I’m going to hell

I’m going to hell. I woke up late today from a late night and to my surprise there was a very cute woman wearing only her tattoos in my bed next to me. I recall little of last night as the haze started to clear, I sort of remember her coming home with me, and a few of the good parts. So to refresh my memory, I woke her up and we reenacted those good parts over brunch, but now I have to wash my table cloth.

She went home a little bit ago and as she stepped out my door she found a bag on my door step with several beers in it. It’s a good day. Waking up to a gorgeous young gal, then free beer, plus a date later tonight with a sexy woman who happens to be my nurse. I’m either a very lucky man or a scum bag, which ever it is, I’m happy, but I’m going to hell. I guess this is a mid life crisis, but there’s no crisis about it, I love it.

Now a little AC/DC with Bon Scott, Ride On.

Nothing other than my soul

Caroline, my nurse friend, came over tonight under the condition that I impress her with my cooking. I’m good for a guy, but after she showed up, she relieved me of my duties. It must’ve been the lingering scent of burnt meat. Oops.

After diner we watched a little of Hell’s Kitchen and I didn’t feel so bad about my cooking. Then something happened and we sort of “moved” (fell) from the couch to the floor. Now I have rug burns on my knees but no complaint in the world other than she wouldn’t stay the night. In a way, that’s a lot of guys dream, a woman who goes home afterward, but though I’m macho manly in my own ways, I can’t sleep alone. I wake up about once an hour and usually end up on the couch watching re-runs. Or sometimes I take a few pills with a few drinks and that puts me out, but not like real sleep. The only times I get good sleep is when I have a woman beside me.There doesn’t even have to be sex necessarily, just a woman who is special to me beside me.

We have a date Friday night, so hopefully she’ll stay the night this time. We have done the under cover, on the sly thing before, while both of us we’re married. That isn’t what I want, neither of us is married anymore. I want a real relationship, but I’m sort of afraid she just wants a no strings, sexual relationship like we did twice before. I want more.

So now a hairband song reversed, now I seem to be on the other end, or at least feel that way. Like I’m being used for something, and I have nothing left to take, just my soul.

Winger, Headed For A Heartbreak, I hope my macho manly intuition is wrong.

Her Eyes

I just got home from an early lunch with a friend. I asked her to stop by tonight, after she’s free from work. She knows I’m jobless, and a pill freak who likes to drink too much from time time to time, but she’s still interested. And she’s the one who authorizes my refills.

We’ve known each other for five years now, since my foot got crushed, and this our third attempt. The first two were doomed as only flings because both of us were married, not anymore.

Two guy friends have told me it’s bad to have a thing with the nurse who calls in my pain pills. She has told me it’s unethical off her to be doing this. To add to the wrongness, her oldest son is a year younger than my bass player and sometimes drinking buddy. I’m 37, sometimes 34, she’s 48, but in awesome shape and has these eyes that make me weak when I look deeply enough. It may not be manly of me, but I truly get weak in the knees in her eyes.

Now a very non macho manly song, Belinda Carlisle, I Get Weak.

Breakfast Club Of The Dead

I just got finished running through a revamped version of the guitar solo on a 15 year old song of mine, Breakfast Club Of The Dead. For those of you who have seen the 80’s movie Breakfast Club, just imagine that as a sort of purgatory for suicide victims and you can get a feel for the concept behind the song. I’m reworking the lyrics a little bit too, but will post them soon, and if I ever get around to buying the necessary adapter to put my music on the computer, then I’ll start putting my music up as well.

Elsewhere in my world, Amber made a reconciliation attempt earlier, but I stayed strong in my resolve. Her influence is bad for me, as beautiful as she is, and as sweet as she can be at times, she pulls me to the wrong path and then eventually it blows up, and I’m tired of arguing and hurting.

Enough of that, now a song by Simple Minds, from the previously mention movie, The Breakfast Club, the song, Don’t You Forget About Me.

“I Remember You”

I can’t remember my new neighbor’s name. I sometimes can’t keep track of what day it is. But I remember the first song I ever wrote when I was 11, the name of every girl I kissed as a boy and almost every woman now, except for a few that are shrouded in a drug and alcohol fog.

What brings this to mind is a dream I woke from about an hour ago. My ex wife, a dangerous little cutie who was my home wrecking partner in Stillwell Oklahoma, and my first love were all three in it. They all look strikingly alike, except my ex wife is far older than the other two, but physically holds her age quite well. And oddly enough two have the same birthday, October 27, but different years. The Oklahoma gal was also born in October as well, but a Libra, not a Scorpio like the other two.

