3.22.97

Writing more than usual here lately. Sorry.

I woke up to darkness and disorientation. Literally. Sat straight up in bed and my first thought was, "Oh god, it's night." I had no idea what was happening, where I was, what time it was of what day. Over my shoulder I saw the clock read 7:15, and I nearly panicked, not sure if that was day or night, if that meant I was late for work or if I was supposed to work at all. Slowly, reality recompensed. Yes, it's Saturday night, Warren, yes you do have to work, no, you are not late. I spent several minutes convincing myself that all these were actual facts.
All I could remember was a two small parts of some dream -- one where Rollins threw up 6 white socks, and the other where Margaret showed up at my bar, in the middle of some other dream I forgot, and asked if I knew how to make a "Piss In A Gutter." I told her I'd never heard of that drink, but what a cool name I thought it was.

About two minutes after I was beginning to accept reality the phone rang and it was Kerrie. --It's like a psychic connection, I say. --What do you mean? she asks. --This is the eighth time I've suddenly woken up from some twisted 12 hour plus crash session mere moments before you call.

So up, shower, dress, kiss the dog -- who was patiently sitting next to the bed and staring at me as I woke -- and tear out to work. I'm having a less annoying night than last, and I'm thinking about Margaret and the "Piss in a Gutter" drink . In the back of my head, I realize that Adam's father was not in the bar last night which may mean that he has their child for the weekend. I'm thinking that this may have been the subconscious trigger for that moment of my dream. Of course, even if he did have Adam, Margaret hasn't been to my bar in about six months -- even when we were dating. And, of course, at about 11 o'clock, Margaret walks in.

I think about creating a drink called "Piss In A Gutter". Not that she would understand what that's all about.

Kerrie's son David and Margaret's son Adam have met. Adam beat David up. This was before I knew any of the four. Somehow, after breakfast at Anchors, I'm at Margaret's place lying on the bed with her and Adam, and the kid's pinching my nose and I'm threatening his with "dog kisses." When Margaret says that "It's strange to have you here again," I cannot relate. It feels perfectly normal. Then again, it was me who chose months ago to give this environment up in favor of the company of Shannon, and I suddenly understand that Margaret felt the loss more than I. I am just now understanding that I may have the power to hurt her. I'm briefly blinded with this revelation.

Margaret has been offered a job with a traveling freak-show-kind-of circus. She is excited. When she was four, her own mother ran away and joined the circus, and Margaret, being her mother's daughter as much as Adam is his mother's son, is anxious to follow suit. She has a few months to learn how to eat glass and walk on burning cinders.
Mostly, she wants to learn escapism. (The irony eludes her). She wants to be naked, bound in chains on stage and capable of wriggling herself out. I know she will learn it. I know she will be good at it. I also know that in those moments just before I left tonight if she had given me the slightest proposition I'd have leapt on her. What I spent the last several hours with was the Margaret I'd always wanted to know and love.

She didn't, and I didn't. In fact, as we sat there playing with her son she stopped jerkily and said -- Was that a bird? I listened closely to the metallic squeak she was talking about. --Yup, that's a bird, I said. --Get out! Morning! We laughed and I hugged the woman and her beautiful auburn body, waved at the baby and left.

I'm one confused little son of a bitch. Aren't we all, though...?

Kerrie is coming to visit this Friday. I'm debating between two plans.
One, I could call Margaret when I wake up and invite her to join me at this barbecue I'm supposed to go to this afternoon (um, about 6 hrs from now, screw sleep), and two, calling Kerrie and heading up to Logan to spend time with her and maybe getting to know that little force named David. I think I'm ready for that. I think, with more than a tad of guilt, that part of the reason I was feeling unusually comfortable with Adam tonight was that I was preparing myself for Kerrie's ultimate test. Maybe I need to see Kerrie sooner than Friday, I'm thinking. Maybe I need to test myself.

Kerrie told me the last time we talked that she lived on the streets between the age of 16 and 18. It explains her strength. This is mostly why she got married at 18, as well. She was pregnant, the father wanted to marry her and so it happened.
Obviously, it didn't last . That x, who was living somewhere in the Pacific northwest showed up at my bar last night. I know him from before. He does not know I am seeing Kerrie. He called her today and she spilled the beans about that. I loved his reaction as she told it. --Warren?.. You mean, Warren, Warren?.. From the bar?? Turns out he's moved back here until the end of summer, and just before the bar closed tonight his head pops in and he smiled, saying nothing. --Hey Brian, I said. He laughed and said --Hey Warren, just saying hi and,, uh... bye!... Then he left. I chuckled. I was expecting a confrontation, knowing this musclehead. When I heard from Kerrie's best friend Tara that they once screamed at each other for 6 hours, my reply was --He knows enough words to talk for that long?

Anyway. I guess this post/entry is more for myself than the edification of others. I apologize for that. There is more going on in my life than this relationship shit, it just seems to be what I babble about here. Sorry for subjecting ya all to it,

wwood ... 90210