Tuesday, August 03, 2004

52. Dick

You may notice that I'm writing today's entry a little later in the day than usual.



I went into the office on Monday, afraid somebody was gonna ask where I'd been since last Tuesday or why my face and arms were now covered with bruises. Instead, I found a note on my computer telling me to see Doris in HR.

She gave me two hours to say my goodbyes and clear out. No questions asked.

I'll have plenty to talk about with Dr. T tomorrow. Like, for starters, why I didn't show up at his office last week, either. Naturally I won't be able to tell him a word of what really happened, and I have about 24 hours to come up with a logical explanation.

Then maybe I can use it for Peter, Janice, and everybody else who's been calling and e-mailing me for days, wondering where I was.

I'm so pissed off right now I could scream.

And yet...

Every time I think back on what I went through last week--the torture, the deathtraps, and everything else--I have to admit that on some level it was all pretty exciting. ("Exciting" as in major fucking hard-on, for one thing. But let's not go there for the time being.) During the time it was happening it was a goddam nightmare, but then I stop and ask myself if there's anything else I could have done with those days that would have been anywhere near as powerful.

The simple answer is no. But life has never seemed less simple than it does now.

I could use a serious break from everything that's been going on lately. And since I no longer have a job to go to--during the day OR at midnight--it looks like I'll have pllllennnnnty of time to do that.