jesus, in my morning dream, wore blue dickies and knee high yellow rubber boots. he gripped my head in two grease covered hands and kissed my forehead. "you're dead to me, stan. you're dead to me now." he said. all i could do was nod slowly between his palms, his hands nodding with me. for the rest of the day people remarked on the stars in my cheeks. that evening, sitting in a dirt floored vietnamese dive called "pho doobiest", did i realize why. in the fat shimmering on the surface of my pho i could see a red star on either cheek. quarter sized, irregular stars. "from the stigmata," mother theresa said, cuddling me tighter, "it's from His stigmata, when he held your face in his hands." "he gripped my face, mother t. it hurt. and the stigmata was supposed to be in his forearms. nails through palms would rip right out." "fuck no, stan. not out of the son of god." mother theresa ran her fingers through my chest hair. "now your marked, man. now you're marked like hesse says cain was marked. except different." "what a load of crap." i rolled over in bed and pulled the covers up around my mouth. the sheet smelled like lilacs, but the blanket reeked like sex. several years ago i drove around mexico with this butterfly guy. some monarch afficinado. we drove through the desert with a beat up van full of butterfly guy equipment. and several hundred mescaline tablets hidden in a piece of pipe fixed behind the rust pocked bumper. he was on some trip about the soul of an aztech priest being trapped in a rock on a particular mountain. every year the monarchs would return to this mountain, cover it with their bodies. a giant shimmering blanket of orange and black. and the sound. the sound of them all taking flight was like the rumble of hogs. under it all, at the top of the mountain, the tip of a rock protruded like an iceberg from the sea. butterfly guy said the rock held the soul of the priest prisoner, but it couldn't hold the priest's power. he said the mountain was nothing more than dirt stuck to the rock as if magnetized by the raw hum of the captive soul. and the monarchs, the souls of his followers. one night towards morning i followed him up the side of the mountain, crushing monarchs with each step as they futilely tried to fly on cold wings. we reached the top and he stood on the rock, arms stretched across the stars. his limbs lept with purple fire. it coursed across his body in firey ropes, shimmering green-purple oil on water. i was thrown off the mountain when the rock first cracked. as i flew off into space i watched the mountain split. jets of smoke. purple fire. butterfly guy obscured. when i woke, i was warm. the clock showed several minutes until the alarm would go off. it would be one of those days, where everything fits like gears in a watch.

Whoa.... And all of a sudden, I feel way less significant.

basically i've done very little except cry for the past couple days. i am officially depressed, and i can't seem to pull myself out of it. i'm anesthesizing myself with valium, food, and blockbuster movies. i have no energy to go to the gym and i've been forcing myself to go to yoga, but mostly because my ass hurts literally from sitting too much. i'm depressed because i have nothing to be happy about right now. not one thing, except new orleans, and that seems too far away right now. my relationship is a total bummer. kevin's unemployed and depressed and not being a very good boyfriend... not even being a very good friend. i have no job, i'm getting rejected for every dumbass job i apply for, and i'm now nearly $3,000 in debt just trying to pay rent and buy groceries. i don't feel at home in my apartment, i can't afford to ship my cats here even though the weather is finally cool enough to do so, and i miss them. there's no ocean. there's not a lot of fun to be had because i have no money to do anything fun. i have no friends here. there's no good hiking trails. i can't afford to join a rowing team. i don't even have a garden. i can't think of one single solitary thing to be happy about. nothing. so i'm sad and kevin called to invite me over to do help him with his roommates website (ooooooh, thrilling fun) and i told him i was going to go to yoga and come home and go to bed. he pulled some passive-agressive crap with me and said, well, i'm going to finish this movie then without you. fine, i said. i could give a flying fuck about the movie, is what i thought. but nice try. and then i started crying for the millionth time in two days. i told him about my mom calling and yelling at me when i told her i wasn't happy and i wanted to go home. she told me not to talk to her again until i could pull myself together and act happy, because she doesn't deserve to have to hear about how i really feel. i told him i can't stand being in this relationship any more because he's so glum all the time and there's no fun and no romance and nothing to do or say and i can't be there for him anymore, i can't help pull him out of his slump, because i can't pull myself out. and what a horrible way this is to start a relationship. awful. the worst. i don't deserve this. i deserve to have a boyfriend who, if he doesn't have a job, which he should, then can at least be a source of light and fun and happiness and not constantly needing me to be the shoulder to cry on. then i hung up the phone and went to yoga. when i came home there was a big box sitting at my doorstep. i flung it inside. i don't want gifts. i want to feel better. i ignored the box for as long as i could and then i opened it up. it wasn't wrapped. it is what looks to be a fairly expensive tea kettle. it's beautiful. stainless steel with a spinning whistle. i'm sure it was supposed to be my birthday present, because my birthday is coming up in a few days. i'm sure he didn't run out and get it for me tonight. the card was like the kind of card that comes w/ a boquet of flowers. it reads: "S - there are times during which i am reminded of the healing power of simple pleasures. it is during those times i must choose to slow down and remember the beauty that surrounds me each day. this is for all the beauty in you. - Love, Kev." it's sweet, it really is. but the thing is that i don't feel any better. but now i feel obligated to feel better. and i don't. it's true i love tea and that i'm a total tea addict, but i don't give a fuck about this tea kettle or about the beauty that surrounds me every day. i'm aware of the beauty that surrounds me every day and i have been for a long time, here and in hawaii, and i still feel like shit. i still want to go home. i was doing just fine before all this. i had a job that paid me well even though i didn't like it that much, and i had friends, and my trainer, and a routine, and my house and my view of diamond head and boogie boarding on the beach on sundays and my dad and my cats, and before march i had forgotten there was a time i ever wished i was in love. i had gotten myself to a place where i knew and believed and felt from the bottom of my heart that it didn't matter. and now i'm here and nothing is good any more. and now i have to call kevin and say thank you. and all i really want to do is take more valium and sleep the rest of the week away.

i don't know what to say except i wish i could smile at you right now and have you not look away. and then go for a walk. hang in there, sarah--you'll make it better eventually.

kevin needs an ass kicking. what a schlep. move back to hawaii. that'll learn ya to leave paradise. dude needs to feel the serious fingers of mortality around his pseudo-sensitive throat. what a fucking playa. kick his ass and leave him with the tab. i'm pissed.

