mat7thew

six flags...so there was a buffet (this was a work field trip) for lunch...shoved in the back of the park...boiled hotdogs, faux chicken fingers, and bar-b-que pork. i had water and paid eight dollars for a salad later on.

i like the corkscrews and the loops.

jerry...we're co-authoring a book...well, i'm ghost writing his auto...especially since he has severe glacoma (sp!) and heart worms.

this has sent me to the bottle late at nite...especially when i see him walk into things.

(this is a secret, but sometimes i wish i had someone to talk to about jerry getting old and how this is tearing my fucking heart from my chest...but then i remind mine self that sympathy is for the weak and that i'm not a fucking pussy.)

(and then i yell at mine self and tell me that being stone cold is what drove her and the others away and that i'm damn lucky jerry can see past that side of me.)

(and then i'm reminded that if jerry had bailed years ago that i wouldn't have these emotions of weakness. and then it's quickly pointed out that the heart ache i feel now is completely mine own fault for promising to a fucking dog that i'll make sure he's got it made for as long as he's alive.)

(a fucking dog, i say to reiterate (sp!) the point.)

damnit.




i hate these internal monologues (sp!) and my sometimes lack of editorial control.

but i hate that my dog is getting old most of all. :down: