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Regular One - The Journal of ...
Note: This raw document is now the pathetic substitute for what was once a glamorous journal. This is all that's left. This journal is not edited to the usual LoserNet standards.
You Have the Right ...
To remain dead. VirtuaGirl sashays onto my taskbar every few minutes. That's as close I'll get to a babe in a long time. In any case, you are here with me and you will follow whatever course I choose to take. If I lose it, you'll be the first to know. What we have here is a tenuous and precarious situation. My sanity is barely kept in check by my last frazzled nerve. The fire water is also wreaking havoc on my neurons. So, this journal is all that I have. It is my only conduit to salvation. To sanity.
The handmaiden of the sinister one has reduced me to an empty shell. An eunuch. I am now devoid of what little self-esteem I had. I am a chimp (see R.1 for the poem Chimp II). Babes know how to exact a kind of vengeance in which guys rarely make it out unscathed. The cruel and menacing actions of these babes deplete the soul of its lifeforce. The real stupid part is that the unwitting accomplices are other stupid guys. So eager to get laid or to have female companionship, these idiots will stop at nothing to knock their brothers out of the running or sell them out just for a piece of ass. Thinking only with their dicks, they become slaves to both the babes and their own desires. The competition reaches a fever pitch and only one fool will come out on top. The others are relegated to the dung heap until another prospective babe comes along. How these idiots can muster up the strength to do battle again is beyond me. It's a three-ring circus. Guess who is the ringleader? It is this kind of desperation that turns the mating process into the game that it is. Everything is a game. But, we play for keeps. There's only one winner. It's the sheer force of biology that causes this reckless abandon that eventually turns into a bloodbath of idiocy and mayhem. Guys will be subjected to this over and over again, even long after they have conquered their enemies (once their brothers). A guy could be thrown back into the theater of hell at any time, especially if his babe feels that he is not cutting the mustard. Don't laugh. Babes will always measure up a guy and that measuring device has no constants. It's dependent upon the other guys who are around at the time. Unwitting accomplices. A face in the crowd could easily become the unsuspecting fool's nemesis.
This is what I am up against now in the game of life. At my advanced age, I have little time to learn all the complex rules that have been built up since the beginning of humanity. I am at a severe disadvantage. That could mean countless battles in the theater of hell, each more debilitating than the one before. Each could be another ten volume set in the [UJ] archives. It is because I am a guy (although that may be questionable). I have a dick, and therefore I must wave it around and perform with it. It's a magic wand and I must do tricks with it. When I was a monk (and eunuch), I did not have to worry about all of this. It was mind over matter as I reduced myself to an asexual automaton. I was Data. I never used contractions when I spoke or in written word. I found strength in my singularity. I was able to subdue the demons. Now look at me. I'm a quivering blob of jelly. I am losing my mind over a scandalous and worthless ho' who robbed me of every ounce of my integrity. That's a dumb and childish statement. I can't blame her. I have to blame myself for being so stupid to allow it to happen. And, I have to blame myself for being so stupid as to let it continue to affect me. That is why I cannot heal. I need that portion of my soul back. Then, I will never part with it again.
It takes years of training to become a monk or a hermit. Just ask The Master. None of this happens overnight. Yet, it does not require a lot of skill. For example, dating requires far more skill than in training to become a monk. The only requirement for the monastic life is a tremendous amount of mental discipline. I have long since been distracted. I have lost that discipline. I continue to be distracted because of biology gone awry. Once held in check, it has now been unleashed as an omnipotent behemoth that now challenges my sanity. The fire water seems to provide temporary relief. It sedates the beast within. How long can I go before either my mind or my liver gives out? It took me ten years before I got on the wagon last time. I faced the same crisis then, and I vowed I would never let it happen again. Just after celebrating my fourth year of sobriety, everything came apart at the seams. At first, it seemed as though some kind of entropy was at play. However, I have come to discover that the whole situation was choreographed. Not by the sinister kahuna but by the handmaiden. The choreography was a natural extension of the pseudo-dramas we have seen. I am now convinced that the choreography is still being played out.