Love sucks. Paradise,thats the answer. For all of us.

how could anyone date you, sarah, and be at all glum? What's up with that? If I take away anything from my long, long period of celibacy and monkosity, it's that you have to value a relationship with someone special above mundane things such as employment and such. It's fine and dandy to be down when you are on your own or alone, but the time when you're with that special person, all other concerns should seem light in comparison. Guess I still have some work to do at becoming a bitter, crass, cynical old man yet. Hang in there Sarah.

Anyone that is as pretty as you are and can cook like you do,does not deserve a morose turd like Kevin.

you're one to talk dave. you're a bitch on simple days like valentine's. im probably going to get it for saying this, but Im failing to see exactly what k has done wrong here, other than be a mope, which sarah admits to being herself..... you're both mopes. why does one deserve to be blamed for it anymore than the other? why is up to HIM to be happy and go-lucky, despite being unemployed? Its drilled into men's heads to be providers, we feel like failures when we can't look after ourselves and the women we love and take in. When I was unenmployed I was terribly depressed. Maybe take a step back, a sigh, and a few days off the valium gain some persepctive. Valium can encourage depression. Its easy to get swept up in the loop when you're going to bed numb and waking up hazy. But im a dick with nothing worthwhile to add....

Sarah: "i told him about my mom calling and yelling at me when i told her i wasn't happy and i wanted to go home. she told me not to talk to her again until i could pull myself together and act happy, because she doesn't deserve to have to hear about how i really feel." ...then, in the same breath... "i told him i can't stand being in this relationship any more because he's so glum all the time and there's no fun and no romance and nothing to do or say and i can't be there for him anymore" So, your mom does it to you, then you do it to your boyfriend? I'm not trying to be critical, just pointing out something you might not see because you're in the middle of it.

Sarah, you deserve better then this Kevin Person. He doesn't deserve you thats for sure, I never deserved Marcy, I know that but at least I went out of my way to make myself even close to worth of deserving someone as special as her. This Kevin person, from what you've told us so far isn't that kind of person. he takes you for granted, and then when he things something's wrong, he'll try and suppliment it with something material. Fucking Cock monster. I hate guys like that. He should just want to chill back with some popcorn and watch those blockbuster movies with you, just hang around and thats all. But no, he's going to write his friends website and wants you to help. Friggin ass. I know this isn't much comfort, but I should be online most of the night later, email me. I have a few things I think you would enjoy reading.

I'll kick back a whiskey with you in NOLA Sarah. 17 days from now.

what you don't understand is that this entire time i've been entirely optimistic and fun and silly and my usual the devil may care self. i wear my dumb cowboy hat and listen to bad country music and pick him up at his house to do whatever. and no matter what i've done or said, no matter how optimistic i am and care-free, it doesn't make any bit of difference. i've done everything i can to help make things seem brighter even when they're not. he's been glum and passive agressive and all that stuff, but i have not in any way been codependent. his emotions are his and not mine. but there's nothing i can do at this point. he is not helping himself. and now i feel like i can't help myself, so certainly i cannot help him. i am sad because the very reason i moved down here is not working out. it's not that i don't love him or think he's a great guy most of the time, but he is not getting a grip. what i am learning about him that i couldn't have known before is that he is afraid. afraid of everything. he's afraid of barking dogs and crossing the street. you should have seen the way he acted when he visited me in hawaii. he totally flipped out being outside all the time. he would have to go and buy a newspaper every day and bury himself in it so as not to be aware of his surroundings. he likes to be inside and watch tv and play on the internet where it's safe. when we sit outside on his back porch, he swats at imaginary mosquitos and says he's getting bitten and goes back inside. he worries about everything. he does not take care of simple responsibilities like doing his own dishes and laundry and such. he is in many ways a non functioning adult. and all of this is okay. i didn't know this about him before i moved here and i love him exactly for who he is, fears and all. but that doesn't mean that he's the type of person i want to share my life with. all that fear is oppressive to me. i want to travel; he can't be out of his safety zone without flipping out. i want to hike and run and play; he's afraid of getting hurt and having to go to the doctor. i'm a participator, he's an observer and an artist. and i think i could overlook all of that. i think we could be in a happy, functional relationship in spite of all of that because i'm an independent person and i can do what i want and he can do what he wants and we can still love each other. so he can't find a job. well, i can't find a job either. it doesn't mean that he has to be a freak day in and day out over it. but apparently, like me, he can't find anything to be happy about. even when major things in my life sucked when i lived in hawaii, i had plenty of things to be happy about. i didn't sweat the small stuff, and tried to fix the stuff that bothered me. but now i can't find anything to take pleasure in. and believe me, i've really tried. i don't think this place is for me. everyone here spends a lot of time in bars and seeing music, which for me is fun once in a while. but that's not my thing. i like to run and jump and play. hike and swim and paddle canoes. antigone, i don't mind being there for him. i treat him with nothing but total love and tenderness and patience and respect. but now i am unhappy and cannot be the shoulder any more. i don't have it in me any more. my entire life has radically changed. if anything, you'd think i'd be the one who would need shoulders to cry on and tenderness and patience and a sense of safety and love. but i've been plugging along this whole time, doing the best i can every day, working my ass off to get things done and be a supporting partner. and all i have to show for it is a glum boyfriend who can't get it together. not for him, not for the sake of the relationship. my mother, for the record, is clinically psychotic. she lives in a fantasy world where everything has to be peachy keen, like in American Beauty. and if there are signs of anything awry, they get ignored, denied, and swept under the rug. it's not as if i was being mean or crabby with her. i was just telling her that i am not happy and am seriously thinking of going home because it's not working out. i told myself i'd give it a year. that seemed like a fair amount of time. now i can't even imagine making it to december.

i'll take that whiskey for sure, sem. thanks! :) and Hal, i'll email you. thanks. thanks to those of you who are so nice to me.

i think you're full of shit and jumping to conclusions hal. settle down and stop being so hard on someone you know little about. he appeared to correct a shortcoming with a token gift on his part....and is subsequently being shat on by a bunch of schmucks online who dont even know the guy.

damn that was a few minutes too late.

