These past six years or so have seen me deal with sketchy young woman with suspect motives. I figure that God wants to give me plenty of chances to hammer away at this particular weakness of mine. I think I've done a pretty good job of it these last six years or so. I mean, it seemed as if one came right after the other, and then another, and then another. I had the idea that they must line up outside my door with this particular fucked up agenda. Don't get me wrong, though, prior to six years ago I found myself in a position to deal with sketchy women with sketchy motives aplenty, and to cite the last time I didn't meet my own standards of smarts and behavior, I have to go back to 1999. But, the sketchy women really seemed to come around with a vengeance after I committed to abstinence from alcohol and drugs in 2009, and then, starting in 2012, they really started piling on when I revived the "what if I turned my back on love" experiment from 1988 (see post from January, 2016 titled "I'm not bad").
So I propose a trade. I propose this trade with my own mind. I can let go of all the Legend of Richy Vegas stuff; the catching serial killers, the thwarting rapists, the finding Raoul Wallenberg and Josef Mengele, the fucking over the Khmer Rouge and the IRA; I can exchange all of that stuff for the hard earned ability to make intelligent decisions about the kind of women that led me to psychotic states in the first place. Is that a deal?
The story I'm working on in my comic books now, "The Legend of Richy Vegas," deals with my gran mal meltdown of 1992. One of the central themes of that episode centered around the idea that I prevented Jenna from getting raped by Billy Billiams. I thought for a little bit tonight that I didn't want to trade that one along with the others, because that whole theme appeared to represent a real "where the rubber meets the road" scenario. But, seeing as how Jenna came out of that whole experience unscathed, and I still don't know whether she even knew Billy Billiams, I can just let that one go as well, I suppose.
So I propose a trade. I propose this trade with my own mind. I can let go of all the Legend of Richy Vegas stuff; the catching serial killers, the thwarting rapists, the finding Raoul Wallenberg and Josef Mengele, the fucking over the Khmer Rouge and the IRA; I can exchange all of that stuff for the hard earned ability to make intelligent decisions about the kind of women that led me to psychotic states in the first place. Is that a deal?
The story I'm working on in my comic books now, "The Legend of Richy Vegas," deals with my gran mal meltdown of 1992. One of the central themes of that episode centered around the idea that I prevented Jenna from getting raped by Billy Billiams. I thought for a little bit tonight that I didn't want to trade that one along with the others, because that whole theme appeared to represent a real "where the rubber meets the road" scenario. But, seeing as how Jenna came out of that whole experience unscathed, and I still don't know whether she even knew Billy Billiams, I can just let that one go as well, I suppose.
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