7:46 p.m. - 2007-05-09
Got that Podunk Feeling
don't leave me hanging, seraphina said fingers snapping. i never liked that saying. it creeps me out. she used to say i was her favorite story-teller patient. she's my shrink. & i feel i have to entertain her.another responsibility. my boston terrier, fritz, lays his head on my lap.when i stop petting him he tries to get his muzzle under my hand,eyes plangent. you know the kind,the ones you can't resist. when he goes for his water i get up and lock my door. returning he lies in front of the door snuffling furiously,scratching tentatively, before settling down to a low whinyish grumble. i turn up puccini. he was from texas. drove over the bridge to take photos of city & bridge.. he saved your life, Big S said. i said he took my mind off it. for awhile.

4:23 p.m. - 2007-05-09
ENABLED DISABILITY
Things were not going well. i couldn't say i was happy or even satisfied. My depression, lifelong, depresses me because for some reason it is drug-resistant altho not whooly. My frumpy feelings remain intact but encased beneath a thin layer of ice. They continue to flow by without snagging onto me.. My defenses are fortified with this daily regimen: 80mgs prozac;400mgs wellbutrin;200mgs lamictal.i remain on the decline,toes straining to keep a foothold on the second last rung on that deep dark ladder. It used to start like a train. I could sense it, know it's coming round the bend whistle-blowing, going so fast it's a blur, derailing thoughts & feelings like box cars. And i greet it as i always do taking my hand from my pocket and waving like a shy dove.It usually takes about 2 intense weeks before i fall off the ladder into the hole. Phew, it whittles me down to a stub, a sliver. No amount of pulling pillows over my head lessens it hold on me.Just like Freddie Kruger. Last night I was kneeling on the kitchen floor with my head in the oven, doing a practice run, until i realized it was an electric turbo-convection. i couldn't stand the heat so i popped the door closed. i had to think of something else. of course, i was worried about making a mess (bloodied wrists),who would find my body (where should i do it) i knew nothing of guns. didn't want freaking someone out bigtime when the body was discovered. I considered myself clever when i remembered my car,beatup rusting orange bug circa '76. There was a hole in the back floor (caused by the eruption of acids from the battery).How simple.Attach a hose to the tail pipe, insert through hole.All systems GO, i decided. Should i do it in front of my flat where it is parked or should i drive somewhere remote? Like Marin Headlands?I decided to go to Stinson Beach. It was approximately 10pm when i pulled on my jacket & took off. Once over the Golden Gate i got sorta kinda lost. I'm not very good with maps. I weavilled through the darkness my eyes glued to the winding road.I didn't want to get into an accident. Finally, i found the road which leads to Stinson. Some miles up the serpentine i wondered where's the traffic. There should at least be a few cars coming and going. Hmmm. I didn't have to wonder long. Up ahead was a roadblock. Signs: danger, closed, prohibited. Land slides. closed from dec 2006 - june 07. effin A! I should read the newspaper more often. i rarely check online news or weather. I carefully backed up until i could turn around. Should i head back to the city? I was on the stretch heading toward the golden gate when i got stopped. flickering tail light.i got a fix-it ticket.obviously,not worried about that repair, eh, i smiled to myself tossing it to floor. There was a line of cars AS I crept toward the gg approach. It was midnite for chrissakes. Wud up wit dat. One of my favorite pastimes is listening to kids talking esp the back seat brats riding the bus to skewl.Those poor teachers. There was an accident on the bridge Al south-bound lanes closed until cleaned-up.I turned the engine off. Got out to smoke. JC omighty, i heard from the guy two places ahead. Smoke curled around him. I needed a light. he had burned his thumb with the lighter. he figeting. Maybe a tweaker. it was to dark to check his eyes wondering dilated or pinpointed? he kept combing his long fingers through his hair. what was left of it, anyway. It receded at the temples which i have always found sexy. Tall and fit, unlike me, scruffy looking in a good way, i began to switch ON. Would this a bonding event? i imagined his fingers knuckling my tousles.We had one of those impress you with my knowledge convos. the deadpanned humor ingratiating me, i focused on his full biteable lips.i could see those by the ember of my cigarette. The CHPies motorcycled along the caravan keeping us advised on the situation. There were fatalities. Instantly sobered and somber. dryden or was it milton? i could never remember. no man is an island don't ask for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee, quoted to myself. We could take the San Ramon bridge hesaid. I don't like that bridge, i said.Everybody's entitled to their thing.i felt responsible.besides i had no idea where it was though i knew it was somewhere down some road. My name's boredwell i extended my hand. He took it, Perry. This feels like one of those convos you have on the plane. You confess to them and they to you. Then you say goodbye both knowing the chances of ever seeing one another again is 1 in a million. maybe less. no matter i wouldn't remeber them anyway. suddenly, i was dying for a cuppa. coffee's my favoarite food..i wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

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