He's probably a great guy... I'm sure... But not for Sarah as far as I can tell. Patrick I have to little sisters, I grew up protecting them, from boys, from themselves, its a joy in my life. Occasionally I see the same things happing to people I know that happened to one of my sisters. This just happens to be the case. Granted the circumstances are different, and I'm more then positive that Sarah can take care of herself better then my sisters. But from my stand point I will judge this guy all I damn well please, give my opinion's about him based on what I know. He obviously has issues that he needs to work out before being able to give his all for a relationship. For the longest time in my life, I've felt that we men are scum. Some more then others, actually the majority of men are scum. And alot of those guys who fall just outside the scum catagory don't know a good thing when it bites them in the ass. Sarah is a good thing for this guy, but he doesn't know it and probably won't till the good thing isn't there. And that bothers me.

well i wrote what i wrote before she detailed his neurosis. Up until that point, we didnt have that information.

despite her contempt for me, she's a strong woman and will do the right thing. im sure of that.

Why would she have contempt for you? I've been here almost 2 years, and this is the first I'm hearing of it.

forget it

Just for your notes: I can pretty much hook anyone up with a room in a sweet boarding house with rockin' folks and a sauna if you want to live in the UP for a while. Great place to recharge. Opportunities for water skiing, snow skiing, running around in the woods, seeing fairly big cultural events like Branford Marsalis.

"I have to little sisters, I grew up protecting them, from boys, from themselves, its a joy in my life." Really? "For the longest time in my life, I've felt that we men are scum. Some more then others, actually the majority of men are scum." Really?? My mind is reeling.

you know, i actually skipped over that last phrase. christ hal that attitude is part of the problem. shape up man. self deprecating your gender is no good. its a virus.

Yes Really... AND NO.... Not all of us are scum. As I will point out there are a good amount of us that are decent guys, who aren't given a chance because the misgivings of some asshole who didn't treat a lady right. I also will point out that not all females are flawless, there are some pretty shallow, bitchy, women who don't deserve a boot to the head because it would be to nice... We are all human, but the fact remains there are some really bad seeds around. And yes spider, I took joy in being my sisters protector.

i'm a bad seed. this is a side note, but i'm getting pissed off at people who are pissed off at being unemployed. goddamnit. i've been dreaming about getting laid off. what a great thing that would be. drop all these responsibilities, sell the house, bail on life. kung fucking fu, and here you guys have all the time in the world do accomplish whatever you want to, and you waste it worrying about being unemployed. write a fucking book sarah and start that career up. you know damn well you are capable.

i'm the bad seed. this is a side note, but i'm getting pissed off at people who are pissed off at not being unemployed. goddamnit. i've been dreaming about getting a job that pays well and i don't get fired when i 'work at home'. what a great thing that would be. drop all these anxieties, get a house, get a life. kung fucking fu. write a fucking book sarah and start that career up. you know damn well you are capable. but also maybe work somewhere because in the mean time you should eat.

what should i write a book about?

All of us giving you shitty advice.

There you go now thats an idea....

patrick, i never wooed her with all kinds of super-romantic correspondence and then, once i got her to give up everything to be with me, changed into the schmuck i am now. i was a schmuck from day 1. no surprises. if nothing else, i'm consistent.

ok then. i'll give you that. i appreciate your ability to admit that.

k came over tonight by my reqest. i broke up with him. it wasn't very dramatic. we agreed we love each other, but we agreed that two miserable people can't be in a relationship together. i told him i am angry and resentful that i am so miserable and can't seem to find my way out. he was sad and talked someting about not being a good boyfriend to me and a lot of talk about his oppressive fears and anxieties. i got back my kitchen stools, my artwork, my easle, some clothes, and my crock pot. i told him my original plan when i left hawaii was to give this thing a year, but now i'll probably leave by christmas, unless something miraculous happens between now and then. i graciously extended an offer for him to come with me. he says he would come, but i doubt it. he's too scared to do much anything that might possibly make him uncomfortable. i might go back to hawaii. if i go alone, i'll go to kauai or maybe the big island. or maybe to boise, idaho. or guatemala. if he comes, it'll probably have to be somewhere relatively safe and well thought out. but i'm not waiting a year and that does not make me a quitter. it means i seek out things that make me happy and i don't waste time on endeavors that prove not to bring me happiness. why no more sunday cooking potroast and watching football. this sunday i'm baking a pie and going on a hike with the local chapter of the Sierra club. tomorrow morning i'm getting up early to try a new step aerobics class. tomoorrow night i'm going over to sara's house to watch West Wing and eat brownies and drink beer. and some time this week i'm going to take myself to a kinda semi swanky hair salon and get some sort of outrageously fun do and maybe some color too. i cannot allow myself to be depressed. it's just no fucking fun. and you know what else? my thighs and ass are fat fat fat and i don't give a fuck. size 8 will do just fine. bring on the peanut butter and pineapple cake with rum frosting and ice cream. i ain't scared. i found some austin hiking resouces on the internet. i hope there are lesbian groups. i feel so much better already.

sarah, you are so strong. i just hope this is really what you want, and you aren't acting hastily because you are feeling low. it just seems like it's been a lot of work for you to move all that way, only to find that it's not what you are looking for. i'm sure that you are able to make your own decisions, though. good luck, girl. you will prevail.

thanks agatha. i feel bettre. also, the ambien is helping. and i definitely am going to start writing a book. i just need a topic. anyone have good suggestions? silly but perhaps feasible suggestions?