Sunday May 30, 1999
A chance encounter with the handmaiden's progeny. A cryptic revelation of what's going on. More fire water. The handmaiden continues to bamboozle everyone including her progeny with the same pathetic rhetoric that casts the blame everywhere else except upon herself. The handmaiden is a hapless victim. That is what she wants you to believe. But, after countless episodes immersed in completely suspicious circumstances, one has got to wonder. There is more than meets the eye.
I went to the gym in Waikiki for the last two days. I was apprehensive at first since I thought there was a good chance that I would run into the handmaiden of the sinister one. I was fortunate to have enjoyed a carefree workout each day. I believe that the handmaiden's days at the gym are numbered. I doubt that her potential suitors are inclined to that kind of workout. They are most likely more interested in doing the horizontal bop.
In any case, I believe that the situation has de-escalated. I'm going to stand down. However, I will need to keep my wits about myself. The fire water, for one thing, is doing me no good. From what I can tell, the handmaiden will be doing enough fire water consumption for the both of us. This is the time for me to regroup. I have to get off of the fire water. The handmaiden is not really worth any agony on my part. She is a lost cause. Not only does her past haunt her, it beckons her to return. And, return she did. I need to be free of her or I will end up as dysfunctional as she is. How long will her act hold up? I don't know. There are too many stupid and gullible people around to continue to empower her. I was one of them.
In the past few weeks, I have taken the time to observe that there are some nice babes out there. They are demure and feminine. Don't mistake what I just said to mean passive and stupid. I am not a pig, just a chimp. The only babes that I have seen with similar personalities and cussing ability as the handmaiden are the ones that hang around with the derelicts near the Burger King on Fort Street Mall.
Monday May 31
Bruce and I went to CompUSA because Bruce wanted to go on a computer nerd shopping spree. After that we ended up looking for a convenient watering hole. Somehow we ended up at Hooter's. That place can drive a guy berserk. I'm not sure if I can handle being there more than once a year. The babes who work there only tend to increase the fire water consumption, if you know what I mean. No calls in my calling queue although I had an unidentified call yesterday morning. Whomever called had a restricted number so I did not know who it was. Could it have been the handmaiden? Nah, I doubt it.
For those of you who had a holiday today, I hope that you had a great time. Summer is finally upon us and I haven't got the foggiest idea about what I'm going to do. That, of course, left me no choice but to enjoy a GrooveTech evening with my beloved notebook computer. Life just doesn't get any better, eh?
Tuesday June 1
Well, Anonder got his latest update out in a flash. At least he's getting some action. All I'm getting is grief. Sheesh! Annie wrote some interesting comments about the "situation" as we know it:
To answer a question, yes, there are lots of nice babes out there who enjoy the wild thing immensely, as frequently as possible. But most of them are not "perfect". They are not overtly flirtatious or seductive, or they do not have gym-babe bodies, or they have been so beaten down by stupid people that they do not make the effort anymore. They are like hurt birdies, too, and need time and care. Some just need to be given a chance. Some just need to be accepted for who they are.
I have a friend who says he wants to get married and although far from perfect, he is a great guy. But the minute he starts dating someone, he starts looking for The Flaws. Yesterday we were with him and a new babe, who obviously finds him stimulating. He began to tell me the Fatal Flaw, and I just had to tell him to shut up and enjoy what he has while he has it. What's the use in having a babe if all you are going to do is criticize her until she flees. You know what it is like to have a babe hammering at you for all that she thinks you should be doing. Imaging being hammered at for your body type or your taste in clothes or any number of stupid things? Babes and Studs do it to each other all the time. I am glad I opted out of that years ago. And then look what happened? I hit the jackpot!
