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"Dear Zach, I Hate You." - Love, God

2004-08-11 - 8:21 a.m.

Tone: Defeated

Listening To: David Byrne, The Smiths, The Beatles, CSN&Y

Quote: "Thomas the Train says: 'I love Giraffe Man & Woman!'" - Becca

I hate everyone and their stupid faces.

That said, I'm going for a run to clear my head. I'll be back in a while.


Ok, three hours later . . . no, no - I wasn't off running that long. I've been back forever. But running did clear my head. As long as your definition of "clear" is "fill up with anxious thoughts of broken cars and jars of pine tar". Then yes - my head is 100% clear. Hold on . . . now I have to go help Ben make amends with some bird family that he almost slaughtered today. I know. Typical.

Ok. Back from that. Now there's some angry birds chirping up a storm outside my window at 12:30 at night. Sweet. I'm so not explaining the story. Ben pissed off some birds. We tried to make nice tonight. Didn't really pull it off. That's all you need to know.

Fuck this. It's too late to do this entry now. Since I have to get up at the crack of fuck ass dawn to go to the mechanic to get my car so I can give it its last rites. Sigh.


Well, it's now the "crack of fuck ass dawn", as I so eloquently stated in that last paragraph. If you can believe it - and you should - the birds are STILL CHIRPING. I just went outside to check on them while Ben was in the shower. I felt perhaps if it was just me they wouldn't be so hostile. Wrong. I almost got my eyes pecked out. Oh well.

So I'm leaving in like 10 minutes so Ben can drop me off at the garage so I can pay another couple hundred dollars to get my Jeep back. I've now paid over $300 in the last 5 days to find out that my car, in medical terms, has "shit the bed". My aunt said it looks like the solution is that I should just "buy a new car". Hmmmmm - yeah - that's a perfect solution! Maybe there's a dealership that trades in only fingernails, cereal boxes and broken coat hangers! If so, Saab convertible here I come! Fuckers. I still hate everyone. The calming affects of last night's run have worn off. Well, I'm off to go identify the body . . .


Sad. So now the Jeep is at least back in my driveway. Where we can light it on fire and shove it off into the ocean. Somehow, in the back of my head, I always knew I was going to be called upon to give my first car a Viking Funeral. So yeah - how am I gonna get from home to work now? Or to see Nanny in Concord? Or to housesit for Andrea & Phil? Or go buy those special cigarellos that Kenichi so loves? I. Don't. Have. A. Fucking. Clue. At least it's not insanely stressing me out or anything. Ha ha. Yup. Not at all.

So yeah, as far as Secret Crush goes - she knows my name now (because I introduced myself so I wouldn't just be known by my Native American name, "tall kid from toy store") She introduced herself. Which I made pretend I didn't already know her name so not to come across even more stalkerish. And, after being rather prescient with it in my Secret Crush entry, I did make a Spider-Sense joke and she did laugh at it. That was when Al-Y and I went in there with this whole covert plan where Al-Y would yell my name to get my attention so S.C. could hear it (which we didn't think worked, hence the introduction by me days later). I was riding high after that until Shan-Y and I went down a while after that so S.C. could potentially overhear some more witty repartee, but her scraggly boyfriend was skulking about in his scraggly fashion. That put us (S.C. & I) in a fight for a few days, unbeknownst to her of course. But things were ok a few days later. That was forever ago though. Now we can be a little more familiar with each other. But apparently not so familiar that she feels compelled to dump her boyfriend for me. The girls at the G, sans perhaps Becca, seemed to have given up hope for me and Secret Crush. Well, I shouldn't say that. Al-Y suggested I go up to her and say, "Once you go Zach, you never go back." But . . . you know . . . I don't think so. But now that I have no mode of transportation I think I'm that much more flashy of a romantic package, non? She's probably thinking, "Mmmm! After I pick him up at work we can drive to Makeout Point! And after Makeout Point we can drive to the comic store!" Oh that Secret Crush, she always knows just what to hypothetically forecast as internal dialogue!

Looking forward to my birthday party. Of course. Especially if my friends are all planning to surprise me with a brand spankin' new car. But somehow I don't think so. Losers. Peter, and potentially MC Jon, will be making the drive up here from Florida at the end of the month and should arrive a few days before the party. At that point, Peter plans to stay here in the Rollinsford Business District for a few weeks while he puts his moth-like feelers around the area looking for a place for him and Titie to live. Ben said, "See? Then Peter'll be around to help drive you places." I answered, "'See?' What're you 'See?'-ing me about? I never said Peter wouldn't! But I SINCERELY hope I won't NEED any one to help me by then since I hope to hell I have a car by then." God. This car thing is stressing me out so bad. I wish that little Vehix guy would come to my door. Sigh.

Fuck. I have to return Matt and Shannon's wedding RSVP like yesterday. Bad unorganized Zach! Bad! It's not my fault. The invitations were so glossy and shiny and pretty. So I kept showing them to people, and now I don't know where it is. Fuck. I need to find that.

Went to Brooklyn this last weekend. Apparently, akin to when Homer's brain - after too many idiot decisions on Homer's part - turns on him, walks across his head and slams the door, my car decided that after laying his life on the front lines for the drive to Stamford and back, he was going to give up the ghost. And give up the ghost he did. Can't say I blame him. Any significant time in Connecticut would cut back anyone's life span. But at least he gave his life so I could have fun in New York with the Nico & Misha's mom. Monique and I couldn't have had a less traditional "Friend comes to visit New York" weekend. And it was all fine by me. We spent the entire weekend watching Sopranos Season 5, eating, drinking, playing cards, watching some Freaks and Geeks, and walking around Brooklyn looking for good deals on music, movies, and any pieces of assorted crap that people were selling from their blankets/caravans/wheelbarrows on the sidewalk. And let me tell you - Brooklyn on a Saturday is FULL of assorted crap. But a lot of it was shiny. So you can't complain. And don't think Peter & Jon didn't call us Saturday night at 1AM, 2AM, and 3AM to play us some "rockin' guitar jams." Because they did. Those scamps. And it'd be a shame if I didn't mention that Monique must have said the phrase "strong arm" about a million times, as in, "Friend, you tried to strong arm me with the only weapon you had . . ." or some such variation of that. But not only is it too convoluted to explain why she was saying it, but it's also incredibly foul. So if she feels the overwhelming need to explain it in the comment section she is more than welcome. But somehow I don't think she will.

I feel as if the car dying is God's way of saying he hates me and I've clearly been doing something wrong. I'd stop doing what was wrong if I knew what it was. Stop chewing on the pens at work? Stop pickling the beets at the old folk's home? Stop slipping turpentine into Ben's vodka when he's not looking? Come on God, you gots to be more specific. I ain't no Zach of Arcadia here. Maybe if I don't stop whatever I'm doing that's offending Odin - I mean God - he'll send me to Hell! I hate hell! It's so hot! And the A/C NEVER works. And Al-Y will be there marching around saying, "Actually, I'm pretty comfortable right now. A little on the cold side maybe." Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! It sounds so horrible! Well, still . . . I'd rather go to hell than to . . .


Oh Good Lord, I get chills just looking at it. I think I'm gonna cry blood now. Well, moreso

It's been real,


ps - TC, I apologize if that picture above spooked you out. It spooks me out too. I wanted to go for something devilishly wicked with more than a hint of mystery about it - and I thought Kimball's Castle fit the bill perfectly. But now I realize I went with something far too devilishly wicked!

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