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February 03, 2002 | 8:02 PM

To All The Homes I've Loved Before (Part 10)

This is part Ten of the entries about all the apartments in which I�ve lived since moving back to Boston

5D)### Com Ave (Kenmore Square)>

Back and forth. Back and forth.

One day Angus and the next day it�s John.

I am grateful for their kindness, but the ridiculousness of the situation doesn�t escape me. I have become so helpless that I need to have both of my so-called lovers protect me from Crazy Alex. What would Kate Millet think? It seems like every time I try to take charge of my own life, things go horribly wrong and someone else has to bail me out.

I feel like the helpless girl in the silent films�the one who is always being tied to the railroad tracks by Simon LeGree.

Angus arrives within an hour and he has brought supplies�a thirty pack of Busch and the first three Phantasm movies. We call the police and file a report on Alex. Unfortunately, I don�t know his address or phone number and I am told very little can be done. This does not phase me, as I don�t expect very much from the police department anyway.

Angus fashions a makeshift police lock using a crowbar and a didgeriedo (don�t ask.) We drink some beer and watch Phantasm, which scares the bejeseus out of me. I cling to Angus the whole time. And he keeps his arm around me protectively.

We have made a silent pact not to discuss what happened between us. The sparks that flew the other night are absent now. I wonder maybe if it wasn�t just a fluke.

We fall asleep early�me on Penny�s bed, he on the floor.

The next day John calls. I fill him on the Alex situation. I tell him that I am terrified that if I leave the apartment I will come back to find Alex there and that he will kill me. John sounds genuinely concerned.

That fucking dick. Do you want me to come stay with you?

So John takes over from Angus. The changing of the guard so to speak.

We drink Blue Moon white ale and watch The Simpsons and then Annie Hall. John holds my hand and tells me nothing bad will happen to me. Penny will be home the next day. I am concerned because although Alex was talking craziness and I don�t think Penny would have lied to me, I know how wacky she is about him. What if they had gotten back together and she didn�t tell me? This thought nags at me. I do my best to wash it away with alcohol.

At the end of the evening I take a shower. The water goes hot and cold and hot and cold. No matter how many times I fiddle with the faucets, I can�t get the right temperature.

Afterwards I throw on my sleeveless pink nightie-- the one that cost ten bucks at Filenes basement. It is faded and the hem is frayed. I dry my hair with a towel as I walk into the main room.

John looks up at me. His blue eyes have gone dark and he speaks softly.

I�m really sorry that so many bad things have happened. And I�m sorry that I�ve hurt you.

I know you are.

We kiss. We go to bed together. This time it is so sweet. And it is comfortable. And afterwards he holds me the whole night. And I don�t have any nightmares.

We wake up the next day and make breakfast before going to work.

Stay tuned for part the eleventh

*****************************************

Oh by the way, I got alcohol poisoning this weekend. I really don�t recommend it as a pastime. Just about any other activity is preferable to those associated with alcohol posioning. Might I suggest for example, becoming a cheerleader for the Dallas Cowboys or golfing with Jerry Falwell?

Alcohol Poisoning = throwing up and throwing up and throwing up and throwing up. For hours and hours. I was so dizzy and sick that it didn�t occur to me to change the channel when Another Stakeout starring Emilio Esteves and his moustache was on television.

I didn�t even drink more than I usually do. But I hadn�t gotten any sleep all week and I also hadn�t eaten anything all day except a hotdog. So I wasn�t really in any shape for heavy drinking. Boy did I pay for that.

However, the silver lining is I did get to live on Popsicles for twenty-four hours, which was a total bonus. I forgot how good Popsicles were.

I gotta quit the whole drunken writer fixation�Dylan Thomas, Bukowski, Dorothy Parker, Raymond Carver. No good.

Let me leave you with this bit of wisdom from my personal hero, Robert Pollard of Guided by Voices fame.

How's My Drinking?

How's my drinking?

I don't care about being sober

But I sure get around

In this town

To hell with my church bells

And leave me die

With you

I won't change

time capsule from heaven - Sunday, Aug. 21, 2011
31 - Saturday, Mar. 15, 2008
Dead/Alive - Monday, Mar. 10, 2008
Do not trustTIAA-CREF-- they are fucking their customers - Friday, Jul. 28, 2006
Shilling - Tuesday, Jul. 11, 2006

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Anna/Female/26-30. Lives in United States/Massachusetts/Boston/Cambridge Harvard Square, speaks English. Spends 60% of daytime online. Uses a Faster (1M+) connection. And likes acting/music.
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