Undeniable Sense Of Dread

I have an older brother. He's 52.

My brother is my cross to bear in life. He is the one who from time to time, winds up homeless, stranded on the west coast in need of planefare, or stricken with some ghastly disease and fearing for his life. Every now and then, my brother turns to me because he has no where else to turn. He's the guy who got jumped one night a few years ago, and ended up losing an eye as a result.

Anyway, my brother has had absolutely no luck in life. Partly his fault, partly not. Neither here nor there. In an indirect way, he was a victim of 9-11. He had finally found a decent paying job with benefits, working for Delta Airlines. He got himself an affordable apartment in a Boston suburb, and was working toward some sort of retirement. Then Nine-Eleven happened, and Delta has been just barely avoiding bankruptcy ever since. End result? He lost his job. (What else is new? The poor guy has absolutely no luck.)

As the months have gone by, he has been unable to find another job. So, for some strange reason, he decided to try relocating to San Diego.

I brought him to the airport this morning. He left with one suitcase, and one carryon. He's staying with a friend, who's given him 8 weeks to find a job and a place to live. All well and good.

But, as I hugged him goodbye at the airport this morning, I was overcome with this horrible, terrible, undeniable sense that I will never see him alive again.

Right now, I feel so horribly sad.

Just Slap Me In The Head... Go On, I Deserve It!

Ever hear the story about the kid who touches the hot stove? If he's bright, he doesn't touch it a second time. If he's a slow learner, he'll probably touch it several more times before it sinks in that it fucking hurts!

Well, call me a slow learner.

I swear, I swear, I swear ..... I know better, and yet....

Over and over again, I keep making the same mistake, and suffering the same freakin' outcome. Einstein said, "The definition of insanity is repeating the same action, and expecting different results."

You would think that when the dickhead comes around, I'd hold a crucifix up to his face, watch his flesh burn from it, and then run like the wind in the opposite direction. Right? ................. Wrong!

No. Instead, I listen to his lies, half believe them, raise my hopes and expectations, only to be time and time again, let crashing down to the ground in a pathetic heap of fury, despair, and anguish.

I wish I could understand why I cannot hate this man. The heavens above know that if anybody deserves my hatred, it's him.

Intellectually I know that when he speaks, he actually believes he's telling the truth, and yet it's all lies. He's a text book pathological liar. He believes his own trash talk. It's so fucking maddening.

And what's even more maddening is, when he comes around with his apologies and sweet talking, I fall for it. What the hell is wrong with me? I mean, HOW MANY TIMES MUST I GET BURNED before I leave the fucking stove alone?

Men have come and gone in the past few months. Some were very handsome, some were very nice, some were very dependable, some were very taken with me. And each one of them I found fault with. Each one of them I tossed aside for the slightest of things. With the exception of a very few, none pressured me for sex; and none came close to tempting me either.

So what's wrong with me? In the old days, a guy like Dickhead would have been so far lost in my history tracks, he wouldn't even be a bad memory.

I want to hate him. I swear I do. I want to parade a long line of very hot men; handsome, well built, virile men under his nose. I want to make him feel everything he's made me feel... TIMES TEN. I want to look him in the eye and tell him that he's a fat, selfish, lying, cheating, impotent waste of my time, and that I can't even remember what I ever saw in him.

I want to tell him that his nasty, dumpy eyesore of a wife is the best he'll ever hope to have, and that I hope he's stuck living with her scowling, snarling face for the next 50 years... and when they're dead, I hope they're laid face to face, so he'll have to put up with that gorilla mug for all eternity.

I'm going to pray for strength. Strength to allow myself to be free of this sentence of misery he's handed me.

I want to hate that fucker. I really do.

Good For You Taylor Hicks!

He was my boy right from his first audition. I knew he had the stuff to win. I'll buy his first album.

Let's hear it for the Soul Patrol!

Soul Patrol

I have said all along; since before the final 12, that Taylor was my pick for this year's Idol.

