la vie crapuleuse

i did my third polo player last month. actually, he did me. while i was drunk and asleep. it was good though, and i actually kind of liked him. especially since we couldn't communicate: he only spoke his native language, which i only know ten words of. all he could say in english besides yes was "no problem". awesome!

well, great. not only is my mother's boyfriend an artist, he's also highly suicidal in a very attention-seeking melodramatic way. two nights ago he placed a bunch of letters in his ex-girlfriend's (!) lawn and drove away in his pickup. naturally only to park it on some rural parking site and pop too few sleeping pills to actually die. after he didn't come home in two days, his son called the local police station posted him as missing. someone found him still alive and breathing and took him to the nearest hospital where he got his maw evacuated and afterwards refilled with drugs.

right now it seems no-one really knows where to place him, but chances are some local psychiatry will be in honour. all the while my mom is going bananas and thinking about cancelling her visiting me here and instead undertaking the exhausting trip to his country to sort things out there.

it's not like i understand what's going on whatsoever. 

what i learned at the shrink's: my difficulty to accept authorities and to find a suitable common-law spouse are appearantly strongly correlated. the pool for me to fish in (the two respective basins, tht is) is exceptionally small. i simply can't marry a cabinetmaker who was born back-country, even though he may be the nicest guy in the world. living in a hamlet, baking cakes... not my style. 

when i got home i kept on construing my lifestyle choices. maybe, i figured, i only want to enter international politics so i can once and for all work in a position that allows me to be myself in terms of frank communication. with enough commanding power at hand i will finally be able to tell people what i really think of them. no more brown-nosers who only want to bask in my light. no more incompetent grudgers who appoint themselves to judge... or more of them.

please, sanity, let me never become one of those i despise.  

i'm a terribly lazy blogger, i'm sorry. also, i don't have much time now, because i have a shrink appointment in 45 minutes. it's good i can go see him. we're sorting through all sorts of topics that are important to me. like, for example, my father. i suppose he's the root of all evil. (how original!) fortunately, therapy hasn't gotten too emotional as yet. it's still all about my performance-addiction, a very lame one to be honest, and my being in luck all the time. i'm already dreading the sex talk, especially after he once gave me a piece of advice "as semen" which basically in my first language means sperm. from the look on his face and his quick add-on of "or something like it" i suppose i must have given him a pretty weird glance. his extra-super piece of food for thought that day was: the art of dependence.

so far, i haven't gotten around that one yet.