Since the age of twenty I've attracted the attention of a weird kind of female bully.  I guess they would characterize themselves as alluring femme fatales or some such shit as that, but really, they're just bullies.  I've been thinking about my relationship with this one older sister I had right around  the onset of puberty.  She would physically attack me and scratch my arms up with her nails and shit like that.  As my hormones progressed, I saw her as an alluring target for feels on her titties and peeping at her undressing and whatnot, which she would label as incestuous.  So, there's some sadomasochistic issues for you.  Eh?  

That would explain my attraction to these bully types I've encountered since the onset of my mental illness at the age of twenty.  For the past ten or eleven years I've been dealing with the symptoms of love addiction without really putting my finger on some of that stuff.  As far as my family goes, there's just a rich bountiful harvest of dysfunction to choose from, but yeah, the sadomasochistic issues with very attractive, young women.....

With this last bully, I never even tried to talk to her.  There was just something so sketchy about her from day one, that stopped me right there.  I wavered quite a bit from time to time, but "home" for me always returned to the idea of having no real desire to try to have anything at all to do with her.  Who cares from whence her shit came?  I don't.  Regular readers of this space know I went on quite a bit about her, but in real life, no attempt to have anything to do with her could contain the promise of possibility my fixations on these kinds of women used to have.  If she was doing her little schtick on behalf of someone from my past, well, some asshole type always wants to step up to the plate and face me- to the point where I don't particularly care what particular chute this or that turd rolled down from any more.  There's more where she came from, I guess.  What I'm hoping for is a reverse domino effect.  In other words, I feel no need to try and rebound with any other women in my world (young waitress/barista types) over this latest bully I've dealt with, and so I hope that state of mind continues.

I think it helps to view my problems with love addiction as a chronic illness along the lines of diabetes or arthritis.  One just needs to take care of it to some degree on an almost daily basis.  One will have better days, weeks, and months at some times and not so good days, weeks, and months at other times.  My love addiction comprises a key component to my mental illness that medication alone doesn't seem to meaningfully address.

As far as how that pertains to this young woman I've been talking about since last year, well, what has she "done," really?  On a few occasions she threw me flirtatious looks of varying degrees of intensity.  All the while she lived a personal life that didn't really involve me.  That's about all I have on her.

For my part, I wavered in my commitment to leave her alone from time to time, but as of right now, I have no "plans" for her.   The world doesn't seem to be in danger of running out of unavailable women any time soon, so I hope that my efforts to manage this aspect of my mental illness in light of this reality continue to prove as effective as in times past.

I've managed to memorize all fifteen songs off my next album, I Make Country Music Records, Sir.  Last year around May and June, I set out to memorize the remaining eight of the fifteen.  I figured two months would provide me with plenty of time to memorize the eight remaining songs.  Hah!  I gave up on that idea in late June of 2019.  In late July, carpal tunnel issues came up in my left arm.  That whole deal took about four-plus months to resolve.  I now wear a wrist brace on my left hand and wrist at night to keep from pinching the nerves in my wrist when I sleep at night.  I hope the brace helps me avoid getting surgery.

One of the last songs I had to memorize has the title, "The Man Who Never Washed Her Hair."  It uses a modal key progression.  That means the verses go up a half key during part of the song; for example, from the key of C, to C sharp, to D, to D sharp.  "The Man Who Never Washed His Hair" finds it's basis in a true story I heard a while back about a couple of people I knew.  In the song, I make myself the narrator, who buys a bunch of cocaine to bring to his girlfriend in Iowa.  As the narrator goes up IH 35 from Austin in his shitty old car, he skims off the stash of coke all the way up.  He finally arrives at his girlfriend's hotel room in Iowa, and he's done all the coke, and his "dick is dishrag limp and it's useless as a Trump."  I changed the narrator to myself to spare the real person's feelings if they should ever hear the song.  I plan on posting a video of it next month on my YouTube channel.

I'm also practicing my AC/DC and Jimi Hendrix on my electric guitar.  My teacher gives me new stuff all the time, but I'd just as soon memorize some of the stuff we've gone over so I could do some of it at an open mike sometime in the future.  I take virtual guitar lessons from my teacher ever since this coronavirus stuff hit.

I'm on the final stages of inking issue number 21 of Richy Vegas Comics.  I just inked pages 33 and 34 today.  I just ink two a day right now, because I want time to do other stuff like music.  This issue features Robin, who came to me in my head during my period of psychosis in 1992.  She's a lot like "Monica," the Mexican girl I met in Spain 1988, whom i feature prominently in, Richy Vegas: A Psycho Memoir.  I met Robin only once in 1989, but she took on a very prominent role in my psychotic hallucinations in 1992.  I looked up her Facebook page a couple of weeks ago, but I didn't put in a friend request.  She still looks good.  She lives in Austin, is married, and has a kid.   

In my last post I put forth the notion that other employees at this business wanted me to try to get to know this young woman I write about better.  If that notion has any basis in reality, I feel extremely honored.  I talk often about my desire to improve my relationship with women, and the idea that people would consider it a good thing for this young woman to become friends with me amounts to something like an Academy Award for self-improvement.  That does not go unnoticed or unappreciated by me, I assure everyone.

I just don't want to get in the middle of anything between this young woman and another person.  I'm sorry, but the other day I got the distinct impression that any effort to get with this young woman would amount to just that.  In better times than we have now, I would say that there's plenty of fish in the sea, and that I find no need to do something like that.  My last post touched upon the idea that any attempt to work stuff like that out during this time would prove inappropriate and too difficult to accomplish.  