I personally have the theory that one cannot prepare a place for a special someone in one's heart until one has made peace with oneself. If one is not continually self-flagelating, one is less likely to take one's dissatisfaction out on others, especially those one claims to love
I think that there's message here, eh? Part of being a loser is to be self-flagellating. A lot of these kinds of problems have to do with one's early family life. I think that I just need to reacquaint myself with my hand as per Anonder. The babe situation is too much for me anyway. Everyone is too scandalous. You can't trust baby and you can't even trust your friends. There's no line too thick to cross just to get a piece of ass. Why? Because the grass is always greener on the other side. For people like me, it would just be an endless series of heartaches and drinking binges. I'll be honest with you. I'd love to skin up hundreds of babes that I see every day. Yet, realistically, I could never do that. The wild thing is not going to be that much different from one babe to the next. It will always be extremely wild and passionate as far as I'm concerned. I also happened to see one of the Hooter's babes at the gym today. I think she recognized me but I was busy being eunuch-like. Maybe it's all just too much for me. I should just warm up some milk and break out the hot water bottle already. By the way, today was the first day I didn't consume any fire water.
Wednesday June 2
Day two without the fire water. What is going on? I'm not going to make it sober, or am I? There were six unidentified calls in my calling queue this afternoon. Who is calling? Was it the handmaiden? I doubt it. Someone is playing games with the oversized lavahead. I'm playing games with myself by not answering the phone. Well, I figured that, if I don't know who it is, then I shouldn't have to answer.
I have been talking with Rick, another instructor at the university. He has a doctorate but he is also teaching part time. We chatted for about an hour today. He told me about how he ended up in Hawai'i. He, too, is single. As for the "situation," he said, "I just try to keep real busy. To keep sane anyway." Interesting fellow. I'm sure he'll have more interesting stories as the days go by. Well, so far there is no indication that the last prediction of the sages will come true. I am no longer in danger. Come, let us celebrate with some fire water. Just kidding!
I spent the evening listening to GrooveTech again. Somehow it just wasn't the same without a brewski in hand. I can't believe that I have been on the fire water for the last four months. I've already spent about $600 on that crap. What a waste! The real test will be this weekend when I'll have nothing to do as usual. It shouldn't really bother me as I am a boring fellow. I could become a real computer nerd again. I can buy up all kinds of nerd equipment like John in San Jose or Bruce. Do I really need three computers though?
Thursday June 3
The mystery of the unknown phone calls has come to an end. Most of the calls were from Paul in Seattle. It's strange because I'm finding out that a lot of people have their numbers blocked and don't even know it. That's the case with moms' phone number, too. What an idiot I am, thinking that the handmaiden was calling. Sheesh!
This is day three of my new sobriety. Let me tell you, I was tempted to run down to the store and buy a case of fire water. The night is still young. I may break down and give in to the sinister kahuna. It really is pathetic. I have been driven to this level of stupidity because of the "situation." Is it really worth it? I believe now that everyone was right. My self-image must be so low that I do not believe that I will ever find another babe. There is no other explanation. I've been living in the closet for too long. And, if I don't find another babe, so what? What am I gonna do? Down some Drano? The key point is this ... if I want another babe, then I have to play the "game." If I don't want to play the "game," then no babe. Simple. This is life. I cannot change the rules. So, as you can guess, The Master and I will be along the sidelines forever. Now let's go have a brewski!
Friday June 4
I stupidly broke down and bought some fire water last night. Then, today I ended up at Mango's. What good is it doing? It's certainly not chasing the demons or the handmaiden of the sinister one away. I can't believe that I'm admitting my own stupidity here and opening myself up for further chastisement. Don't worry, I know that I deserve it. I've also continued to view my demise as a function of the handmaiden's activities. The stupid part is that the handmaiden has not an ounce of concern about me. In the end, I'm beginning to see that I have been confusing the wild thing with spirituality. Well, even I, a monk, realize the tremendous spiritual component of the wild thing. Just kidding! I've never really thought about it but, in retrospect, I now see why I have avoided getting involved with babes like Clare. I am addicted to the wild thing. Yep, we would have been doing the wild thing almost every waking moment if I could help it. I met my match with the handmaiden of the sinister one. I can't believe that I am making these kinds of confessions. After all these years as a monk, it's hard to fathom that I have resorted to this kind of debauchery. However, I'm not just talking about indiscreet and random encounters. There has to be something beyond the raw animal attraction and lust. That something is spirituality, my friends. Spirituality.
