A schediastic hootenanny

Boy, have I been down the last week. I can't get over missing her, missing her kid, missing home. I know it's not anything you ever get over, but I wish it would return to a tolerable level of ache, because I got shit to do.

Until I'm able to get into a real therapy regime, I've been having to settle for whatever coping mechanisms are available. Forgiving myself isn't really an option, and just ignoring it and hoping I feel better only works when it works. So I've stuck with what I know, which is huge black swaths of self-hatred, and if you're reading this (and if you are, for God's sake, why?), you can see how well that's working out. I think what kills me the most is not knowing how they're doing. I want her to be okay, to be happy even, on her own or with someone who can be good to her and not a total screwoff like I was, and I want the move to have been a good thing for her. Part of this is my ego, of course -- it's me overexaggerating how important I was to her, wanting to be absolved of the guilt of doing what I did by knowing that they aren't completely screwed. But a lot of it is just what I always wanted for her but couldn't give her, the possibility of being happy.

I've been pretty resolutely avoiding any contact with her. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear from me, and if she did, she knows where I am and how to reach me. I gave up the right, if I ever had it, to have a stake in how she or Annie are doing with my betrayal. Anyway, it would probably be more harmful than healing for me to write her; I don't know. I just hope she's doing all right, or at least better than I am. She sure as hell deserves it.

Sorry you had to look at this. Onward, onward...

Jesus, I need a drink. Or nine.

Anyway, while we're waiting for me to get my shit together, how about a quick game of "What the Fuck is James Lileks Talking About?"

From today's Bleat:

Luck is like Communism – believe in it if you like, just don’t base your actions on it.

O...kay. But surely you can top that for impenetrability, Jimbo! You're a professional writer!

Sorry, Charlie: comics are to musicians as tailors are to tapestry weavers.

He closes out by mentioning that he finally got around to listening to Mort Sahl, and he thinks Mort compares unfavorably to Minneapolis right-wing talk show nobody Bob Davis. Sure, Mort Sahl has been called the most influential comedian of the postwar era; shure, he singlehandedly revolutionized stand-up comedy to make it something more than a gag delivery vector; sure, he paved the way for Lenny Bruce and George Carlin. But James knows! James says:

Bob is smarter, quicker, cleverer, more adept at whittling the argument down to the nub, funnier, and he does it three hours a day.

You can visit Bob's website to learn more about the man who's funnier, smarter and quicker than Mort Sahl. While you're there, you can vote in his poll (who's a more seminal band, Motley Crue or Aerosmith?), and learn that "North Korea sucks", "Alec Baldwin is an ass", you can "anger your liberal friends, get Ann Coulters new book", Al Gore is an alarmist, Ted Turner "demonstrates what is wrong with America Today", the French are lame, 9/11 conspiracy theorists are crazy but Jimmy Hoffa conspiracy theorists are cool, and other things for which "READER DISCRETION STRONGLY ADVISEDS". Enjoy!

Over the years, due to my lack of focus and my inability to do anything meaningful with my life, I have posted a lot of polls on this journal. A lot. Like, 121 and counting. And I have, in so doing, learned a lot of interesting things about my readership, whoever you are. Things like this.

1. I have the amazing ability to compel you to urinate.
2. Three people other than me have a magic suitcase named Edmund.
3. Seven of you find your jobs fulfilling and delightful and I hate you.
4. Half as many of you think using pink as the breast cancer awareness color is racist as enjoy being reminded of tits.
5. The majority of you like me because of my deft combination of arrogant self-satisfaction and debased self-loathing.
6. Nearly four times as many of you are not watching The Wire than are watching it, and that's just crazy.
7. A disturbingly high number of you would like to see a TV show about reanimated corpses who have sex with each other.
8. Six of you -- SIX! -- like mystery novels with crime-solving cats.
9. Seven of you -- SEVEN! -- think Natural Born Killers was a good movie.
10. A large majority of you, nearly a quorum, would like the ability to manipulate pornography with your minds.
11. Not enough of you are listening to the Rakes.
12. When I ask you to give me recipes for blender drinks, a depressing number of you don't seem to understand that I'm talking about ones with liquor in them.
13. Tons of you like In 'n' Out Burger even though they put Bible verses on their fries.
14. Judas and Doubting Thomas are your favorite apostles, and you're all going to hell.
15. One out of every two of you likes Stravinsky.
16. Only one person was brave enough to say that DC's Infinite Crisis was worse than the Holocaust, WWI and the Atlantic slave trade.
17. Those of you who think people are merely stupid outnumber those of you who think people are evil by a surprising 5:1.
18. One of you likes to fox trot. I ain't sayin' who.
19. Pestilence is your favorite horseman of the Apocalypse. I ain't even tryin' to figure out why that is.
20. You are all very sexy.

And that's just from the last 20 polls! You people are a book I never get tired of reading, I tell ya.