There's those of you out there... teeny boppers, who wanted Chris Daughtry to win because he sings rocked out songs, because he's got that shaved head, bad-boy beard thing going on. My opinion has always been that he doesn't have mass appeal. Nor does he have the raw vocal talent that Taylor has.

I had a soft spot for Elliot too, and I think he'll go far, but Taylor should be this year's crowned victor.

If Katherine McPhee wins this thing, it will prove beyond any question that the contest is not decided by talent. Period.

I have my fingers crossed that the Soul Patrol did their duty and called those numbers to give our boy the win!

I Second That

I forgot where I read this, and if it was you I'm sorry for not crediting you. Leave a comment, and I'll give you your props.

Somewhere in blogland I read the following:

"Women own two types of shoes: Fuck me shoes, and Fuck you shoes."

May I just say, Bravissimo!

As the proud owner of somewhere in the vacinity of 70 or so pairs, I agree wholeheartedly.

Robert Update

Yeah so... I'm off my cloud, and Robert is dust.

It's like this; When the time comes that I want detatched, unemotional, strictly physical sex, I'll have it. Not before, and not because some hot looking guy just wants to get laid.

Which brings me back to points 1, & 2.

Point 1: I don't think I'm ready to be dating. I'm very clearly emotionally unavailable, and I resent being looked at like a petite filet mignon. And that's how I feel I'm being looked at lately. (Maybe it's just me being overly sensitive, I don't know. But I do know that perception is reality.)

Point 2: Then there's H. *sigh*

Poor Vito

Beat to death beyond recognition, and fucked up the ass with a pool cue.

Life (and death) in the mob!

I gotta say...... I knew he was a dead man.

Cloud Nine

Last night I met Robert. He called 15 minutes into American Idol (bad timing!) and wanted to meet. I told him I could go out at 9pm. He was ok with that. So he chose the Dunkin' Donuts here in town, which was nice... less travel for me.

I got there before him, which is my M.O. and waited only about 5 minutes. Then I saw a newish Chevy pickup truck pull into the parking lot. I peeked through the window of DD to get a glimpse of him (because photos lie.) What I saw made me smile.

He was a tall, muscular, dark haired, dark complected handsome man, dressed very casually. He strode with confidence, and had the most amazing smile, with straight, white teeth.

When he walked in, I caught him sizing me up (they all do that... men are so shallow!) He stuck out his hand, so I stuck mine out, and he pulled me close and gave me a hug. Nice.

We got ourselves cups of coffee, and sat down.

For the next two and half hours we sat there and talked, and laughed, and talked, and laughed some more. I don't know where the time went, but when I noticed the clock on the wall, it was 11:30 and I was shocked to see how much time had slipped by unnoticed.

I liked this one. I mean.... I really liked him.

Outside, I kissed him gently on the lips. Which, by the way, are the softest lips I've ever kissed. He asked me if I wanted to see him again, and I said... "Of course." He laughed, and said "Good. Me too."

I drove home (all of 5 minutes away) on Cloud 9.

Hard to believe... me.... Sybil The Jaded.... floated home on Cloud Nine.

I Ran Across Him...

It was completely by accident.

At 10:15 last night, my cellphone rang. It was a friend of mine telling me she was at this godawful place in Tiverton. "Sybil... don't sit home. Meet me here." So, I threw on a hat, and a pair of shoes, and out the door I went.

And trust me, this place is truly a dump. But, I figured company is good regardless the surroundings.

So I went.

I'm sitting there, and through the door walks.... (Stellina, you'll remember this name!) Hack. Yep... there he was in living color. The H-Man. He was with a group of people. I couldn't tell if he was on a double date or what. There were 3 guys, and 3 girls. (May I say here and now, the girls were fugly? Ok, I said it.)

So, he walks right by me. Doesn't notice me.

A few minutes later, he goes outside for a smoke, and I see him looking at me through the window. He's motioning for me to come outside with his index finger.

He give me a big smile, and a hug. He says, "How long have you been sitting there?"
I said, "You walked right by me!"