What kind of monk am I anyway, bemoaning the loss of endless sensual trysts? Could it be the onslaught of psychosis? I should be ironing my robes. I often wonder why I can't be a syndicated columnist. I'd write my usual stuff. The mundane loser's life. The monk experience. The wisdom of The Master. The eunuch-like behavior. I'm sure you get the picture. There must be a niche. Hey, maybe I can write for FortuneCity. Nah, I don't use my hand enough to qualify for the job. Take your right hand and move it up and down! (sing along) Move it up and down! Move it up and down!
Saturday June 5
The idiotic drinking binge continued on. I drank a whole case of brewskis in one sitting for no particular reason except the obvious. At least, in the latter part of the afternoon, I sat outside and watched the clouds roll by. I also had my Smooth Jazz CDs playing on the good ol' Acoustic Wave. I know for sure that I am at the crossroads of sanity. I cannot stop the maddening processes no matter how hard I try.
I drove my beloved six-four to Kahala Mall again. That's all I do now on weekends. Barnes & Noble. It's nice to drive around with the top off. I can't really stand a regular car anymore. I feel claustrophobic in those sardine cans. Of course, the rich leather appointments in a Boss Hog vehicle such as a BMW can make any babe melt. Who the [copulate] really gives a [dung]?
I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to do about my sanity. Several people have written to me about their own breakup experiences and they mentioned that the healing time took quite a while. Years, to be specific. I don't think I have the fortitude to make it through even one year of this [dung]. The stupid part is that it's not like I'm losin' it over, say, Jenna Jameson. Yes, I know that she's a hurdy-gurdy babe. I just happened to accidentally stumble upon an image file of her doing some awfully unfamiliar things. Ho boy! The handmaiden does not even remotely resemble Jenna (at left). Can you guess that I have overdone it with the fire water? The handmaiden is winning this game and she doesn't even know it. I'm just too stupid to realize that I'm doing myself in. I'm reaching out from the bowl to flush the toilet on myself. All I know is I had better get real sometime soon. The boat's coming in and I'm still not at the dock.
I listened to a variety of Smooth Jazz CDs at Barnes & Noble. There are quite a few on sale this month. I was losin' it as I stood at the listening stations. Tears were streaming down the porous surface of the lavahead. I really love Smooth Jazz but it also reminds me of the times I shared with the damned handmaiden. I wanted to buy them all. I would make a list of my all time Smooth Jazz favorites, but who really cares? Perhaps I should make a list of my all time favorites rap CDs. Where's Jenna?
Finally, I received my student evaluations in the mail. I didn't do as bad as I thought. I had one interesting comment from Christine at Chaminade. I knew it was her for obvious reasons. She wrote, "Also don't forget my dream. You never know. You could be a millionaire." What does the Dean think when he reads these crazy comments I get? As you may recall, the dream involved some cookies, a boat, Jenna Jameson, and some terrifying Chihuahuas. Was it a message? A sign? I don't know but there is something about this dream that has me wondering ...
Sunday June 6
I have to make a decision soon. I have to decide whether I can remain in Hawai'i and function normally. In other words, can I keep from going berserk? If I can't, then I must consider moving back to the mainland, at least for a short period of time. I'm here for a purpose, as you may recall. However, no purpose will be served if I am babbling and wearing my glasses backwards. I have written many times in the public journal about how close I was to losin' it. Those times were nothing compared to what I'm going through now. And, I see no end in sight. Sedation by fire water is proving fruitless. All it's doing is poisoning me.
It's beginning to look as though I need a monastic environment again. I need to regroup in solitude. I cannot be present to witness moms' quirky behavior. I also need to be as far away from the handmaiden of the sinister one as possible. I must discard any icons that may invoke any remembrance of her. It may be the only way that I can cleanse my soul. That's exactly what I had to do to get on the wagon last time. Monastic solitude is the answer. This is exactly what Bruce was hinting at when he said that I should take a couple of years off. Unfortunately, I cannot survive without any income as I have no dough. That's the proverbial Catch-22. So, what do I do? In the meantime, the tragic comedy continues. I continue to basically live out of a suitcase. Each day is another test of sobriety.
