I’m doing the unusual thing and starting this at almost 1am instead of pretending I wrote it the previous day at 23:59 because I’m not blogging any particular day. I might write about stuff that happened from different days. I haven’t decided yet.
Okay. First up. WHO THE FUCK’S COMING HERE FROM DENVER, COLORADO. MATT, IS THAT YOU.
I wouldn’t expect it to be Thea. I don’t think she ever knew about this place and anyway, last I heard she is in Ireland.
The visitor hits in question always say “Sweden, Denver, Colorado,” which is weird, and I suppose it could actually be Sweden, but I think something just parsed an IP not quite right instead (the counter does that with me; it keeps placing me in Canada) or else someone thought they were using a clever IP masker of some sort but it glitched. I know TWO PEOPLE in Colorado (Crys doesn’t count… by her own choice). My site here is nothing anyone would ever search for. So it’s fuckin’ one’a yas.
Oh well. Insert ranty cussy insulting thing here, yawn, I’m done. The trash took itself out. Stay out. We both know you will never tell me if something happens to my daughter. You can’t even tell me about the good stuff. You made your choice, now live with it. The end.
—
I wish people cared half as much when I write about good stuff or important stuff as they seem to care when they want to dig up shit.
I’ve had — count ’em — all of two people, who I am in regular contact with, treat me like a human being about my writing. My brother looks to my writing first when he wants to know what’s going on with me instead of making me repeat myself, and Out-Of-Town Guy shared one of my Substack posts and praised it. I don’t want people praising my stuff if it is crap, but there is no way I can properly convey to him what that did for me. And I’ve never even met the guy, though I will next month. No one else I know does that for me — a few other people I talk to on Facebook are paying for subscriptions to my Substack, though I suspect that’s mostly about the trans stuff. Anyone else? Total strangers might read me; people I know, not so much unless they want to dig up dirt. I’ve never understood why, and the few times I’ve heard excuses, they fell far short on accuracy. I get the distinct impression most of them would rather see me miserable than happy. I’ve never understood that either.
I sometimes hear the argument that when people act like this towards you, it’s because they feel threatened by whatever talent they think you have. I don’t know why that would apply in my case. I’ve always thought of myself as a Rising Tides Float All Boats kinda gal in that, if my tide were to rise, for sure I would want to lift other people’s boats. If I’ve seemed penurious over the course of my adult life, it’s been because I was fucking broke. I still found ways to boost other people when I thought I could do it. Stands to reason that if the people calling themselves my “friends” had gotten their own egos out of the way, they’d have benefited too. It really is cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face.
And if I’m not all that talented at whatever, then there’s no harm in just leaving me to it without mucking it up with dramatic bullshit. Christ knows I’ve seen any number of people engaged in creative work be fawned over by their friends when, if you looked at what they were producing, it wasn’t all that good. I feel like the world’s biggest snot saying that. And, it’s unfair because at least they bother producing. Me? I keep choking on my own self-doubt. I’m lame.
But still. When I do produce it, whether you like it or not? If you know me, stop fucking weaponizing it against me. Especially if we’re not even living in the same state anymore, like… how does that even make sense? Grow up.
—
Apparently, I have a lot to live up to. Or actually not.
Not the previous housemate but I think the one before that, or maybe a little farther back, L had one who turned out to be a raving psycho. Like actual psycho. Like either went off her meds or they stopped working and it got to the point of rape threats against both L and Neighbor and just nasty stuff in general. Yes this was a woman. No I don’t get it either. Neighbor told me about it this most recent Saturday (so, the 13th). Prefaced it with “L told you about this already, right?” Well… maybe? I got a lot of info in the beginning but I always have Stoopid Brain with new information and I need it repeated a few times. She might have touched on it. I’m not sure. And so, he told me.
The thing is I could question this and be like “why are you telling me this, is there a reason? Should I hotly deny that I would ever do a thing like that?” But, and maybe it’s a writer thing, he already sort of overshares and that’s probably all it was. I almost did say something like that, and then I thought it might be protesting too much and that I might be better off making sympathetic noises (not fake; I really did sympathize) but not saying anything specific. Because, what do you say.
What amazes me is that L tried again at all after that, which I know she’s done at least twice more, because I had a predecessor who wasn’t the raving rapey loony. But I will tell you what: the tale had a possibly unintended effect, because prior to hearing it I’d been getting paranoid that I might be annoying or something but after hearing that story, I know I’m actually a lot more on the right track than I had previously thought.
Whew.
—
I will not say everything is bucolic because, well, it’s me.
I feel like I am invading a special little world that will never belong to me. And I want my own little world like that and I can’t have it. Much less anyone to share it with.
It would help if I knew just a little more about the situation. It would make things easier. No one explains it. I don’t want to ask because that’s nosy.
(He doesn’t overshare THAT much.)
Sigh.
—
I have a sort of a job. Kind of. Will not give specifics, will say it’s not weed or anything illegal (weed is legal in California, I’m just saying). Also am not getting paid much but the important thing is I’m getting paid enough right now. Or will be, next time it’s payday. I’m guessing that might be Wednesday since the relevant work has been delayed two days. (The cycle normally begins on Monday evenings.)
It’s nothing glamorous, and would probably horrify my daughter, and it’s definitely physical. And I’m glad to do it for my own selfish reasons, and not just the money either.
No one ever said I was fucking noble.
—
I have bad news for the dudes of Dudedom: We’ve never dated and Neighbor is already raising the bar for what I expect from other men from here on out.
He has an online reputation for being prickly. He still can be in person, but mostly what comes across is simple kindness.
Not the desperate “let me buy you things to make you like me” shit Matt used to pull. Kindness. Like, basically the polar opposite of my dad, kindness. (I think Dad was motivated similarly to Matt in his “generosity,” if you want to know the truth.) Not a sucker, not a wimp, just… treats people like human beings. That’s so rare anymore. I have to sort of just stop and bask in it.
Aaand then he turns right back to L and they’re back in their own little world that I am outside of.
Man, they are totally fucking. I’m TELLING you. If I wind up in the hospital with a fucking stroke it’ll probably be because both of them told me they’re just platonic friends. But I could almost bet money. Almost. I just about would.
Maybe after this Wednesday. 🤡🤡🤡
—
(I’m not betting any fucking money on Neighbor. If I bet anything it’ll be three dollars on a Powerball ticket.)
—
I am so stuck and so frustrated on everything, generally. Up til recently I was stuck on art but not stuck on writing. Now I’m stuck on writing. I hate this so much. I want to DO something, and it’s like I’m not even all here. Oh God, something knock me loose. I don’t mean literally, I don’t want to get hit by a car or something (I walk everywhere, after all), but GOD.
—
Ugh. I’ve run dry now. Well, I’ll probably natter in here again soon. About what, I have no idea.
I wish someone would just talk with me. Like, regularly. Like, not Facebook or trans bullshit. Maybe? Hopefully? At some point?
Meh.