Friday, June 18, 2010

Fear of Addiction

People fear addiction. That is the reason why no one will talk to me. I get it. I should pretend like I don’t have one. President Obama has one, but it doesn’t change other’s lives, or doesn’t have the potential to.

They fear addiction. Friends and loved ones do. They get scared…scared away. They get scared for so many reasons. Maybe because they see in you what they could be.

But then, there is the reasoning that they shouldn’t put up with that crap. With their own crap. That they should just take it.

Just take it. Yah, that would be cool.

Let’s dispel all the mistakes we’ve made into a boiling pot of anger. Let’s just it simper for a bit…let it cool.

After all this cooling, there will always be a growing uncomfortably. We will never survive this. We will always be the underclass.

Seeing my old friend taught me something. It taught me that HE will never want to be associated with US. Because, he’s scared…I think.

Is this fear more important that real friendship? Can we break the beerier of sober life?


--
Without Wax

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Burning Bridges


OLD BEER
Originally uploaded by defekto
You’ll never really know the bridges you’ve burnt until you look back; retrospect, they call it. We have a limited time on this fragile Earth. Friends are important, very important. You are not a genius. You won’t ever be able to discover who will be you’re most trusted friends. But, old friends, they have value.

Larry C., a software engineer (just like me)…has endeared me with the most entertaining drunk stories that, I’ve labeled them: the Larry Stories.

I’ve just found out that Larry has moved to the Twin Cities. We had a little pub crawl. And all was forgiven…or so I thought.

What he did one night caused us to not trust him ever again. We came to visit in Reno, NV. We stayed at his place. Then he disappeared. What had happened was that he fell {drunk} in love with a beautiful lady and totally had forgotten that he was hosting us at his place. All our trip property was in his apartment. We had to leave the next day. I could deal with it, but my girlfriend couldn’t.

I could deal with it because I know the nature of Larry. But, he just left us. No keys, no plan, and more importantly, no luggage. He knew we had to leave, yet he left us.

I tracked him down. I knew, from the local taverns that he visited, where he might be. Jacqueline was worried. I found him. I had expressed to him how upset she was to him. He was a man I had put our trust in…and then she got scared…because his dick got hard.

I had set myself to not trust him again…then he called. I was still pissed about the fact that he really didn’t understand how scared Jacky was. I felt, when he called, that maybe…just maybe he might have known how scared Jacky was, but I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. I’d told him, “no”.

Time passed, and I’d never heard from him again. Then, we found each other on Facebook. He’d remembered the damage he’d done to our relationship. We met over beer and had forgiven and put away the mistakes of the past.

We talked and drank and looked at beautiful young ladies at bars, just like old times; but it really wasn’t. I’m divorced; he’s got a daughter, a house, more than I can have. It was unbalanced.

His ex-wife said he shouldn’t see me again.

He gave me an e-mail saying that we can’t see each other again.

I’m like: Wow: what the fuck?

He called me and said that she apologized: that she should have never forced that decision upon him. Then he called back and said he felt like a jerk.

Frankly, he was, but I cannot help but think that he was a pussy jerk. Come on! His ex-wife has now decisions about friends he’s known 20 years ago?

So, now he hasn’t changed. He can easily burn bridges has fast as I could. But, I no longer find value in burning bridges. I should teach him not to. And take respect that he hasn’t, over 20 years, learned that lesson.

I must teach Larry how not to burn bridges. That’s a job; that’s a big job. Okay, I’ll do it.

Next step.


-- Without Wax

Friday, June 04, 2010

May 27 2007 Strawberry Rhubard Stuffed French Toast @ The Coffee Pot in Kenosha, Wisconsin

Perfect.


There are times when I feel so close to June. She knows how to cook, and she knows how to reach any man through his stomach. I love her; I really do.


-- Without Wax