The real problem is that I'm extremely lonely. Can't you tell? Who else would spend so much time writing this crap? That sounds really stupid, I know. I'm also not used to doing things by myself anymore. And, it's just not the same as it was back in Convalescent City. Being in my forties is an anathema in itself. You've seen the ol' lavahead. He is not a stud. You won't see Jenna Jameson hanging out with him. So, now you know why dating is out of the question. Well, at least I'm back in the true LoserNet style.
Monday June 7
These are soon to be part of the "lost" journals. Possibly in a few months the original journal will make a comeback. Actually, it just doesn't matter. The journal has been ripped to shreds. It barely makes any sense unless one has all the facts available. And, frankly, that may never be possible. It really looks like I'm due for another time of reckoning. I'm looking forward to it. Well, hey! I'm hard-core unemployable! It may actually push me over the edge and I'll reduced be babbling, albeit happy, fool. I'm also starting to eat tuna (straight from the can) and rice again. Reminds me of the old days. I was healthier and saner then.
Some clown stole my socks and my gym towel from my gym bag today. What kind of pathetic bughead would do that? I had to buy some expensive socks at Liberty House and another gym towel. The jackass cost me about $15 for no apparent reason. As you can guess, that cut into my fire water fund. The sinister kahuna is back in big way. Maybe that's an omen that the handmaiden is right around the corner.
Tuesday June 8
More fire water. Piece of [dung] computer. VirtuaGirl. My beloved hand. My beloved, albeit non-ringing, digital cell phone. Is it time for me to revert to my soothsayer style once again? Maybe I should just eradicate LoserNet and replace it with one of those pathetic hurdy-gurdy sites. I have restored my monk haircut. My time of reckoning has come. Yes, my friends, welcome to the show that never ends. It's the city of bad dreams. Nightmares. The "lost" journals. The handmaiden's progeny leaves in two days. I have boxed up my Bose Acoustic Wave. My sole source of tunes is now NetRadio. Yes, to get the full effect of the "new" LoserNet, listen to GrooveTech while you peruse the journals. I just can't believe what a babe Jenna is.
I'm also getting rid of more stuff. I'm either giving the crap away or trying to sell whatever I can. I don't know why I always do this when I feel trapped. Each of my useless possessions is like a ball and chain, if you know what I mean. If I could, I would reduce everything I own to fit in one suitcase. That's all I need. Where I'm going, I won't need much. That's the "journal of the mind." Yes, the mind. A strange and dimensionless place.
Thursday June 10
I have now come to realize that many of my dreams were really omens or indicators of reality. And, my prayers have been answered in each and every case. I had to wonder why at first, but now I know that it is beyond coincidence. I have obtained a kind of spiritual connection, albeit undeserved, that has given me a new insight into an unseen dimension. This afternoon, I was somehow inclined to drive my six-four through the park. There was something telling me that I had to make that drive. Discovery. That's the purpose of it all. I have been seeking the truth and it has come to me through a higher source. I can no longer deny it.
I had lunch at Murphy's today with Chandamei, Cherie and Ginger. It's not every day that I am in the company of a multitude of babes. It was enjoyable but I had some kind of funny premonition that I was to later discover something. This, of course, was the day that the handmaiden's progeny departed for the last time. There will be more insight as the days continue. There will be a merging of the journals and archives. There will be an end to the mystery. I am the soothsayer.
I did make the discovery that has been long awaited. I was, at first, deeply hurt. Then, I realized that it was inevitable. The sages had predicted it. It will still be a while before I realize how fortunate I was. The handmaiden of the sinister one will no longer be here to taunt me. And, the sages, what will they say? I was protected by a higher source. I was given my freedom before I would have been totally destroyed. I have been given a gift of a miracle that I have yet to discover. The nightmares will come but they will eventually go away. There will be a new dawn. That I know for sure.
