Well, I am trying to compose a letter to C--, but it's not working as I'd hoped. I really don't know what to say to him these days. Perhaps I should simply send him the little jar of lilac sand and seashells, unaccompanied by an explanation of any sort. It's funny, I talk to him online every night, and I've never even spoken on the phone with him, but I miss him.
Sludge apparently hates me. What do I care? I mean, it's not as though she has anything to fear from me, and the bad things she heard about me are true. I really am that mean, I really am that good at making people feel like shit for no good reason. Roachboy would be insane to want me back, assuming I was interested. When I said as much to him tonight, though, he behaved as though I have a self-esteem problem. As though I don't like myself. I do, just not for the reasons most people like themselves, you know?
The most interesting thing he said was that if we were both single, there's an even chance that he'd still want to date me. After I told him what I did while we were dating. Roachboy's lost his marbles. Gone completely bonkers.
As to Sludge's feelings....that's her problem. Nothing to do with me, especially since I haven't done anything to her personally. If anything, she should thank me. After all, even Roachboy says I did good things for him. And it's not guaranteed he'll want to come up here, ever. So she can just shove it all up her butt. After all, the cactus fits up there pretty nicely.
I'm not going to talk to Roachboy so much, though. I don't like it, it makes me feel creeped out. He's always so smug about his moral superiority. Yeah, great, Roachboy. You are brilliant, you are morally superior, but you still have the charisma of bug feces. And you're still irritating.
I got a call tonight from a guy named Sedge. Has anyone ever heard of a band called Dick Army? Apparently, they have a pretty strong following. Used to, at any rate. They're breaking up. Anyway, he's 32, and a little snotty. He wanted to know how old we were (old enough to vote, fucker), wanted to know if we even had rehearsal space. When I told him that we did, he asked, "What, in someone's basement or something?" I should fucking think not. Not for $175.00 a month. Cocksucker. I think he might be a little too....worldly to work with us comfortably. If he's going to behave as though we are a bunch of rank amateurs, I'm not sure I want to work with him. Anyway, we're supposed to see about meeting up next week-end.
Getting together with Katie and Derek was irritating. Aaron called, looking for Derek, at 7:00. Derek was supposed to be at Charlie's. So, I called and asked for him, and Charlie's wife said they'd gone somewhere. I waited 15 minutes, then called Katie, to see where the Hell she was. Shopping. She and her mother had gone shopping. They were expected back at 7:30. God, I hate all these people.
I do not like it when people are late, especially when it could have been avoided simply by keeping in mind that they have obligations and organizing their schedules so that they aren't out doing something when they're supposed to be somewhere else. But I shouldn't complain. It was, after all, a free ride.
We went out for Chinese, only stayed out an hour (because Katie, for some fucked-up reason, actually sleeps at night)
One of Roachboy's demands, if he is to ever re-join the band is that I start contributing songs. Well, to prove that I can, I just wrote a song:
I dream of you
Moo Moo Moo
Sludge drudge fudge
Boo Hoo Hoo
I've got snot
Lots Lots Lots
I'm saving it for you
Now, force those lyrics to the tune of any christmas carol, and you've got a number one hit. It's a deeply emotional song about Sludge's lack of self-esteem.