I find myself at a fork in the road, and I don’t want to acknowledge it, at all.  I don’t want to confront anything, or figure anyting out.  And, I don’t want to try to make sense of it all.  Just holding on is hard enough.  Just holding on to my disjointed reality, not knowing where any of it’s going…  and, yeah…  that can be frustrating, too.  But, it doesn’t extinguish any possibilities, and it doesn’t force me to process any difficult, or uncertain, situations.  I don’t trust myself to make the right choices, right now, anyway.  I feel like a freaking nutcase. 

"I went in to twelve bookstores looking for Ulysses.  Motherwell led me to believe all my questions would be answered.  Now I have it here sitting on the table.  Another word for the universe…"

I need to start reading a new book.  Got to keep the whole, creativity in / creativity out balance flowing.  The last novel I read was "Venus In Furs" – well, reread, haha, as it is a personal favorite (big surprise).  The whole masochist/submissive thing was always a bit much for some people to wrap their minds around, but it’s actually a pretty primal, basic sort of thing.  Or, I’m just making excuses, and rationalizing…  because, I know it’s messed up, and that it really stems from the worst thing that ever happened to me (as one of my exes who had trouble with it used to remind me all the time – I guess, thinking it came from me being attacked, made it hard for him to play into it.  And, it probably does come from that.

The ex that I speak of…  he knew a lot of the details of what happened to me.  About the rape, and the beating…  and how the bastard cut me…  so, I guess that made the games I played just seem creepy to him.  But, christ, it’s not like I want someone to stab me, again.

"A waterfall from a higher place told me all about you.  The funeral of the man i was told me not to doubt you.  Oh what we could do with your dress up round your shoulders…  we could leave all our fear behind."

Talked to my friend – the guy who said that thing, that upset me last night.  I told him it was my fault.  I was all hysterical and upset, and overly sensitive.  He said he was just exhausted and out of it, and said the wrong thing.  No one can say the right thing, all the time.  And, he does pretty well, being there for me.  He’s managed to help me get where I am.  And, that means everything.

Charlie has slept so much today.

"I went in to the liquor store looking for a bottle, of my favorite bombay gin, the answer to my problems.  But to my delight the bottles were all taken.  Ah yeah, another hero’s night." (Mason Jennings, "Ulysses")

I don’t want to lose all the progress I’ve made.  I want this so much, but moments of wanting it creep up on me, and the people who are watching my back seem to be letting their guard down (probably thinking that I’m going strong , by now, and that they don’t have to fret as much).  But, the truth is, I am going to be sketchy and a basket case, at times – and, that’s how it’s gonna be for a while.  I told Ace that when I was explaining my little over-reaction/meltdown (that happened last night, around 2am).  I can’t let myself mess up, because it would be so easy to go there, again, and so hard to get back to where I am, now.

On the way back from outpatient we saw an old woman fall on the sidewalk.  We ran across the the street to where she was laying in a heap, unable to right herself, and we helped her to her feet.  I picked up her cane, which had fallen out of her reach, and gave it to her.  She insisted she needed no ambulance, and no further assistance, and she quickly scurried off (well, quickly for a crippled, white-haired, old lady – all that considered, she moved at a decent clip, haha).  So then, some yuppy ass woman comes over, and repeatedly says, "that was so nice you, to help that woman," like she was shocked, and honest-to-God impressed.  What the hell else were we going to do?  Leave her to writhe around on the sidewalk?

I guess, a yuppy might.  They got places to be, damn it.  Haha…  what sick f@cks…

Anyway…  that unfortunate, familiar craving has cropped up.  Damn it…  it will pass.  It will.  And the cat is trying to steal my tiramisu.