So now that I have the chance to sit in the quiet and calm of my living room, I will tell you more about yesterday. True, Mark and zostrianos were there to pick up the phone when I called sobbing and hysterical, but others were not so lucky. A household of friendly acquaintances of mine got a pathetic-sounding whimpering and gulpy message from me, which did not include my return phone number (and I think the only resident of the house who may have my number -- or at least know where to get it -- is out of town). Then there's H.W.S.R.N., who got a message on his parents' answering machine where I mostly screamed obscenities and cried noisily.
When I crash and burn, I like to do it with panache.
Yesterday, after all of the phone calls (not to mention the ill-advised emails) I went to beehivebuzz for coffee. Walking down E. Carson Street, I saw someone standing on a ladder painting a sign and I neither thought twice nor hesitated: I walked straight under that ladder and dared fate to come fuck with me some more. "Is that all you got? Puhleeze!"