Write about yourself Sarah,your slant on life,I look forward to your posts,they always grab my attention.

pursue the lesbian thing. lesbians are hot!

Not all of them. Don't listen to everything Howard Stern says. Anyway, way to go, Sarah, I'll buy you a double now.

I think you made the right choice. He sounds like a "bump-on-a-log". You're too vibrant,to be stuck with someone,who sits around swatting invisible mosquitos.[if I were you,I would have had to swat him with the fly swatter,just to see if he could react to anything] Sometimes,opposites do attract.But there really does need to be some compatability of activities. Sorry it didn't work out for you.But its better to find out now,and move on.Lifes short. [although,I suppose,one could theoretically lenghten it,by staying indoors,and sheltering oneself from any *dangerous* activities] Or,one could go out and LIVE life to its fullest! :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

There's no such thing as coincidence? Fate? Are you in Austin for a reason? Perhaps your book fodder is right there? Do you really believe you were brought to Austin only to turn and leave? Maybe....but Id want to be sure first. um, working for a gay/lesbian publisher...I can tell you lesbian novels, erotic or otherwise suck, for the most part. A novel, with lesbian content maybe, but a classified "lesbian novel" is like shooting yourself in the foot. But, should you feel like cranking a lesbian sex book, let me know, maybe I can hook you up.

Move up here to Montana... Great hiking, rafting, canoing, kyaking, mt climbing, folfing... AND hey we've got the lesbians too, hell I know a few of them I'll introduce you. This is good Sarah, I don't know about everyone else here, but I'm proud of ya'.

I think you should move to Christchurch. Beach 15 minutes one way, skifield 1hr the other. Plenty of gyms, walking clubs, and you'd get a job easy. Has anyone read the e book, about a week in the life of an ad agency trying to win the coca-cola account. And its all just emails. Funny.

i wonder what would happen if i went back to one week of eating how i use to eat. smoothies for breakfast. a package of thick saltines for a snack. kung pao chicken with rice or a big chicken or roast beef sandwhich on rye w/ mustard and a coke for lunch. one of the those sweet coffee slurpee slushies from 7-11 for a snack. meat or pork and cooked vegetables and rolls, or pasta with meat sauce, or some gross casserole for supper. what if i ate my own sweet baked goods every morning for breakfast. oh i know i know. i would very quickly feel like shit. i'd have headaches and no energy. but the cravings would be gone! rats! why can't i have both! starting tonight i'm going to write 50,000 words by the end of november loosely on the subject of losing and gaining weight, fat and thin, health and disease, sexuality and society and self image. on being human and living in our bodies. about the overfed malnourished. this will not be a diet How To book. it will not be a book about eating disorders. it will not be a self help book, unless by accident. at the end there will be a book about the sacred journey of discovering your true body, releasing it from the entrapment of years of brainwashing. and millions of women and maybe four or five men will read it, and some of them will get it, most of them will hate it, and the rest of them will fear it. it is strange to talk to kevin and not have him say "i love you" anymore. it's the first sign i recognize indicating the new reality. the new, sad reality. i've live in montana for a year. missoula. love it there, loved flathead lake, the national park up top, driving west through windy roads into norther idaho to hot springs, friendly drooling dogs runnin amok on Jacob's island. downhome bluegrass festivals in the bitterroot valley. often i dream of going back. i think the statute of limitations is up on the 2 warrants out for my arrest in wyoming, so i might swing by there as well. maybe end up at matt's place in boise. maybe at nate's place. i dream of landing back at the yoga retreat center on the big island. that's my final destination, no matter how long it takes me to get back there. it depends. i'm going to finish up these two half-decent freelance jobs i've secured redesigning and architecting two soft-core porn websites, which might take me about six weeks from now. and if i have no job and no other reason to hang around after that, then i'm packing up my bags and leaving las vegas. here's the thing. i was happy in hawaii, but maybe after so many years i needed some sort of adventure. ultimately it might now work out for me here and i'm okay with that. perhaps i needed to learn some lessons. i think i already know what some of them are, and i'm sure more remain to be discovered. but one thing's for certain. i am not leaving this place without a badass pair of cowboy boots.

You rock.

Sign me up for a first edition.

Sarah, we'd love to have you here in Missoula. And seeing as you know what its like, all the better.

a couple nights ago I got my hair cut from a friend of a friend who had recently moved from portland to austin to seattle (and will soon move back to portland). she said austin is OK, but it's still texas. you don't need to stay in texas, sarah. we had the conversation that goes "you needed to move. you had been in portland too long. now, after living in texas for a while, you can better appreciate your real home." yeah, fuck that year crap. you've done it. you've changed your life. now you're free to go home. it's the opposite of shameful -- I think it's sort of triumphant to be able to realize that shit is shit and you're better off going where you're happy. it's not like misery makes you a better person or anything.

and spending your life with a scared person would obviously be a mistake. if you get up and go, you're more likely to find someone else who likes to get up and go. I'm spouting nonsense now. sorry. but guatemala is beautiful. go have a look.

Tanker meets bottom of ravine. It's not Guatemala or even the mirrored sunset glow of the Fire Pond, but the woods are pretty this time of year, and the third floor is empty. I'm never home, and there's a big kitchen. I never did paint the door red, you know.

