this would be her last trip to roseberg. maybe the last time she would see him. all day she had spent time with the foster grandmother of his children, his x- wife and the waste of his former life were swarming like ants on a dead carcass. she just wanted to be sure that she got far enough away so as not to become yet another dead thing trapped by what once seemed like love. the tension that seemed to waft through his words like razor sharp incisons on a soul that was far too sensative for the likes of him. in this heap of wreckage, this seething town of incestous garbage- where he suggests that she be kind loving tolerant and accepting without an opinion or a word about any of it, unless he wanted to hear it.
most of the time he did not want to hear it. she was like a trophy wife or something. being clean and sober was something that required some skill, and his manipulations had got her to Roseberg. She loved him, yeah sure, but the thing that was s shocking was that she was beginning to love herself far more. she wanted a life for herself that eliminated any signs of stress and all people that were not actively involved in making this world a better place to live- she knew just from what she had seen herself, that this was more than possible. the way people remebered her paintings and the way people smiled or talked to her was proof that she would never have to even visit a trailor park unless she was on a 12 step call. "there are some places that are better left unseen. if at all possible, just do not go there"
there are some people that will never even know that there is a difference- between the gutter and the palace is a moat. choose where you stand.
the same things happen everytime they came here, he slid into his drug dealer persona and became so incredibly self-centered she wanted to just jump in the car and drive away. why?
well sometimes a place can bring on bad shit, and Roseberg well it is some bad stuff. just makes you want to cut yourself, all the food tastes the same here, no matter what you eat, and a lot of people do not have teeth.
perhaps the most difficult thing to endure is that once you are here for a period of time, it feels like the world is closing in on you. it does not matter what language you speak because you cannot be understood. the amount of brain damage due to the over abundance of meth abuse is s high, that brain cells can be heard screaming on the sidewalk.
he liked to stage fights with her, and then try to blame it on her. he had dated some pretty stupid girls before her, and they actully believed that it was all thier fault. some women do not like to be alone, abuse is subtle sometimes.
alone is sometimes when you are with someone that does not really want to be with you, makes no effort to have fun or pleasure your body, just holding you should be enough. sure-- maybe for someone without brain cells == sure
roseberg is not filled with smart people, the ones that had any sense left a long time ago.she sometimes missed her italian husband, and the past. she was young then and did not know what she had. living in Italy would be preferable to Roseberg Oregon, i am sure of that. even if she was only visiting, Lagos Nigeria was preferable. The stench of open sewage and insanity seemed more interesting than living with a crazy money grubbing indian woman in a redecorated garage while she professed to have a non-profit and date an medcine person in south Dakota.Her other friend was slam dunk fucked up on drugs and was always having meltdowns, and if she tried to smoke american spirit cigarettes with her, she knew she would die. her chest filled up with liquid and she wheezed. somehow intimacy has got to be easier.her two closest friends had long conversations on the phone about how they were each going to try to dominate nd control thier mutual friend, usually by trying to find something she could do for them. they did not like her husband because she had less time to do things for them. That is ok she did not always like him either, but she loved him. it was just a matter of taste, and learning things like"this is the last time I am coming to Roseberg"
"I will not watch horror movies with you again"
the summary seemed to be what am I willing to do?inall of these odd friendships and relationships the things that made her happy were things like painting and writng, and talking to small children abandoned by drug addicts that tried to steal her jewelry and play with her hair. se said" hey slick, that is mine" to the little girl that tried to take her bracelet.
then she tld er, "you are very beautiful but being beautiful snt enough, it will be hard at first but it will be worth it"
his x was a drug addict that would not get clean to get custody of the kids. she had the smell of death following her.
she told her, your liver is not functioning properly, you have to make a decison" after the cub scout Luau where the cops wore hula skirts and danced for donations for the pledge cards for the scouts,and all the cops that had arrested him were there. him and his x were always chatting about war stories- she wanted protection and respect- she wanted nice sheets and no food on the linens, se wanted perfume and meals served late at night.
she wanted a life where things were not a fight, where she did not have to do everything. talking to someones x all night would warrant a small amout of affection - perhaps from a man that loved you- what would that feel like?
roseburg
Feb 2007
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