Friday June 11
Today is King Kamehameha Day here in Hawai'i so it was a holiday. As usual, I had nothing to do except to overindulge in fire water consumption. My time of reckoning is upon me once again. Yesterday, I discussed premonitions. The sages have made several predictions but none have been about the ultimate fate of the handmaiden. Will the handmaiden of the sinister one forever cheat the scales of justice? Only one of the sages has predicted, "She will end up a lonely, bitter old woman." In my own human frailty, I have scripted my idea of justice. If history repeats itself again, we can expect to see the handmaiden separated from her paramour in about two years. As usual, it will be a bitter and messy ending. I hope to be standing outside the Nature Company store at Ala Moana on the very day that the handmaiden approaches me for the first time in two years. She will ask me what's what. I will say that life is the same for me. She will then tell me about how things didn't work out for her and her prunefaced victim. Just as she is asking me about doing something sometime, an exotic gym babe walks out of the Nature Company and stands next to me. "By the way, did you meet my wife?" I ask. The handmaiden then disappears forever. Oh, what a dream!
If I knew for sure that this would happen, I'd be grinning from ear to ear every day. Alas, it's not a real premonition. It's just something I thought up. It would be true poetic justice. I have many more afterthoughts that I have not included here. It's going to take me a long time to realize how well I fared in this debacle. I may have been protected by a higher source. I never knew how close I came to real destruction.
Saturday June 12
I have got to get off of the "juice." It's doing me no good and my latest discoveries have shown that the handmaiden of the sinister one has already won at this game. She has come out on top again. Don't ask me how she does it. I could continue to sedate myself into oblivion. Then, the handmaiden wins another round. It's not really a competition but there are winners and losers. Guess which one I am? Yes, in this case I'll admit that I was a self-made loser. There really is no sense to the fire water consumption anymore.
What will I do now? Lord only knows. I have spent too much time on the handmaiden. It's time that I think about my own predicament. I won't be able to find a rich babe to take care of me. Being replaced by a balding, rich guy is embarrassing enough. I suppose that is incentive to make big bank. Then, I'd have my choice of babes, right? Wouldn't it be obvious to me that they only want my dough? I guess if I was rich, I would know the implicit agreement in this bartering process. I'd boink like there was no tomorrow to get my money's worth. Then, I'd move on to the next one. The handmaiden knows this game well. For the life of me, I cannot understand how I once fit in the picture. It is curious. The fire water has not made me understand it any better.
Perhaps I need to stop looking at myself as a loser in this game. In some respects, I've won and I've won big time. I certainly didn't need big bank for one thing. I came out of it relatively unscathed. Not really understanding the game, I've failed to see that it's time for me to get up, dust off my pants, and move on. I may have fallen but I did win. For a brief moment.
Sunday June 13
Today was so damned hot, I could barely think. The last of the fire water did little to quench my thirst. I didn't even want to walk to the bus stop so I didn't make it to the gym. Instead, I went for several hikes in the hot sun. Does that make sense? The bus and the gym have air conditioning. I also did yardwork out in this heat. Maybe the evil elixir is affecting my thought processes. My logic functions seem to be malfunctioning.
I happened to talk to Roland today. He likes the fire water himself. He said he was taking the day off from it. I briefly discussed my situation with him. That led into an anecdote about a similar situation that he had. Roland discovered that forgiveness was the key. It's the only way out. Roland was also a part time minister at one time so I place a lot of credence in what he says. More on that later. It's too hot to think.
Monday June 14
Hypergamy. An interesting topic and discourse that tends to explain the concept of "finding a rich guy." Some excerpts from "Upstream: The Garbage Generation" by Daniel Amneus are in order:
A man's friends would never congratulate him for "marrying up." They would make jokes about his eligibility for membership in the Dennis Thatcher Society, an organization "honoring" the husband of the British Prime Minister. On the other hand, one of the most damning things a woman's friends can say of her (behind her back, naturally) is "Margaret married beneath herself."