I forgot -- Nate, that was really good. I had the same dream in May 1990.

i wonder who will have it in early 2013.

dunno. the mayans' calendar ends in 2012. good thing i'm not mayan. actually, jesus was just all right with me, but mother t. was schleping blueberry bagels with artificially flavored strawberry cream cheese, or something. ah for a life of service to the poor, with bagels and cream cheese. it is raining and cold here.

sarah, if you ever want to come to portland, i'll be happy to show you around. actually, that goes for anyone. it has been so hot and dry lately. no clouds in the sky for a week or more. i like the sun, but the rain makes me happy. i've only been living here one week, but the change of scene is maddening. going to see shows and eat with friends once, twice a week, chatting with my roomies and watchng sci-fi after getting home from work. talking more openly about my beliefs. before it was solitary days and nights of work. little interactioncontact. i am joining a knitting circle, monday nights at the hollywood bowl (punk night). as for my neighborhood, it's a tad bit rough, but there are two asian groceries, an asian newspaper, the socialist party portland office, a public library and a co-op music store (instruments, not records) all within walking distance. sweet honey on the rocks "ella's favorite" just finished playing on kboo. a cappella gospel style female group. i will either transfer to another store or quit my job very soon. that way i can devote more time to friends and projects.

The doubts resurface. It's nearly 2 a.m. and they are late; they've been delayed. Tonight the doubts have sneaked in through my bedroom window, which is slightly ajar to let the cool autumn air fill up the empty space around my bed. I bet they thought I wouldn't notice their absence or their stealthy return. I took a sleeping pill and still I don't sleep. I took it at 10:30 p.m. and laid in bed to finish the final, short chapters of America The Beautiful. I closed the book for good at 11:30 p.m., feeling slightly groggy. I turned off the light, positioned three of the four pillows just so, and closed my eyes. It didn't take long, maybe five minutes or a few more, to realize that this was not going to be a restful night. Every time I am about to endure a night tortured by insomnia, I know it almost immediately. The alertness isn't so much in my mind as in my body, in my muscles and joints, a cellular unrest. At 11:30 p.m. I considered another dose, but I didn't want to sleep too late or wake up too fuzzy-headed. I went to bed hopeful for an early morning start, a fresh, sharp beginning in the new day. A day I calculated to be industrious and constructive. A nice, long run; a hearty, healthy breakfast, and a full day's work on George's web site. A short trip to the grocery store, a bottle of wine, a salad to bring to a long, late dinner with friends. Actual friends. Maybe even returning home at a respectable hour and starting fresh again the next day. I am no longer feeling so hopeful nor determined to have that perfect day. Not tomorrow, and maybe not ever. Her moans float in on the cool autumn air just after 11:30 p.m. She is loudly, beautifully, uncontrollably, and obviously enjoying her body and her partner's body. Perhaps if she cared, if she worried about embarrassment [obviously not her own, but others'] she might think to seal her own bedroom window shut. But tonight she and I are sharing the cool, night autumn air. She is moaning in a way that demands attention. She is, one must assume, mostly silent during sex, until climax - at which point her moans and gasps and cries escalate very quickly, sharply, and then recede just as fast to silence. Only thirty to sixty silent seconds separate her next wave of moans and yet a third wave. Each consecutive climax remains consistent in duration but is more powerful, explicit, and frenzied than the one before. The third is just a tad harder to identify as pleasure; the sounds are an odd combination of cries, whimpers, and grunts. She sounds as if she is crying, there is some unfathomable grief, perhaps even physical pain or mild discomfort. The entire episode is brief, only long enough to cause some vague sense of alarm, annoyance, indignation, and envy. I manage to fall more than half asleep. While I lay there floating in fractional consciousness, still I am faintly aware of sensations in my own body. I sense my positioning, the temperature, and the feeling of hunger in my belly; I had not wanted to eat a proper dinner. My eyes are closed and I feel heavy like a surrendering sigh. Yes, I am almost there, I'm so close. I hear her moaning again. I roll over and look at the clock. It is 12:35 a.m.; it is almost exactly one hour since her last orgasms. I am amused and unabashedly I listen closely to her pleasure. She is, after all, sharing it with me, and perhaps with others. I wonder who else is listening. I wonder if the time between has been busy or restful for her. I wonder if she is a resident of this apartment complex or someone's guest. There are no sounds from her partner, but he most definitely is there. The sounds she makes again this time are not sounds a woman makes when she is alone with her body. A woman alone with her body is in control. The woman moaning clearly is not in control of anything in this moment. She has no use for control; it's irrelevant. Two waves of orgasm this time, each separated by a short duration of silence, each accompanied by sounds that indicate a bodily pleasure so deep and profound that I can't help but wonder if I am capable of achieving or even understanding that echelon of bliss. She is her body. She is in those moments only< her body. I fall asleep. I realize I finally am sleeping when her moans awaken me a third time. The clock reads 1:20 a.m. Not an entire hour passed since her previous orgasms. It occurs to me that she and her lover are indulging in a what must be a fun and raunchy sex binge. Her moans are equally as intense and formidable as they were during the first two episodes, if not more so. One climax, and then another. No words are spoken or grunted or shouted, only sounds of ecstasy tinged with hints of physical and profoundly emotional anguish. It occurs to me that her lover is working very hard and very lovingly on her behalf. It isn't enough for him to bring her to such extreme heights of pleasure once that night, but rather twice and now again. She is cumming yet a third time in this third round, and I imagine how she must be adored. I formulate her lover's personality - I imagine him to be intensely passionate, wildly indulgent, capable of raw and brutal and honest and fearless sexuality. It is as if only someone who has realized completely his own fulfillment - as a man and a lover and a human - could give so selflessly. To want to work throughout the night simply to push her to her limits. Someone who believes that one, two, and three orgasms are not necessarily enough. Someone who believes it is worth the effort to reach toward the final edges of sexual satiation, passion, and desire. It doesn't matter what he looks like, already he is sexy. It is the power of his will to help her surrender to herself, to care of nothing but pleasure. He must be having a lot of fun. I wonder if she is giving or at some time has given what she now receives. I wonder what a woman does or what she is to deserve and to inspire a whole night of intimate pleasures. I imagine her legs and breasts and ass. She is perfect and beautiful. She is feminine and gentle, but also fickle, untamed, and bold. Perhaps she is with him only tonight. She might slip out of bed before the sun rises and get dressed and steal away into the early morning darkness. Perhaps she will never see him again or maybe she'll be invited back for more. Perhaps she doesn't care either way. Now it is 3:30 a.m. I am completely awake, lucid. I question the foundation of everything I thought I believed in. I want to be rescued from this life. I am at home, wide awake, and I write; I avoid the mirror, the refrigerator. My boyfriend is awake, he is out at a bar seeing a band. Above my head I hear running water. She too is awake. Only she had no intention of going to bed early and getting a good night's rest to ensure a healthy, industrious, and constructive day tomorrow. Tonight she has no use for such practicalities.

Thank god I can not hear my neighbors having sex. I can hear everything else though, so maybe they just don't.

here is the recipe for my new favorite drink. i made it up myself from my liquor cabinet. most liquor i purchase originally is usually for some baked good recipe. anyway, this drink probably already has a name and has been thought up by someone else. but i want to know the name so i can order them when i go out. 1 oz brandy 1 oz spiced rum 1/2 oz creme de cacao splash whole milk (yeah yeah i know) shake vigorously over ice and serve up or on the rocks. i like on the rocks.

Subject: Re: thank you Date: Tue, 9 Oct 2001 17:08:40 -0500 From: denise.***@ni.com Hi Sarah! I really enjoyed meeting you and talking with you about your experience and about National Instruments. We have had a lot of candidates for this position and it was extremely difficult to narrow down the field. However I wanted to let you know that we did select a candidate and have filled the Web Content Coordinator position. I want to let you know that I was really impressed with your background, and if you see any positions opening up in the near future here at NI, please feel free to e-mail me your interest as I could pass your resume on to the hiring manager. Particularly we have a large Web developer group - I am not sure if there are any openings in the future but if so you would be a great candidate. Thanks again for your time. Denise G***f Web Content Manager ni.com

rats.

Damn. Sorry to hear that Sarah. You'll get the next one!

rejection letters suck. especially email ones. that's rotten.

at least that one appeared to be personal. The generic, "we'll keep your resume on file" are the worst.

Yeah no shit.... Filling your resume means the paper shredder gets some good usage. From what I can tell it was a toss up between you and one other person and you loss the toin throw... It sucks, but you know what you do, stick with it Sarah you'll get something.

HOLYFUCKINGSHITIGOTAJOB!

i have interviewed for so many shitty jobs and i just landed what seems like will be the sweetest job i've ever had. i felt like i totally nailed the interview yesterday afternoon. it was in a board room. the interview was with 5 people simultaneously. when it was over i felt good, but i didn't want to talk about it at all w/ kevin because i thought i would jinx it. the woman called me this morning on the phone and said, "how are you this morning?" "fine," i answered. "in fact, i was just sitting at my computer composing an email to you and others to thank you for the interview yesterday." "well, i have a question for you," she said matter of factly. "would you be willing to be the first person in our web development department?" i totally did not see this coming. in fact, i was expecting her to ask a question about one of my qualifications, or ask me to come back for a second interview. so i paused for a moment, unscrambled my brain, and asked, "excuse me. are you offering me the job?" "yes," she said. "oh my god. yes, i'd love to work for you!" and so it went. come in and fill out the paperwork and yadda yadda yadda. so... now i'm the SENIOR FUCKING DEVELOPER for a school district just outside of Austin. it's not a wealthy district, but they are paying me as much as i made at the big bad evil bank! and here's the kicker. are you ready for this? i work a teacher's school year. built in holidays! xmas, thanksgiving, spring break, winter break, and 1/2 summer break (or 4 weeks). i get to be the boss of a brand new department, and i get to hire some staff and set up "internships" for the high school students who are taking or have taken the Web Mastering class. and i get to help develop interface for online curriculum. i get to make pretty web pages and they'll pay for me to take database classes. and i get to do Good Things for Kids. and i can pay my rent. and i can ship my cats here once and for all. or better yet, i have plenty vacation so i can go to hawaii and pick them up. i can go to hawaii all the time. and i can buy everyone a round of drinks or two or four or six in NOLA. OH HAPPY NOLA!! OH HAPPY EMPLOYMENT!! thanks to everyone who said a prayer for me.

Good for you Sarah. Good luck at your new awesome job.

holyfuckingshitsarahcongratsdoesitrequiremsprojectatallihopesootherwisewatcher'sretirementwillbesorelyhurting!

Way to go Sarah, I'm so happy for you.Score

That's wonderful, Sarah! What a cool job.

way to go

See what having a high priest on your side, masaging th eluck plane, will do? Nah, it was all you! Way to rock their faces!

Awsome Sarah.

Yay Sarah!

where are you sarah?!!? get in touch with me. or book a room or something.

Congratulations Sarah. I have been looking for that "just right" job for about a month now, with no luck. Here's to you for being able to land exactly what you wanted!!!! (Eri drinks a whole glass of wine) :p

Congrats! and how freaking awesome holiday do you get!!

