Tea and sympathy

I caught up with a friend yesterday, I call him "Zen Josh" because he is so zen and I know a few other Joshs. The plan was for us to drink a lot of tea. I was running late because my brain was retarded yesterday morning, in the extra time he had to wait for me he decided it would be a good idea to go up the road and buy sake and absinth. I got there, running late, no breakfast, and was greeted with a little cup of warm sake, followed by a glass of water and a walk up the garden path to a sheltered bit of the garden, we listened to some zappa and had some burned-sugary absinth, followed by wormwood tea in little tea cups from a matching teapot with japanese characters on the side that said something to the effect that "the steam escaping from the teapot" was what "life was about"...wormwood tea is incredibly bitter and the sensation of chasing the already not entirely pleasant taste of absinth with wormwood tea was akin to there being a party in my mouth and someone setting fire to the curtains.We listened to explosions in the sky, after me deciding I felt like I was made of cotton wool and him deciding he felt like he was made of wet clay, and then copper wire we made a break through the rain and brewed some different tea, collected watermelon, cashews and grapes and headed back out to the garden. We listened to Kyuss and watched out breath leave us in hazy wreaths and giggled as the combination of things we had so far imbibed settled in our stomaches and got to know each other, while we got on to the business of reminiscing and giggling at nothing in particular.We had a bunch more absinth and made more tea, then realised that water was incredibly necessary and we should really bring some out with us. It was decided that seeing my recently exed boyfriend to return his stuff would be a less than good idea due to the current state of my body/brain reaction to the chemicals I had given it. I left Josh's wasted, wondering if I would munt on the way up my mother's house. She had refused my suggestion of her giving me a lift even though it meant a 20 minute up hill walk in the rain for me and a two to four minute round-trip drive in a dry car for her. I got to my mother's house and gave my little brother his birth-day present, he Just turned nine. Then I lay on the floor for a little while and recovered. I visited my older younger brother and lent him some cds to burn. After leaving mum's I realised that I'd left the string-quartet-does-tool cd that I'd just borrowed, with my brother, sans case... I caught the train home and tried very hard to make my room warm after finding that the houseguest had left all the doors open.

theFUCKINGPIXIES

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ugh

Tomorrow it will have been two weeks since a large man from sydney first crashed on our couch. In that time, or rather more quickly than that he has proven himself to be a big fat slob .He hasn't once done the dishes, he doesn't recycle the cans from his steady diet of beans, even though I have repeatedly explained to him the process(take the lid off, rinse it, put it in the recycle bin..."Why can't this be the recycle bin?" "Because that's the Rubbish Bin.")ugh. He leaves his stuff everywhere, spends all his time here on the internet, leaves his long hairs around the bathroom. Used my facewasher to clean the stubble from trimming his beard (a million tiny stubbly hairs that won't come out, no matter how many times I keep washing it)... Has not once bought toilet paper, in spite of regular asking. Is using all my spare blankets so I have been frozen on the cold nights. He was only supposed to stay here two weeks so I'm hoping that tomorrow is the day that this tax on my sanity leaves. I have enough to contend with without him talking incessantly, and belittling everybody in his funny little way, I don't know how a 26 year old theatre graduate who subsists on beans and lemonade can feel so morally superior to everyone all the time...I usually haVE A PROBLEM WITH COnfrontation, but once I got over that I found that he simply doesn't listen...ugh
I have begun drinking in the daytime now, on my own, but that could be unrelated.

Catch him red handed only if his palms are bleeding

They were.
Bleeding I mean. Let me begin again at the beginning. I've been looking for a way out and I messed it up before, a couple of times; cut and ran. Then tripped and fell and was trapped again. I keep repeating myself, sentences and behavioral patterns, fencing myself in.Had a couple of hours to myself in self imposed isolation, then, got some worrying phone-calls from a lost bleeding martyr: "where are you?"-" I'm coming to you"-"but where ARE you NOW?"-"I don't know"-"what can you SEE?"-"The sky is above me"-"never mind that, what are you standing on?"-"stones"-"where are you?"-"on some traintracks"-"get off the traintracks"-"..."-"get the fuck off the traintracks and call me back"...Guided via phone to a service station, the bleeding martyr cabs it to my house in the wee hours of the morning. Five or so cups of green tea and me washing the blood and dirt out of his hands, he's telling me "You don't know how many movies I was just getting to you"- sleeping trains and industrial landscapes had been his backdrop and the black hoodie I had previously given him as a present was shredded from his climbing six or so(he said) barbed wire fences, a cuff missing, pants that needed patching, a bloodied Ren and Stimpy t-shirt. I bandage fingers and palms, sew up gaping wounds in torn clothing and keep him lucid with caffeine to prevent another concussion. This is how he erases himself. I suspect the part I fell in love with was onesuch, gone now and possibly never to be recovered. He told me he kissed some girl on the lips because they won at pool. I just felt cold. I nursed him back to health and told him it can't keep happening like this, for real this time. We are on indefinite hiatus til he has proven I don't have to worry like this any more. I don't know when I'll see him again. Just hope I can figure out the difference between being in love and being lonely, I like being alone but get sick of my own company in large bouts. I prefer it in large boots, but I need to get them re-soled.

Infected by James Spader