If men cannot outperform women they will not perform at all, and society will be lucky if male energies are merely wasted in narcissistic display rather than in disruptive violence and machismo. A man with nothing to offer a woman save a paycheck the size of her own is impossibly disadvantaged. He will know, and his wife will know that he knows, that the words "I don't need you, Mister" are always at her disposal and, thanks to the anti-male bias of the divorce court, she has an authority in the family greater than his own. Patriarchal capitalism prospers because it creates an arena of work wherein males are allowed to succeed and create wealth and where they are motivated to do so and rewarded for doing so by the satisfactions of family living.
Another afternoon at Mango's. Hypergamy and fire water. One is the cause. The other, the effect.
Tuesday June 15
Another day, another brewski. This time Chandamei, Cherie, and I went to Palomino's, a classy joint in town. Pete, the bartender over at Mango's, told Bruce and I about this place. However, we couldn't find it. Leave it to the babes to know where these places are. It's kind of fun to hang out with young local babes. It can make an old guy like me feel like a winner. Alas, that's somewhat elusive. I had a "power lunch," if you know what I mean. I gave them my beloved cell phone number. So, we may be hanging out more. Sure beats sitting at home.
Another hot GrooveTech night! How do those guys do it? And, they are based out of Seattle. Also found out that 24-Hour Fitness (my gym) is also now in Seattle. So is Palomino's. Whassup wi' dat? Say, how are the babes in Seattle anyway?
Wednesday June 16
Bruce and I found ourselves at Art's Hideaway. I had another "power lunch." I have been very tense lately. Can you guess why? Well, it gets even dumber than that, if you know what I mean. I felt that it was time to put into action what Roland had told me. Forgiveness. Not to be confused with cheesy melodramas. We're talking GrooveTech, not vanity. Starring none other than our hypergamist antagonist, the handmaiden of the sinister one. I've decided to become a metagamist. Why can't I find a Jenna Jameson clone?
As you can guess, my logic functions are malfunctioning. I actually think that they have shut down completely. What else could explain my lapse in judgment? It's part of the adventure, I assume. This story is already boring (as rated by FortuneCity), so I have to try to spice it up. However, I can't seem to get any "action." This should tell me something. I'm a loser? Well, don't worry, I may prove to be an even bigger loser tomorrow.
Thursday June 17
As to be expected, a blackeye was thrown into da game. Yep, there was no way I could fulfill my mission and, thus, there will be unfinished business forever. Why? I can't figure it out. Perhaps the sages have an answer. However, the sages were correct and my own extension of those prognostications proved to be even more painfully accurate. The handmaiden has proven to be who she really is. She operates under the guise of lies and deceit. There is actually a more eerie coincidence about today, if you want to call it that.
I held one of my classes in Murphy's today since I needed to be sedated. I believe that I have really crossed the line of sanity. We had a good time and I had a chance to get to know my students much better. Later, I ended up at Mango's. One of my former students was in there. "Are you okay?" he asked. "No. I'm not," I said. The time has come for me to make the decision.
Friday June 18
It is the end of an eerie time. I can't say that this truly is the end, but I can do my best to make it so. I have done all I could that was humanly possible to salvage what I could. Obviously, that was not meant to be. I feel so inadequate because I was not blessed with material wealth. I am inferior, I was told. I was made to feel less than a man. A boy. Living with moms. This from a someone who is no prize herself. It has made me bitter and cynical. It has made me insecure. It has made me doubt whether I could measure up ever again. I have lost everything including my integrity and my journal. Now, I have to pick up the pieces and start over again. As Paul (in Minnesota) said, "Time heals all wounds and time wounds all heels." I won't be waiting with baited breath but I'm confident that the handmaiden will pay for her misdeeds. It will take me a while to recover from all of this. I constantly pray for the strength to do so. The fire water is still a problem and now I must consider psychological services to deal with my inability to sense reality. I'm just waiting for a new day.