R.C.'s 2 cents worth: Sarah: You can do booze or valium/but not both. You know better -- the combo only makes you more depressed. Pick 1 poison at a time to try & ease yr mind. And keep up the yoga/at least. You know you're a very active woman -- yr body *needs* a lot of excercise to function properly As for Kevin/ask yrself this (I've been gone from for a while myself/so I didn't know you'd left Hawaii or where you are now): "If he weren't here now/what wd I be doing to make myself feel better that I'm not doing now?" If you need or want to do things w/out him/get up & start doing them! Take a long hike. Or a walk/if there are no mountains. Go to the pool & swim for an hour. Whatever makes *you* feel better. He hasn't got you tied to a chair/has he? If you can't do those things becuz of his phobias or whatever/then maybe he really isn't the right guy for you. Maybe you 2 need to take a break so you can focus on yr own mental well-being. Being out of work is always stressful. But not doing things that you *know* will help relieve some of that stress & put you in a better mood is just plain self-defeating. You can't pin that on anyone else.

And Nate -- that was killer! I printed a copy & it's posted it my wall right now.

R. C.: come to NOLA this weekend.

wow, thanks RC. thanks everyone! it's hard to believe how much my outlook on life has changed overnight. of course, there's the issue of kevin again. still. it's up and down. right now i'm in the position of dealing with his complicated emotional response over me having the "real" job now and him "just" doing contract work. he's not the provider all of a sudden, and dealing with backlash from his previous relationship which was very career/financially competititve. so there's that. but then again, there's NOLA. and he's not coming with me. no way. no how. i am not tied to a chair, RC. i went to the school district yesterday to fill out paperwork. they hauled me off to the new administration building where i not only met but was hugged by Dr. H - the superintendent, as well as one of the other women i interviewed with (who also pulled me aside and said, "as soon as you walked out of the interview we all just looked at each other and agreed to hire you." i also was hugged by about half of the curriculum team, the PR representative, and both assisted supers flirted with me. all together i met probably 30 people yesterday. every single one of them, even the ones who have no interest in or a job related to the school's website, they were almost absurdly exuberant over me, or more likely, over the addition of this position to their staff, which i happen to be chosen to fill. i mean, their website is dismal. and they have big plans. and big hopes. so anyway, it's nice to be wanted somewhere. and then a month after i start, i get vacation! ha! HA HA HA take THAT, big bad evil bank from hell! and last night was the first night i slept w/out the aid of my beautiful little blue pills in about a month. and i slept 8.5 hours!

i love it when RC lectures. But i gotta differ...valium a few glasses of wine is what its all about. You don't really have to worry about the danger, unless you've taken over 40mg and drank the whole bottle...THAT's dangerous. Think about it...with pills, they caution the lowest common denominator, so to speak, those MOST sensitive to pills. Advil, they say take only 2...but how often does 2 really work? So, you know, they say know alcohol because of the 5% who are mega senstive to pills. Lately Ive been dodging my valium...I havent liked the way I've been waking up BUT a good friend of ours, has been hooking us up with "vikeys" every so often. That stuff is dreamy with a glass of wine.

Sarah, would you be comfortable giving us a link to the current site, so we can see the before and after?

yesh. please. way to go sarah!

Sem: NOLA's out of the question for me right now. I'm only 2 1/2 mos. into my 3 month tenuous temp status/so I get no sick time or vacation time. And & my schedule is Sun.-Thurs. so I cdn't manage a wknd away w/out losing a day's pay. But the Parental Units are talking abt a train trip to NOLA there in the Spring & they've offered to pick up my tab if I wanna tag along. So I'll chill thil then. And frankly/I'm holding out for the West Coast Sorabjifest so I can see Nate's fabulous crib w/the river running thru the backyard. I think Sarah's body is a bit more sussceptible than yours, Patrick. She prolly works out more in a day than you do in 2 wks. And every athlete I've ever known had a hyper-sensitivity to pills. I knew a swimmer who got nosebleeds if she took even 1 asprin. A line of coke wd have her sweating like her heart was abt to seize up. But Sarakins has a job now/so she's A-okay. :) Girl, go by yrself a bottle of Veuve Cliquot/drag Kevin to the top of the highest peak you can find/& serve him champagne from that tea pot he bought you. This fear of heights & hiking thing has gotta end! I went to Hawaii ages ago/as a kid on vacation w/ my parents. And I remember my Dad loved it so much he was talking abt calling a realtor to sell our house in NY & just staying there forever. (But you know Mom was having none of that.) If I ever get to live on any of the Hawaiian islands/I'll prolly stay there til I die. You & Kev are like Adam & Eve -- but *you* chose to leave Paradise out of yr own sense of adventure. How cool is that? And yr life is abt to get GOOD! Bonne chance w/the new gig.

I GOT A HOUSE! Its okay - not flash, but cheap and many rooms to lose myself in. So if you can all be here in New Zealand on Saturday to help me move it would be very much appreciated. Thanks. ; )

Since I'm still up & here/let me be the 1st to say CONGRATS, MOONIT! (But don't be a slacker like I was & take 18 mos. to finish unpacking. Get all yr shit out of boxes within the 1st 2 weeks.) Is it all yours/or do you have a housemate? And post some pics once you're settled in.

Congrats on the house moonlit. I'd offer to go to New Zealand and help, but the money tree in the back yard just went heads up. It got sick of me, pulled itself out by the roots and ran away. No trips anywhere any time soon.

Ya Moonit! I'll see if I can book a flight on short notice.

I'd help, moonit, but of course you had to pick the weekend of Sorabjifest 2001.

Yes sorry about that. Anyway I'm in here now, and I'm half unpacked, and I planned to have all my shit finished by Wednesday - today (monday) is a public holiday, and I have to work tues, but I have wed off so that should be sweet. The landlord has a locksmith coming on Wednesday to change the back door lock - he did the front on Saturday, and I'm planning on getting an alarm (all the neighbours have them). Just had the Po-lice come because apparently at about 4am on Saturday morning the house down the road had an explosion (yes this neighbourhood is kinda scaring me now), and they wanted to know if I'd heard anything. I've now lost 8 kilos all up. Ferg is a bitch - she starting meowing at 3.30am this morning. Grr. But I think she just misses the other cats and 'drew. This house smells like smoke and wet dog. So I'm trying to fix that too. I have to read a book today and do the review - which might be a bit of a mission. Anyway I'm alive YAY, and my house is okay!