But, again, I emphasize how honored I feel that people want me to try and get something going with her.  In my memory, which to me feels not too long ago, people definitely DID NOT see me as someone who might hit it off with someone like her.  In fact, people tended to see me as more of a threat to someone like her than anything else.  Again, thanks to all the well wishers, I wish I felt as if I could follow through on your wishes, if that indeed proves to be your desire.  But, one should remember, this young woman is an adult as well, and her wishes need honoring too.

I spent a good deal of last night going over things in my head in regards to this young woman at this one business I patronize.  I came up with a theory that other employees at this business want me to pursue a friendship with this young woman, no matter her personal life circumstances.  By that I mean, I think she probably has a boyfriend.  I'm flattered that perhaps a lot of employees like the idea of me pursuing a friendship with this young woman, but I don't want to do that right now.  

First off, I'm a fifty-six year old man.  I bring that up because I've been in this place before; where people had ideas about matching me up with this or that woman, and I looked into it a little, and I came to the conclusion that things wouldn't work, but people tried to overrule me.  A lot of people seem to have the idea that mentally ill people, regardless of their age or level of development, are more like children than adults, and that the mentally ill person can't make sound decisions on their own behalf.  That's very disrespectful.

Second, I realize that there can exist a lot of gray areas in these situations, but this time in our history and our own lives does not seem to present good opportunities to sort out those gray areas, in my opinion.   Now represents a time for all of us to just look out for ourselves and those around us as best as we can, and not the time at all for these kinds of romantic issues.

I repeat: I'm not going to try to pursue a friendship with this young woman now or in the foreseeable future.  I'm not interested in trying to be there for her, because I don't really even know her at all.  Please, I want people to respect my judgement, and for these employees at this business to treat me in a professional, courteous manner.

Well, I patronized this business that this young woman works at very recently.  Yes, I saw her.  Yes, I said hello.  Yes, she said hello back in a pleasant enough way, I guess.  I went about my business and saw her again as I left the business.  She seemed busy with her phone, maybe trying to call someone, and we did not exchange greetings as I left.

Now, I have some guesses here.  Maybe she seemed irked while using her phone because she needed transportation home from work, and had trouble accomplishing that task.  Maybe, maybe, she became frustrated when she couldn't track down her real boyfriend.  Eh?  Here I am, the guy who supposedly played the unloving son of a bitch role in her life when I abandoned her to the coronavirus a few months back.  Here I am, I mean, HERE I AM.  Am I her guy?  Why did she seem so focused on her phone calls?

Well, what column should all her flirtations fall under in light of the fact that her attention seemed to go elsewhere when I was in the building?  She wouldn't be some kind of....player, would she?  Do I really need to "be there" in this time of coronavirus for some total player type?  I don't think so.

I've decided to patronize that business at the times I think that young woman might work there.  I decided against that course of action for some months, but I will resume again.  I looked at the news of new COVID-19 infections for Travis County and Texas.  Things look grim.  I think that I will just try to be there for this young woman.  She can do whatever she wants in her personal life.  I don't care.  Last Sunday she seemed glad to see me.  I don't feel much like getting to know new people now.  It seems highly inappropriate to press someone such as this young woman for contact info or anything like that.  I'm just going to do like I do.  I'm in a much less risky position than a lot of people now.  My health remains pretty good, and I don't have to work right now.  I'm less fearful of the coronavirus now, but I think I do a pretty good job of respecting Mother Nature.  I don't take any foolish chances about the places I go, and I will just hang around this situation with this young woman like the St. Louis Cardinals seem to do every baseball season and somehow wind up in the playoffs when all is said and done.

I've decided to once more patronize that business where this young woman works at the times I think she works there.  I  think these blog posts that I write concerning her make up a big part of what appeals to her about this situation.  I'll try to keep that it mind, but I also want things to breathe a little, so I will try to refrain from writing too, too much about the whole deal.  I will just say now that whatever part of me cared for her in the past has ballooned off the scale these past couple of days.  I will try in the coming days and weeks to assess what's really going on, though, and try to make intelligent decisions accordingly.  

Yep, Chris Gaffney and The Cold Hard Facts: Live and Then Some. Has been on heavy rotation for quite a while.  Highlights of this great album include: "Fade to Grey," "C'mon Joe," "WALTZ FOR MINNIE," "East of Houston, West of Baton Rouge," " '68."

Right now I've got Chet Baker Sings on the computer playing songs of love, longing, and longing for love.  No Frank Sinatra confidently belting out "Nice and Easy" for me today, but rather a young Chet Baker coming from a lonelier, more wistful, melancholy,  somewhat desperate place.  If any extremely attractive, totally viable, very young woman in my world actually took an interest in me for some dumbass reason, I would hip them to the legacy of Chet Baker.

Check out the documentary Let's Get Lost to see what became of the handsome young man seen on the cover of Chet Baker Sings.  Filming began in January 1987, so Chet must have been 57, 58 at the most.  He looks like shit. He tells the story of how he lost most of his upper teeth in a drug deal gone bad in the late '60's, he confesses his drug of choice at the time of filming was to mainline a "speedball," a mixture of cocaine and heroin, the very idea of which, "Scares the hell out of most people."  The filmmakers interview his parents, who say that yes, Chet has received a lot of awards and recognition throughout his career, but his parents agree when the interviewer asks them if he is a disappointment to them in the end.  I don't want to give away the ending, but it is not exactly a surprise how Chet meets his demise.   Ooo, I made a rhyme.

As for an old cruster like me, some young gal feeling like an asshole for liking me in the first place could tell herself, "At least he's not Chet Baker."  I'm not saying I think any young wimmins out there has anything like that going on for me, I'm just saying what if.  Oh well, the album's on pause, I want to listen to the rest of it now.