That cat that no one wanted, or no one could keep, has found a home.

Yup, that's right. In spite of my reservations to do so, I'm keeping the cat. And from henceforth his name is no longer that of Gizmo (I suggested that name as a joke, I never actually expected it to stick..) Instead, he shall now be known as.. Charlie.

I kind of scared myself last night when I realized that, as indoor cats live roughly 15 years, this commitment is basically saying I am going to be living with Charlie till I'm 38 years old. Give or take, and assuming neither of us encounter any freak accidents (or get lung cancer). I'll more than likely have a family by that point. That's frightening. Very frightening. It also scared me because I get very attached to my pets and after 2 years with Lola her death really hurt. That was only 2 years. Dealing with the loss of a cat, after a 15 year relationship, is going to be brutal. But having him here now is worth that, I think.

Welcome to the family Charlie.





In essence, the only reason I'm keeping the cat is because Sarah went back on the agreement and did not take him in. And I've been living with this cat for 3 weeks now and did not want to see him simply sent off to a shelter to be given to god knows who. So, yeah, okay - I grew attached to him. My mom was, thankfully, understanding of the situation and gave her blessing. My apartment building has a ridiculous non-refundable pet fee of $300 for cats. I have this place till July and it's simply unfeasible to pay a $300 fee to keep him around till then. So, basically, he's in hiding now till I move out and into a new place which will, hopefully, not have that policy.

Anyhow, it was another uneventful but still spectacular weekend. Basically, as usual, Kate and I just bummed around my apartment. We made breakfast, which turned into dinner, on Sunday and it was nice. Watching her in my kitchen in her underwear and a t-shirt in front of the stove just made me very happy. No, it wasn't the "woman cooking" that I liked, it was the familiarity and the intimacy. There's no pretense anymore. That's hard to reach but once you get there it's amazing. Talking about anything, all the embarassing shit. The things you did that you regret and that you know telling eachother will hurt eachother, but you want them to know everything about you. And even though it hurts, it doesn't last.

My mom and grandmother came up saturday afternoon and we went to The Berghoff. The Berghoff is a pretty famous Chicago restaurant that's been around for 107 years, and this is their final month of operation. So, it's a Chicago icon on the way out. The end of an era. I was never particularly a big "fan" of the food there (it's of the German variety) but still I have a nostalgic and sentimental attachment to the place. Furthermore, just the idea of something that's been around for 107 years coming to an end is sad.

I haven't forgotten about my Happy Post promise ;)

Lola's dead.

And it sucks. And it hurts more than it should, but I don't fucking care. I see the empty space where her cage was only a day ago and I just feel some weird, vague, loss and loneliness. I feel like a pussy for caring this much. But at the moment I feel too defiant to care.

Maybe it's because I haven't slept in a hundred years and it's catching up to me every day and I can feel it. Maybe it's because time's running out and I know I won't be able to do the things I want to do. I wanted to put Lola in her ball one last time and let her run around my apartment like she used to, but I was afraid to because I have this cat here. I was waiting to do that when he was gone. But he hasn't left, and it's too late to do that. It's too late to do a sequel to Aristotle. It's too late to go back and make my college experience worth experiencing.

This week has just been a series of minor tragedies and a constant feeling of helplessness. Pat's insane intent to meet God has lead him to the military. A self-destructive impulse that is going to lead a bullet to his head, or his leg. Or a court martial. Pat leaves in 3 days. He invited me to his goodbye party, telling me it would "mean a lot" to him. In spite of my true wishes to be there for him, I cannot help how completely and entirely disapproving I am of his decision and of him as who he is today. I can't pretend anymore. So I didn't go. There was no reason for me to be there. Friends are supposed to be there to support eachother no matter if they agree with them or not. However, I don't believe Pat and I have been friends for some time. We've just clung to the fragments of what was once a friendship. It was a good friendship, but now he's walked down the same path as Alex. It leads to a different place this time, but once again in the end I'm left confused and angry and hurt.

Sarah's misplaced love has severed what should have, and could have, been a good friendship. It seems that my naivete has proven me wrong once again. I wanted to believe ex's could be friends. That 2 years of an intense relationship did not need to end in pain and hurt. That there was some form of relationship after that. But I'm an idiot. It's not possible, so don't fool yourself into thinking it is.

Stu's persuit of happiness has left his friends in limbo, waiting on the sidelines for some beacon that he, in whatever way, still remembers us and the fun we used to have together. Of course, it's entirely possible he doesn't think of it that way. Maybe it was never really fun to him. Rather it was merely a mode to pass the time before this girl came along and could take him away from the banality of life in a way that we could not.

Lola's death is merely the final punctuation. The period on the sentance, "Know better."

So I'm left with Kate, who is doing her very best to make me happy again and pick up the pieces of this week.

This morning I remembered before things become so complicated this year. When Pat Schie and Stu would come over on Tuesday and drink 40's and watch movies. Now that's gone, and I have Kate instead. And I wondered to myself if it was a worthy trade. If the sacrifice of friends and those relationships are worth the one I have with her. Then I looked at her on my bed, peacefully asleep, and I realized how stupid I am. Us, her and me... yeah, it's worth it. It's worth much more. The love, and support, and inspiration, and admiration I feel from her and towards her. To have someone so high above me that somehow felt I was good enough to be with her. That's worth it.

But I'm selfish. I want it all.

Later, I'm going to make another post. That one will not be about how tired, or fucked up, or how much I wish I was fucked up right now, or how much anything hurts, how how scared I am about anything. No, it'll be about how happy I am, and how excited, and optimisitc and whole I feel. My sick fascination with the duality of sad/happy peeks out again, I guess.

Perhaps this shouldn't really be a dilemma, but I'm finding that it is one. I don't really know how to react to it.

I just got a voicemail from Pat P. in which he informed me that his shipping date has been moved up to next week. He remains a civillian for one week exactly. He's having a party on Friday and "it would mean a lot" to him if I went to it.

I feel bad for this - but I am actually debating if I should go or not. On one hand, the prospect of Pat getting killed, maimed, or whatever in the course of his military career, and knowing that I never said goodbye and goodluck to him is scary. But on the other hand, as I said before, this isn't the Pat I used to know. This isn't my "friend" anymore. This is a different person, and... goddamn.. I don't know what I feel about that. I'm afraid that if I did go it would only make me more resentful or more angry, or depressed, about this entire situation.

I'm so tired, and I feel sick. I just want to go to sleep.

I've barely done anything and still I want to take a break. I just feel very lost right now with my friends. Kanzen Radio is dead again, it seems, because of Stu's new infatuation. Although, to be fair, my own infatuation contributed in a way as well. There's been nights I've been relieved Stu's cancelled on me because I wanted to stay with Kate, and not do a radio show. Still, I would have done it. There's something else going on with Stu, and I don't like it. I guess I just feel like in spite of my hopes that he and I would become closer friends, in the end we're drifting further apart. It's been almost 3 weeks since we actually hung out as friends. I've seen him since then, yes, but the discussion has been limited to small talk at best. Small talk singed at the edges with mild antagonism. A pinch of a sneer.


Happy Valentine's.

You know what sucks? Being dumb, and knowing you're being dumb, but being unable to stop being dumb. That's fucking dumb.

Why can I never fall asleep at dusk?
Why do I need to see everything crushed?



I'm trying to fall asleep.
I'm trying to be careful.

Why do I feel like I'm failing?

As much as I complain about him, I can tell I am going to miss Gizmo.

Especially the way he crawls into my lap when I'm on the computer and intensely watches the mouse cursor move around.

I am not, however, going to miss the clawings and teeth imbedded in my foot.