Yippee Moonit... happy for you... Have to send your address because I'm making your "Montana Package".

An explosion? Wow. I'm impressed.

What kind of neighbors have explosions at 4:00am? Do you think it was a warning,or just an experiment,that went terribly awry?

Um no, apparently she tried to burn out her car a couple of weeks ago, and this time she tried to do the house - well thats the neighbourhood rumour anyhoo. freakin weirdo. (the neighbour not you) hehe montana package. cool

so, like i said, my job kicks ass. first of all, i have my own office. in a new building. and all the other people in the technology department, including my boss, work in an entirely different building. a lot like my old bank job, actually. my new boss is cool. he's about 45 and very texan and very animated. he's too busy to worry much about me so far. i work with a bunch of school teachers and former school teachers. they all wear school teachers clothing. the break room is always full of chatty school teachers and glazed cinnamon rolls and everyone takes turns bringing in really high grade coffee, which is made with an industrial Braun machine that pumps out an entire pot of coffee in 90 seconds flat. and there's a quart of half n half in the fridge that anyone can help themselves to. the most peculiar thing about working with school teachers and former school teachers is that they all speak to you and to each other like they are standing up in front of a class room. they are very dynamic speakers, very thorough, very animated. they know how to keep your attention. the administrative assistants are all kinda ditzy but all very nice and helpful. none of the maintence folks speak english. which is also a lot like at the bank job. i have two computers. a G3 and a brand spanking new Dell 933mhz. uhyeah. i have toys. scanners and cameras and a Palm and any software i want. today i fixed and uploaded two websites done by two schools (one elementary and one middle school) in the district. in the meantime, i've just now settled in and begun sketching out a new interface for the new design. i'll post the URL at some point before i overhaul it. i just don't have it on me right now cuz i'm at home and i don't feel like looking it up.

You rule sarah... And as serious as I can possibly be- I want to grow up and be like you one day, although it will probably never happen because I could never be as cool as one such as yourself. I say that with sincerity and not one hint of sarcasm because I'm proud of you, and you will go far and they will worship you for being the technical goddess that you will be to them.

good lord Hal. thank you so much for your kind words. it probably sounds like rhetoric, but i'm probably not as cool as you think i am. and we should all grow up to be who we are. but thanks for being proud of me, that makes me feel really good. today at work was really bizarre. my entire department, one by one, made a point to drive over to my building and visit me in my office. each of them stayed between 20 to 60 minutes and all they wanted to do was chat. whoooo boy do those folks chat. they were entirely eager to share with me their life stories from beginning to present. i was amused in the best way. i know more personal info about my boss after our 2 hour visit tonight than i knew about any single person i worked with at the bank in 18 months. it was almost surreal they way they were so matter of factly guiding the conversation in such a way as to reveal very personal and sometimes peculiar things about themselves. i must seem like an anomoly. or something. some random woman from hawaii picking up and moving to texas. working in Pflugerville, Texas. an old but burgeoning farming community north of austin. i've been treated to lunch, they bought me a staff t-shirt (because when i was told i could order one i declined because i didn't want to afford the $30), and sheila the secretary who is a single mother of two who works full time and goes to school at night and just started a romance with a guy she met last weekend and who has tattoos on her angle of the names of her kids invited me to happy hour next friday. chrisi is getting married in febrary and i know every intimate detail of the dress, invitation, and the good bad and ugly family ordeals. kathryn and her husband have no kids, drive expensive cars, and compete in national water ski competitions. my boss, Randy, is a hoot. he told me every single prank he pulled as a drafting/engineering teacher 14 years ago. bachelor from San Antonio. used to live in Colorado. i know the entire history of his family, his brother, his brother's kids, his cholesterol level, and his eating habits. he also plays softball on a co-ed intramural team of some sort. i think perhaps he is lonely. a 46ish year old bachelor, very texan, sweet as can be. he spent 2 hours in my office tonight. 30 minutes talking business, 90 minutes shooting the shit. i barely got any work done today with all the interruptions, but i think it's gonna be alright. i'm off and running and i love this job so far. it feels so much better and more right than that dumb bank job ever did. these people may be chatty, but their not stupid, they are realistic and methodical and professional and fun. so far so good. i feel really lucky. i want to do exceptional work for them. the valium is kicking in. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. goodnight everyone. oh yeah... I got the thanksgiving issue of Martha Stewart's Living and HOLY MOTHER OF GOD do i have some cooking to do! whooooo!

stories, sarah. look at all the pretty stories. Do they know they have a writer in their midst? Don't tell them. :) Just soak it all up, and one day write a short story collection titled "Pfucking Pflugerville"

That is, of course, after you write "Suck-my-ass Sorabji"

bbq's, high school ball, and bake sales from here on out. *GOD DAMN YOU GEOCITIES!!!! SAVE MY PAGE!!! fuck, this thing is gonna stall on me, and im gonna have to do this whole god damn page all over again.* its great to find out the host of your 13+ homepages is crapping out on ya, closing shop (nerve). So no im slowly redoing them on geocities. So far so good, except when the "save function decides to stall.Im sure this is elementary to some, like sarah, who build web pages...

I suck balls at websites.... Give me hardware, and I'll be fine. Can't code worth shit. Know my basic HTML now, doesn't do me dick unless I want to learn PHP, which I kinda do but I have no realworld application to it right now.

"fine" eh? Like switching your IDE chains and discovering that nothing works fine? Heh. Imjusmessinwithya. There are lots of real cheap places to get some webhosting done that are phenomenally better than geocities. I'd offer to host your sites, but our server has been getting dusty waiting for Multiband to make with the internet connection.