Anyway, we stood there making small talk for a little while. I asked him if he was on a date, and he said no... just a bunch of friends who hang out once in a while. He asked me if I had a new boyfriend. I said I didn't.

At one point, he seemed as if he was going to give me a kiss, but he didn't. Maybe because I didn't send a signal for him to. I don't know.

Anyway.... let me say... He looked GOOD.
I had forgotten how attractive I find him.

So, he went back to his friends, and I to mine. And I've been thinking about him all day.

Shit!

Damien

Was certifiably nuts.

Tomorrow....... Robert.

*sigh*

What Do You Think..... ?

Of a match between these two names:

Sybil & Damien

Could be interesting. We're having dinner tonight.
I'll let you know!

American Idol Surprise!

Well, I have said right from the begining that Chris is not original enough to be the American Idol winner. He has a great voice, but no originality.

That said, I am shocked that he was voted off tonight, and McPhee wasn't.

Based strictly on their performances last night, McPhee should be going home, not Chris.

Leads me to think that more males voted than females.

I have said right from the begining that Taylor should be this year's winner. I'm still pulling for him, but I have to say that Elliot has come a long, LONG way.

So, I'm going out on a limb and saying next week will be McPhee's last week on the show.

Sybil Is A Trainwreck!

Lemme tell ya... I feel like I got hit by a train...TWICE!

I had the weekend that never ended. (None of it had to do with romance though)

On Friday night I went out to one of my usual spots, and was stalked by Dickhead. So I left there, drove like a bat out of hell so I could lose the dope, and when I did, I came home; parked my car in the driveway, went in the house and turned on the TV, and a living room light. After that was all taken care of, I went outside and
did a MacGyver stunt... (remember the 80's? WWMGD? What would MacGyver do?) I did the Navy Seal Commando stealth maneuver all around my house and neighborhood, making sure nobody was hiding and stalking. When I was sure I wasn't being watched, I walked (well... jogged) to the bar down the street from my house. Once inside, I proceeded to have a rip-roaring time because I knew I wouldn't be found.

Saturday night, I went to my usual hangout on the Island. Met up with a bunch of friends who kept the beer comming ... much too much beer, in fact. A good time was had by all.

Sunday, I awoke with a head the size of Asia, but I had to take my car to the carwash place and empty out the weeks of trash that had accumulated in it so that I could make room for my DJ gear. Once I had the car cleaned out and vacuumed, I came home and loaded up all the gear. At about 11am, I left and went to the casino (because I had about an hour to kill.) I made $400.00, then left there to head to the next town over to play a 50th birthday party gig. At the party was the entire family of this friend of mine. Let me say, her family are MAJOR party animals. Once again, the beer was not flowing, but POURING my way.

I was supposed to play from 2-6, but as is usually the case, the party was just getting started at 6 and they begged me to stay longer, so I ended up playing until 7:30.

After that, we got all my gear all loaded up again and went back to the Island to this very cool irish bar for a night of karaoke with my friends entire (very inebriated) family. And yet again, the beer was never ending.

I have never in my life drank for so long that I was sober by the end of the night, but yesterday that's exactly what happened. By midnight, I had drank myself sober. Go Figure!

At 1am, I left the Island, drove the 35 minutes home, and proceeded to unload the DJ gear from my car.

At 2am, I was drinking a cup of coffee, eating Excedrin like M&M's, and wishing I could still keep up with the big dogs.

At 5:45am this morning, my phone was ringing. It was Dickhead. I promptly ignored the calls.

At 6:00am this morning, my doorbell was ringing. It was Dickhead. I went to the door, and growled something like... "I'm trying to sleep. Fuck Off." I closed the door, and shut off ALL the phones.

At 1pm today, I was in a meeting; not able to focus on a single thing, and being of completely NO value to anybody.

At 3pm today, I was at the casino winning a ton of money.

At 7pm tonight, I was leaving the casino with empty pockets. Easy come, easy go.

And right now at 7:50pm, I am heading to the couch, hitting OnDemand, and watching last night's Soprano's episode.