Sunday June 20
The fire water is now a bigger problem than I thought. I've lost my self-control. Even when Paul (Chaminade student) and I went out last night, we ended up doing some fire water consumption. He, too, has been going through some bereavement over a babe. I can tell that he is having some difficulty with it. Paul's strategy is to keep himself busy as best as possible. It has only moderately worked for him. I know how he feels. It's hard to keep one's mind off of the problem. I review my situation all the time and I have to constantly pray to my Creator for the strength to keep from losing it.
We discussed a variety of options including fleeing (i.e., relocating). Paul will have a reprieve at the end of Summer because he is going back to the mainland for a week. I don't have that luxury. Another option is to find a new babe. We kind of joked about that because it's a lot harder than it seems. The loneliness is what is the most unforgiving aspect of a breakup. I assume that is why babes go out and find another warm body immediately. The process precludes most guys from doing the same. I am not exactly sure what I'm going to do at this point in time. I feel claustrophobic again and I have been having anxiety attacks. I essentially feel worthless. Many of you know what has happened but it is much more difficult to actually visualize the torment I went through in the last eight months. It was a calculated torture. I am not certain that the healing process can be initiated here in Hawai'i. So, I have to bide my time and hope I have enough stamina to tough it out until I, too, can flee.
Monday June 21
I had no desire for the fire water today but I ended up at Mango's anyway. I think the whole situation is coming to a close. I am finally coming to grips with what I now know as a non-existent past. It was an elaborate ruse with me playing the role of the fool. The sages were correct (I still believe the sages). The handmaiden attempted to turn the tables again. It just won't work. I'm too tired to play. I just want to make it through the Summer and hope that the turning point comes shortly afterward. I need to forget already. There is no way to prove anything to a self-righteous individual. It is my healing time. It is my future.
Tuesday June 22
Cherie, Chandamei, and I had a "power lunch" today at Murphy's. I enjoy hanging out with them. We may end up at the Taste of Honolulu this weekend. I really didn't have a desire for the fire water today. However, I ended up at Mango's again this afternoon. I had a lively discussion with Pete, the bartender. Actually, I really like Mango's. I'm going to try to taper my fire water consumption again. I'm slowly beginning to face the situation. I also finally received some referrals for counselors. I will look into this matter this week. I still believe that I have a lot to sort out since my discovery that the last three years of my life has been an elaborate ruse.
Wednesday June 23
Very bad news. The handmaiden had lured another sucker into her lair. She will not be moving. This can only happen to a true loser like me. The sinister kahuna, the handmaiden's boss, is pushing my sanity to the limit. I have not been able to get a counseling appointment yet. It has been one week since I initiated the process. The "journal of the mind" forum continues. Mango's mania continues. GrooveTech rocks me through the night. Well, hey! I have no babe!
Thursday June 24
More troubles in Paradise. The sinister kahuna has dropped the big one on me. The handmaiden must have called its wrath upon me. Lunch with Chandamei and Cherie again. I know a few babes these days but they are students of mine. It's better than knowing no babes. My time here is running out. Mango's and GrooveTech are my calling.
Friday June 25
I'm about ready to break into my soothsayer mode again. It's probably the onset of psychosis. My comments of late have been a little terse. The trouble is that my mind is ready to snap. Maybe I should take up surfing as Pete, the bartender at Mango's, suggested. I need something else to do other than going to the gym. Well, if I move to the Siberia of the Western world, I may just take up snowboarding as a second life. What else could I do there except drink coffee and go berserk? I'm invisible to babes so that's a moot point.
My only big concern is moms. As I see it, I'm not really doing her any favors at this point in time. I just have to make adequate preparations and insure that I maintain regular contact with moms. I have already discarded or donated all the stuff that I don't need so I'm ready to go. As I am certain that the handmaiden will never check the journal again, I will begin to consolidate material. The [UJ] archives must be concluded once and for all. As I see it, that can only happen if I move away. I hate to say it but my premonition tells me that there is going to be a lot more scandalous information coming out soon.
To be continued ... Go to R.4
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