Dickie Cronkite

I just had the mother of all commutes: LAX to Downtown DC. Left 2AM EST and touched down at BWI at 7AM. I think I managed about 3 hours of shuteye. I'm about to fall over.

I'd like to thank everyone who endured my Mikey-esque behavior this weekend - it was a trying few days, to say the least. (Fortunately, I managed not to leave Nicky twelve voice messages before she finally picked up the phone.)

For anyone not in the know...Father Time was seriously fucking with my head. TAFKAC and I broke up nearly 6 months ago, and we had both moved on.

But...

When I was last in LA, seven months ago - the last time I'd seen her - circumstances were considerably different. Even though you realize that life has moved on in your absence, it doesn't sink in until you return to observe in person.

And then it's like getting hit with a blunt metal object over the head.

Think Cast Away, except tweak the plot so that a seagull manages to deliver Tom Hanks a Dear John letter on the beach, and when he finally makes it off the island he already knows Helen Hunt has probably re-married but he has to see to believe it.

(And then throw in that Tom Hanks immediately has to go attend his cousin's wedding. "The End.")

So you get an idea of my extended weekend. Weird - and painful - to say the least.

And unexpected, too - I mean, I've been coasting along for months, no problem. I thought this was all behind me and thensome. But as RND sagely noted:

"Dickie, you've been living on credit for the last six months. This weekend you got the bill."

No shit!

But I guess it was necessary, even if it sucked balls. "Closure," they call it. Again, not to mince words but I call it getting your skull cracked with a blunt instrument. If the shoe fits...

And if there's a hopeful note to the story, it's that S.B. and I hung out jacuzzi-side on Sunday night. By coincidence, we're both dealing with similar craptacular breakup issues so we could commiserate. Less than four years ago, we were dealing with our own painful breakup issues, so it's funny how things work out. Life goes on; rough patches get smoothed over...unless, I suppose, you get hit by an asteroid or some global superpower drops bombs on your humble dwelling or some terrorist blows you up in retaliation for the global superpower or something.

It'll all work out - just don't get caught in the crossfire.

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2005-07-12 2:52 PM Time warps. Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (8) Share on Facebook	I just had the mother of all commutes: LAX to Downtown DC. Left 2AM EST and touched down at BWI at 7AM. I think I managed about 3 hours of shuteye. I'm about to fall over. I'd like to thank everyone who endured my Mikey-esque behavior this weekend - it was a trying few days, to say the least. (Fortunately, I managed not to leave Nicky twelve voice messages before she finally picked up the phone.) For anyone not in the know...Father Time was seriously fucking with my head. TAFKAC and I broke up nearly 6 months ago, and we had both moved on. But... When I was last in LA, seven months ago - the last time I'd seen her - circumstances were considerably different. Even though you realize that life has moved on in your absence, it doesn't sink in until you return to observe in person. And then it's like getting hit with a blunt metal object over the head. Think Cast Away, except tweak the plot so that a seagull manages to deliver Tom Hanks a Dear John letter on the beach, and when he finally makes it off the island he already knows Helen Hunt has probably re-married but he has to see to believe it. (And then throw in that Tom Hanks immediately has to go attend his cousin's wedding. "The End.") So you get an idea of my extended weekend. Weird - and painful - to say the least. And unexpected, too - I mean, I've been coasting along for months, no problem. I thought this was all behind me and thensome. But as RND sagely noted: "Dickie, you've been living on credit for the last six months. This weekend you got the bill." No shit! But I guess it was necessary, even if it sucked balls. "Closure," they call it. Again, not to mince words but I call it getting your skull cracked with a blunt instrument. If the shoe fits... And if there's a hopeful note to the story, it's that S.B. and I hung out jacuzzi-side on Sunday night. By coincidence, we're both dealing with similar craptacular breakup issues so we could commiserate. Less than four years ago, we were dealing with our own painful breakup issues, so it's funny how things work out. Life goes on; rough patches get smoothed over...unless, I suppose, you get hit by an asteroid or some global superpower drops bombs on your humble dwelling or some terrorist blows you up in retaliation for the global superpower or something. It'll all work out - just don't get caught in the crossfire. Read/Post Comments (8) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top
:: HOME :: GET EMAIL UPDATES :: The Desert Sun :: J-school :: Undergrad :: Hoya Saxa :: The Other Dark Continent :: Greatest Sports Franchise Ever :: Bill Simmons - Sports Guy Home Page :: Laker Jim's Kurt Rambis Page :: Dodger Blues Dot Com :: This American Life :: Slate :: NOVICA.com :: Racist Big East Semi Final Loser :: Karen Warrior-Chieftain :: Sara Global :: Kirty Word :: Award-winning Pointlessness :: The Ultimate Douchebag :: RM :: Miss E's Opinions :: Dad's book ::