7:09 p.m. - Sep 24, 2001
Pathetic
Sometimes we can find ourselves acting very pathetically. Embarassingly pathetic.
Like myself, for instance.
On Saturday, I found myself driving around with a six-pack of beer (unopened) and a fresh pack of smokes. And I couldn't, for the life of me, find a single person on the face of the earth that wanted to help me drink it. Except, perhaps, those two panhandlers that asked me for spare change when I pulled over in Jax parking lot, to make yet another unsuccessful phone call.
I called Philly & Sasha - no luck.
I called Natalie - no luck.
I called Craigipu - no luck.
Clint was in Galveston. I called him to chat - no luck.
I even broke down and called Walter - no luck.
Yes, I called Walter.
I even went so far as to leave Walter a vmail, telling him that I was in the area and wanted to see of he (and his friends from Austin) wanted to hang. They were, afterall, friends of mine at one point as well. And, besides (I was justifying in my mind), Walter & I had left on good terms - and agreed to be friends.
Friends.
At some point in the future.
How pathetic. I actually left him a vmail.
As I was driving back down 11th street, towards Shepherd, I could see that Walter was having a party. At least, SEVERAL of his friends' vehicles were parked in the street.
I'm sure they were all enjoying a nice laugh about my vmail.
How pathetic.
What WAS I thinking? I was thinking that I really could've stood for some company.
But, from Walter?
Is it FAIR for me to lean on HIM for friendship and companionship when I just FUCKED his world?
I mean, what WAS I thinking?
He was kind, though. He called me at work and apologized for not being able to call me back. I apologized for being so pathetic - and that I knew better than to lean on him. And he cried. And he said he had to go and we said goodbye.
I feel just awful.
Sometimes I don't use my FREAKIN brain.
Then I went back to my little temporary apartment with my unopened six pack of beer.
And I couldn't open a single bottle of beer. Heineken. I didn't have a bottle opener. I sliced open my knuckle, trying to do that thing with the lighter that people do, to open the bottle. I still don't understand how to do this.
I figured that someone was trying to tell me not to drink alone...I took this as a sign and just gave up. I sat up in bed with my Sprocket (kitty meow) and read books.
I will take this turn of events (and the point of putting them to "paper" here) as a lesson in humility.