At times, it was kind of creepy when I first got together with my ex wife because while being intimate I would really see the similarities to my high school sweetie and it freaked me out. That was sort of the jest of the dream. The three of them and I couldn’t tell which was which. From there it gets a wee bit weird, as dreams sometimes do. I won’t go into it, but it was strange enough to wake me.

The point of this is that I find it odd how I can forget so many things but have a perfect memory and  mirror play back of the tiniest things and details from long ago. One thing the dream has taught me, I need another Scorpio again. I just ended it with a Cancer, another water sign but I need another Scorpio, like myself. But hopefully not one who looks like anyone else I’ve ever had a thing with.

I’ve rattled long enough with this lame ass post, so now a song as I drink myself back to sleep. Hopefully a poem will come tomorrow, for now though, I Remember You,  by Skid Row.

Self determination of nations.

It’s time to inject a wee bit of politics and freedom fighters into this  little blog. I won’t say all that much, because if I start I won’t shut up, so I’ll let this little Irish anthem say it all. It ain’t over, Up the RA. Continuity and Real.

Rear View Mirror

It was neither clean, nor pretty, but it’s done. At least it was over the phone and that made it a great deal easier, but I won’t be surprised by an unannounced visit from her tonight or tomorrow. That’s what she’s done in the past when I’ve tried to end it. But this time it’s for real and it’s done.

Now some Pearl Jam to start the drinking with, I’m still out of pills and can’t get a refill until Monday, but a “supplemental” supply will make their way to me in the early afternoon tomorrow.

Now that song as I enjoy the feeling of being truly unattached.

“Heaven Sent”

I didn’t allow myself to let the alcohol take over tonight and I called Amber and told her I wasn’t feeling good and was just going to bed. A lie, but it bought me some time, ’till tomorrow. She called a few minutes ago to tell me good night as she went to bed. I pulled out a groggy half asleep voice and played as though she woke me from my sleep. Sometimes it’s good to let the inner thespian take over for a few moments. It’s much easier to look at it like that than just admitting to yourself you just lied to a woman who has been a major part of your life. About a year now, off and on, mostly on.

So much has been turned upside down and uprooted in this last year and she was her with me through it all. And is willing to stick with me. If we could just slip away from the damaging and dangerous drama, plus both of our families, we’d be alright I think. But we both tend to lean toward the dramatic and I have a tendencies to be a “shit magnet”. If there is an F-ed up situation within ten miles, somehow I seem to be peripherally involved. It makes for good conversation and good material to draw on for writing projects, but other than that, it is starting to suck.

Anyway, back to my current dilemma. What to do about Amber? I love her, she can be very fun, we can talk for hours on end, and physically, we are extremely compatible. But when she gets pissed, it’s not so pretty. She knows how to rip my heart out with a word and she’s overly possessive of me. And when she does on of her flips, I just step further away from her, to the point now that I’m lying to avoid her tonight. Something big has to happen or I can’t do it anymore.

Now, one of the many tunes I listening to tonight (technically early morning) HeavenSent, by Dokken.

Burn

Though I truly long for her touch and the taste of her kiss and the ecstasy of our bodies merging as one, I have decided it’s best to just stay away this time. I haven’t seen her in a little more than a week and it has to stay that way. We’ve talked a fair amount on the phone and we’re supposed to get together late, late tonight once she through selling her labor to the evil capitalist machine.

I’m not too sure how I’m going to go about it. My track record with her is that I cave and make it harder to end. I’ve been trying to end off and on for three months now, but it all flies out the window when I see her. She is honestly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known and well, she has the body to go with it. And she knows how to use that body and those eyes to make me give in every time so far.

So how am I going to solve this dilemma? Start drinking a little early, I’d add in some pain pills but I’m out. The vodka and Budweiser will work though and when I see her  late tonight, I probably won’t be able to get past that sexy lure she has and maybe I won’t regret it in the morning.

For now, here’s a song by The Cure, Burn, from The Crow.

“Save A Prayer”

I reluctantly agreed to go back to Shitsville Oklahoma for another week tomorrow. Amber is mad at me for it, but she’s still coming over after she’s out of  her shit hole convenient store job and a change of cloths.

So tonight I have to breathe in enough of the scent of her gorgeous red hair, and savor enough of the taste of her body to last me a week. I’ve  sworn her off so many times, but I just can’t resist, and she’s honest and faithful and a size 2 and absolutely beautiful, plus ten years younger than me, which works quite well with my whole Peter Pan personality.

My family has quite the distaste for her. One because of the lifestyle the two of us live and two for the militant Irish leftist politics of her father. He almost talked us into moving to Belfast a few months back.

Anyway, she should be here any minute so time for a song of love. Duran Duran, Save A Prayer.