October 14, 2013
Well after I write to you invisible journal reading people, I’m going for a run, then I’m going with Howard to play the blues. I’ve gotten really good at the harp. I think so anyway. Sweetheart says I play well, and Pete. And Little Sweetheart and Gary Oldman (II) like it also. Nobody, not even Pete, knows I’ve joined this band. I still think maybe I will surprise people with it, especially Emma. The only one who knows is Sharly, because I had to change my work schedule. Pete thinks I just picked it up as a hobby to help me quit smoking, and actually it has helped me cut back. I had gotten down to 5 cigarettes per day, then I got back up to about 10 – 15, now I’m back down to 5. And I never smoke around the baby. I even try not to smoke around Gary Oldman (II). I called my mom Saturday and told her about Sweetheart and the baby, and she was dumbfounded. That’s a great word. Just fucking dumbfounded, in a combination of hurt and excited. Hurt because she knew nothing about it at all, not even when I first found out Sweetheart was pregnant. There was no need to tell her after Sweetheart left.
So my mom and dad and sister came over Saturday to see the baby. Hasty and Patrick came by as well. Everyone bought baby gifts, mostly clothes. Sharly told me I didn’t have to come in after all because my Saturdays won’t begin until next week, so that was good. My mom was all over the baby and was happy that Sweetheart named her Valentina. She was calling her Tina, she said it was such an Italian name. Midway through the visit I went outside to have a smoke. I just felt like leaving, running away again, like a kid. I don’t know why this is bringing me down so much. Why can’t I just be a fucking man about it?
Later that night after everyone left, I decided to go visit Paula, because I just wanted out and I didn’t want to see anyone that I’d have to talk about the baby with. I just wanted to be selfish for a little while. But on the way to her house, I broke and got a bottle of whiskey and drank it out of the bag as I walked. It was a long walk, like about an hour and a half. I planned for that though and I arrived on time, but very drunk. I hadn’t known how drunk I was until I sat down, then it all hit me. The walk there kinda kept me coherent. If I remember correctly, Paula was pissed at first. But then I think I was saying I was sorry and there was some shit going on that I didn’t want to talk about and I just needed to be with her that night. I think that made her feel good that I chose her. We ended up having sex. I barely remember but I think I just lied there while she took my clothes off. I was so drunk I couldn’t even do it and just stopped half conscious on top of her. Then I rolled off of her, so she finished on top. But I think I was too drunk to cum. I do remember her saying, “you’re not even going to remember this are you?” I was like, “I think I’m forming memories.” I probably didn’t forget that because it made me laugh, I thought it was hysterical at the time.
I had the worse hangover all day yesterday. I couldn’t get out of bed. Paula almost wanted to take me to the hospital. When I got home, Pete let me crash in his room and I spent the whole night there. I told him I was sick, but he probably knew I was hungover. Even though I showered, I think my pores reeked of alcohol. And I’m pissed because I missed the premier of “Walking Dead.” wtf.
But I’m glad I feel better today so I can run and try to resume being good again. And it’s a good day to play the blues. Yeah, I have the blues. I’m resentful of Sweetheart, discouraged and disgusted with myself. I can’t believe I relapsed. And I didn’t even want to go home yesterday, but I didn’t want to stay with Paula another night, although part of me did, just as an escape. I walked home, though she offered to drive me. I just wanted the time alone to think. I almost didn’t go home. I wanted to hop on the fucking train and go into Boston and just lose myself somewhere. But I didn’t for a few reasons. First, it was cold and I might’ve ended up having to sleep on the street because…Second, I didn’t have any money on me. I’ve been in that situation before, but usually I end up in a bar and somehow manage to not pay for the drinks by just taking off and I usually find someone to crash with. Third, I thought about Emma. Again I’m selfish. I decided to go home and be responsible because I want Emma. If I took off and went back to my old ways, then I know I wouldn’t even make a last attempt with her because I’d be far too deep with discouragement and who knows if I’d be able to pull myself out of that. I’d be gone and blow it with Pete, Sharly, Emma, Howard, and I’d be a degenerate father.
I wish I lived alone. I think that’s part of it. Some days are harder than others and I don’t always feel like being with anyone, even if it is just Pete. I just want to hibernate in my own private cave and have the rest of the world fuck off. Because I don’t show all these inner workings to anyone. I have a bad day I don’t share it with anyone. I pretend like everything’s fine. Then I break and fuck up and people I guess figure there’s something going on because of my actions. Or maybe they just think I’m fucking stupid, just partying and being reckless, finding pleasure in self destruction, while secretly it just breeds self deprecation. I want my own place so I can be alone and have reprieve when I want it. But then maybe it would be easier to get fucked up. I don’t even know what’s best for myself, how the fuck am I supposed to know what’s best for a baby? I even abandoned Gary Oldman (II) in order to go to Paula’s.
Ok this is fucking bullshit. I have to stop this stupid self pity. I’m pathetic. I’ll just channel it all out when I run and pour it out into the blues. And I know what song I’m going to sing today. “Mannish Boy” by Muddy Waters. Then I’ll feel all right.
Ok invisible journal reading people, you’ve heard enough complaints from me. It’s time for me to man-up and just go with the flow and do it with dignity. I’m going to suck it up and forgive Sweetheart and be the best fucking dad there is.
previous Grimm 125: Responsibilities & Resentments http://wp.me/p41c99-k4
next Grimm 127: Blues Monday, A Few WTF’s, & Talking With Howard http://wp.me/p41c99-kf
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