Going Jack Torrance

I once had a friend.

He was an ex-boyfriend, actually, but we became and remained very close friends for more than a decade after our split.

Then he died.

I may be losing my mind, but at least I look good doing it.

But that’s not the story. The story is that for many years, he worked for the Swiss postal service (oh, he was Swiss, by the way), a duty he called ‘going postal.’ I could never fully discern if he understood what we meant by that, but it always amused me either way. You’d be talking to him on the phone, and he’d notice the time and announce, “I need to go postal.” or “Time for me to go postal.”

So anyway, I bring this up because originally, this was going to open with a quote from the artist Guagin, but I decide to cut instead to the chase with a full confession that THIS SOLITARY CONFINEMENT SH*T IS MAKING ME CRAZY.

You heard it here first: I am beginning to tilt in the direction of a Stephen King novel. And by that I mean my mental state, not what I myself am working on.

That tree behind me is one of the main desert finch stomping grounds. I may have to blow it up.

Seriously, how do people do this?

It’s a real double-edged sword.

I’m getting lots of work done.

But I’m starting to really wish someone else was here so I could chase them around with an axe through a snow maze.

At least it’d be a change of scenery.

Hell, I’d play Big Wheel with some evil dead twins or chat with the mildly intimidating Lloyd for hours if the opportunity arose.

Yeah. All work and no play make Vanessa go something something.

In other news, and to make use of what’s already been typed:

“Go on working freely and furiously and you will make progress.”

–Paul Gaugin

Note that progress does not mean that you will have ultimate success or that said product will be viable. That stated, I agree with Monsieur Gaugin wholeheartedly. I have made progress.

The accidental homewrecker upon the magic stairs.

I have not stopped to edit jack sh*t (despite my pledges to myself to the contrary), but as of today I will have written seventeen chapters. Out of 30. 57%. Heinz 57. (I don’t think I’ve ever tasted it, but how can there really be 57 flavors in that? What is it anyway? Some kind of ketchup? Barbeque sauce? Besides, who would even put 57 ingredients in something? That’s absurd. What, do they think we’re stupid?)

Anyway, as I mentioned, 17 chapters assuming I lather, rinse, repeat as usual today. So there’s that.

I think I saw a movie on Gaugin once. He was the one who went and lived in Central America and the Carribbean in kind of a strange and primitive manner when that was totally unheard of and super uncivilized for a European, right? And he may have looked like Keifer Sutherland?

Meanwhile, greetings from Day 18.

Out of 26 days.

Well, 26 complete complete days, if you’re counting only complete days.

Which I am.

Playing guitar, trying not to stare directly at the psychedelic sofa, and slowly turning the color of the walls in this joint.

The reasoning for doing so – as I barrel toward the end of this time – is the dawning realization that  30 chapters in 26 days is too much.

Especially as it seems that every weekend (last week being on Sunday, this week being on Saturday) my brain goes on strike, and I don’t even get a whole chapter done. And I have an increasing desire to at least see a little of the area (La Paz, Cabo beaches, etc.) before I’m gone. And not be here next Saturday night when the owners are around.

So I figure if my brain is going to be non-cooperative, it may as well have some fun.

To whit, the two lost days have sucked big time. Last Sunday I was in a total funk (hormonal, in hindsight), and on Saturday the interruption was caused by my landlord.

I’ve mentioned him before. And I’m pretty sure I mentioned that I wasn’t a big fan.

Beautiful ocean on a sunny day. I will say, the weather here kicks some serious ass.

Now I’m less of a fan.
Let’s just say it’s not worth the time to explain in detail, but in general it has to do with widespread inadequacies in the rental situation and rust stains and motor vehicle issues topped off with his coming over here Saturday to announce that he’s apparently getting a divorce and I – the woman renting this house who doesn’t particularly enjoy his presence and has spoken to him a collective 40 minutes in the nearly three weeks I’ve been here – is in some part the cause.

Yeah, you read that right.

He basically interrupted a short-term rental tenant on a Saturday morning to blame his impending divorce on her.

I mean…what???

Apparently the Mexican wife thinks it’s a ‘set up’ that I’m staying here and is upset, and has moved out, and left their two and ten-year old boys behind, and (he implied) thinks we’re having an affair.

I’m not even going to get into the last part of that sentence because, to be completely honest with you, it makes me feel ill, and it’s too early in the morning to be all nauseated.

One of those bastard birds.

However, if Senora Einstein wanted to check her facts, I would pose but one key question: “If it’s a set up, why in god’s name have I paid you guys all this money?”

Hell, I think I’m the one being set up.

Anyway, lame and unwelcome and unwelcoming and gets my mind wondering why is he telling me this? Is it to be like, “Hey baby, I’m single now.”(And note: I may be going The Shining crazy over here, but not that crazy), and if I have to hear one more word about it, I’m going to run out into the yard and bite the head off of one of these noisy ass desert finches Ozzy Osbourne style.

Actually, I might do that anyway.
Those f*ckers have ruined my sleep for weeks now.

They let out these blood curdling shrieks at all hours of the night that wake me from a deep slumber and scare the living crap out of me and they make this other noise like a jackhammer and they then launch into what I can only assume is a mating call at sunrise (roughly 6:30am) every morning, and I”m over it. They’re dead to me.

Done.

Fini.

Kaput.

Eating some banana bread I made (and without any way to measure and no baking pan and in a Celcius oven...but still it worked out. Must be the magic stairs) and totally matching the walls. You see it too, right???

Those babies’ days are numbered. I’m taking them out Mexican drug lord style, whatever that means.

Anyway, that reminds me, the other day I was talking to Grady, and I was trying to figure out how long he’d been staying at the casita and he was like, ‘I’m not staying in the casita, you live in the casita.”

And I was like, “No, I don’t live here. I’m just visiting for a few weeks while I write this book.”

And he’s all, “”You have always lived in the casita.  I should know. I’ve always been here.”

And then I looked at some pictures of myself and noted that I have started to match the walls of the casita in an apparent concrete Mexican shack/human chameleon spooky-ass oneness, and I realized that Grady was right.

Tags: Admit it you guys love it when I complain., Don't you guys love how I constantly travel and then bitch about it? Obviously you must if you're not only reading this blog but these tags, Going The Shining crazy, I am funnier when I'm annoyed., I am losing my mind., I am seriously starting to match the walls of this place, I am so going to write a scathing review on VRBO, I called it. I said that wife was eying me like she thought I wanted her jerk of a husband., I drank too much instant coffee, I hate it when other people mess up my vibe, I officially hate the landlord, I'm hungry, I'm obsessed with the Chris Brown song Forever, Is this enough tags already?, Jack Torrance, Just you and me moving at the speed of light into eternity..., Life, me me me, people are idiots, People are jerks, Seriously who comes over to a vacation rental tenant and says their marriage because of them???, The landlord was whining to me about his wife yesterday and then starts bragging about how it's good and he's going to get into shape and sail all over the world. Blowhard., The wife had it good - four houses + four cars + a maid + she didn't have to work at all. I can see where she'd think someone would try to get in on that but wouldn't that make you hold on and not lea, Todos Santos travel, What is that guy's deal? Blowhard., Why would you just up and leave someone based on vague accusations of cheating? Idiota.

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