadda yadda and can she borrow fifty bucks. Yeah I loaned her the fifty and I don't expect it back at prime. I stuck around through the first ten minutes of this Chilean art movie about a man who was trying to start his car and then I bailed for home. I was too steamed to call any dudes over so I just sat and made stinky lines rise from my head while I fumed.

That's where I'm at.