I suspect by approximately 10pm I will be in a complete coma.

Seeyas

Coo Coo Kachoo Mrs Robinson

Call me Mrs Robinson.

I'm seriously considering a fling with a handsome young thing.

More to follow as the unscrupulous details unfold.

Suffice to say, this is the first time I'm feeling that feeling!

I Wonder.....

I always wanted to do New Orleans in a big touristy way. I've been there a few times, but always on business, and never had enough time to look under rocks and peek around corners.

I wonder if Katrina left Marie's grave unmarred?

I mean, think about it... the way bodies are buried there, like 4 deep and very close to the surface? I wonder how many decrepit corpses floated down the bayou after Katrina.

I am fascinated with Voodoo. Fascinated with the mystique of Marie Laveau. Fascinated with the idea of zombies. There are learned men of science who swear they exist. Of course, they also have a multitude of scientific explanations for them, but if you ask me... anybody who can resurface after being buried alive for days, weeks, and months, and still walk the earth, defies any scientific explanation.

I regret never making the time to vacation in New Orleans, but I am resolute to get there anyway. Maybe this fall.

Today's Journal Entry

This is a duplicate of what I wrote in my paper journal:

"Know what? I haven't written anything here in a few days because every day
it's the same old shit. I'm so tired of living it, that I can't bear to
write it. When I have something new to tell, I will come back and write it.

And so it goes. Every day I wake up, make the same cup of coffee, do the same puttering, watch the same shit on TV, receive the same morning phone calls. Then I may or may not have to leave the house for work. When I do, it's a blessing. When I don't, the minutes become hours and the hours feel like days.

I guess you could say I'm in a rut. A very boring, monotonous, poke your eye out with a knitting needle rut.

Yesterday's high point was going with my friend Sandie to Oncology, waiting 90 minutes, and then being told that she doesn't need chemotherapy. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy she got good news; but the point remains, waiting in that god-awful place was about the high point of my day yesterday.

I think what bothers me most is the nagging, unrelenting feeling that I'm wasting precious days of my life... Just letting days go by that one day, I'll cry to have back.

Oooh..... Big Stuff Over Here!!

I had today off so I took my time getting ready this morning, then at about 10am I left and headed to the Harley Davidson dealer. I wanted a new pair of riding boots, but they didn't have the ones I want, so I ended up with a new jacket which I SO didn't need. But it's nice.

Then I went out for lunch with my friend Ro to a cool diner in Newport. We spent hours yacking and laughing. She showed me all her kids' houses (all beautiful homes) and then finally she brought me back to my car.

While I was in Newport, and with nothing better to do, I decided to hit the casino. Lo & Behold, I won money. A good amount of money even. 27 Ben Franklins to be exact. Not bad for an hour of entertainment.

Anyway, while I was gambling, my cell phone rang. Candace, the girl who allegedly cleans my house was calling. She says, "SYBIL!!! You're not going to believe it! The house across the street from yours is burning to the ground!"

I'm like..... "Whaaaaaaaaaaat??? Is my house in danger??? Uh, I mean, are my neighbors alright?"

She says, "Nobody's home over there. The wind is blowing the flames away from your house, but you should really get home if you can."

So, I cashed out and ran to my car. A half hour later, as I tried to pull onto my street... (forget about it! I had to park two streets away) I came walking up to my house and there was my neighbor standing there helplessly, watching her house totally engulfed in flames. What a horrifying sight. I felt for her.

The place is a total TOTAL loss. The only thing left to do is raze it and start over. I got goosebumps on top of goosebumps thinking that there but for the grace of God stood I.

I offered her something to drink, a place to stay, clothes to wear... she was so completely in shock, she just kept shaking her head. Pretty soon her husband ran up. I guess he had to park two streets away too. And that was it. They stood there sobbing in each other's arms.

And now my house stinks to high heaven of smoke and fire and fire extinguisher. But I am NOT complaining. Oh NO... Good Lord, no. I'll put up with the stink.

And thank you Lord for not picking my house to burn down, Amen.