BITTERNESS; ONLY ONE THING I DID WRONG, STAYED IN MEDFORD OREGON A DAY TOO LONG

I guess it was about a year ago that I started this blog. I had just hitched to Medford OR thru the Cascades amidst rain and snow. Walking on the shoulder that was two inches wide, flashing my phone when I thought a car was coming. Living as the invisible man.

I got a ride into Medford and called Jamie. Such a pleasant voice.

Who is Jamie? You know. The cats pajamas.
WELL! This is going to take a while.
Physically she is extremely pretty. To put it into perspective, if you were to see us walk in together you would think "what's she doin' with him?"

Major gap.

When I was living in Santa Fe I decided to go up to Medford and drink some beer. Howie still had my old bike and I went out for a ride on a Sat. a.m. Cutting thru a park a boy of two stepped out in front of me. I muttered under my breath "keep it on a leash". At that moment the mother grabbed the childs hand. We locked eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Leaving" was my answer.
She knew where to find me. We spent a wonderful nite together. Sheer. It is good to hear, but from a married woman it is a gut wrencher. I had to get back to S.F. Once there I was back at work. I had nothing to say. I had a friend to run interference for me. I cried about how she was sorry and that we were meant to be togethdidn't ask, but he was kind enough. I didn't speak for weeks. I listened to Dylans "Love and Theft" cd over and over. No one writes love poems like Bob. Any poo, had I left a day earlier I never would have reconnected.

A year later while living in Flagstaff I found her phone # in my wallet. Called, spoke, parted.
Then I'm in Pocatello. We connect again. I want to take a trip. No commitments.

Back to the top.

I get there late Thurs,. Jamie and I have a great Friday nite. Saturday is spent with friends. Sunday playing fatal phone tag. Late evening we connect only for me to be the honest man that I am. FORGIVE ME FOR NOT LYING!

I called her a viufhgiubgyo8s,kh

She is. Will most likely always be.

She is every beautiful lyric that Bob Dylan ever wrote
I remember the day before my brothers wedding, shedding
tears over her. Happy for him. Bitter for her.

Now I feel sorry for the two of us. Her for not realizing.
Me for not having smashed that so called friend/ mother
fuckers head in. (Not hers. See "Why John Wayne drank cheap Bourbon."
one of my early post. Funny thing, speaking of dreams, I have had this
dream about three times since I last saw her. I am strangling her. Squeezing
and wringing her neck. Right when her body is about to go limp I release. Ironically
my letting go shows that I have a hard time letting go.)

Hows that for a parenthetical thought?

It is a 15 year tale wrapped up in this snippet. Buy me a beer
or ten and you'll get part of the whole story.

I used to be a nice guy. I'm working on it again. If you know a pretty
girl that likes Bob Dylan and Belgian beers, send her my way.

that photo came from her website www.jamiebutler.com
I hate her, but you'll love her.
she's a fool
Tell her that if she's looking for dignity it is me.

Man I miss Dusty!

Maybe I should get Pink to put her on a sheet of acid.