bleckblog: musings of a community college english teacher

Today was my first commute day in the snow, on the bike. I saw three other commuters on the road, two this morning and one this evening. It was a bit dicey at first, but I bought studded snow tires yesterday. I had to take off my rear fender and rack and go "commando" with the rear wheel, getting a little splattered by snow and mud. The only close calls were on the way home where people had shoveled their drives into the street, creating mounds of snow and slush. There was also a point heading down the last hill to the house, on an arterial, where something similar happened and I had a quick scare, but no cars were near. Too many car this morning, however, were bombing down the hill, even though it had been de-iced. I should say, because it had been de-iced. They figured it was just another day on the road, never mind the snow that fell last night.

As for the novel, I've hit several walls. I'm running out of steam, and time, both by the day and for the month. And ideas, ideas in particular. I thought I'd be able to milk several thousand words out of today's bit, but I got only a thousand, or a little more. I'm at 37,587 words. More than 12000 to go and just a few days to do it. 4000-plus a day is a long, long shot. We'll see what happens. It could pan out, but, well, but, but, but . . .

29 December Dishin’ and Bitchin’ blog entry

Well, my girl P-car is either getting in too deep, or starting to come to her senses. How long can someone go on sleeping with two people, maybe having sex with both of them, but while wanting to have sex with just one of them, and those two people she’s having sex with are father and son, the son being her so-called “boyfriend”? How many of us need a girlfriend like that? Love her as I do, I just can’t see how she’s going to come out of this undamaged. I know if I was the boyfriend and I knew what was going on, well, I don’t know. Would I want to kill my supposed girl friend, or my father? What’s the bigger betrayal? Me, I’d have to think the father bit was the bigger crime. Men and women have been steppin’ out on each other since the beginning, except maybe for Adam and Eve, or Adam and Steve, or Eve and Evelyn for that matter. As long as there’s been couples, there’s been steppin’ out. That’s just the way it is.

We might even blame this sort of thing on biology. Those guys need to spread their oats; they have to propagate themselves. That’s why men have the wandering eyes they do. That doesn’t mean it’s okay. Supposedly mankind can rise above these sorts of instincts and desires, but we all know how that goes. If we haven’t cheated on someone, we’ve probably been cheated on, it’s that pervasive. But we should know better, men and women alike. But men, with all those little swimmers, those guys just gotta get up and go. That’s why they’re always dividing inside that sack, always making more of themselves, just waiting for the opportunity to seek out an egg. But when those men go seekin’ out eggs, indirectly through some pretty woman, that’s where things go wrong. It’s like free speech. Just because you can do it doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. So, maybe we can forgive a little wanderin’ as a weakness.

But when that wanderin’ is the father, and he’s gettin’ down and dirty with his son’s girl, that’s where there are no excuses. Yeah, them little spermies might be wantin’ to get out of Dodge, so to speak, but they should never be going to the son’s girl, never. Anyone getting all that hot over their son’s woman should just go and take care of it themselves if there’s no other safe outlet. Hell, just get with the wife and pretend. There’s a lot less harm in that, unless the wife asks “What’re you thinking about?” and you tell her. That could be trouble, big trouble. So, the father doing his son’s girl, that’s all but unforgivable. So, if I were the son, and I found out what was going on, I guess I’d want to kill my father more than my soon to be ex-girlfriend. But there are some confused people in this world. And it just so happens that one of those confused people is my girlfriend P-car. God only knows how she’s going to come out of this. I hope well, but it damn sure won’t be smelling like a rose. If she can just clean the stink off after all this is through, she’ll be doing okay.

Hey Justin. Roddy here. Sorry I missed you. Give me a call when you get this message. Things seem a little weird around here. Portia has been kinda distant over the holiday and I think she wants to go home, so she can see whoever it is she slept with. But at the same time it’s like she’s happy to stay here and hang out with my parents. I’ve never had anyone that interested in my parents, though there haven’t been all that many that my parents took a liking to either. I guess we’ll just have to see how it works out. When we hook up I’ll tell you more. We’ll be heading home in a day or two, after New Years, and we can get together then. So call me.

29 December

Portia,

Your note was not at all inappropriate. In fact, receiving it, holding it, smelling you on it, has brought me a warmth I can’t fully describe, but one I look forward to feeling more of. I’m sorry that we have to sneak around this way. If Alexis or Roddy were to learn what we’ve been up to, I’m afraid for how they might react. I don’t think either of them would understand the joy you’ve given me, and I hope that I’ve given you. To that end, you’ll want to be careful with this note. Destroying it would probably be the smart thing to do, but should you keep it, be careful with it. I’m looking forward to the next time we can be alone. It can’t be too soon.

All my love, L-----

My God, Diane, it happened. Roddy walked in on his father and me, in the worst possible circumstances. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I’m wishing you were home to have answered the phone. I’ll tell you what I can now and write the rest to you later. The short version is that Roddy was off visiting a friend at his apartment. Alexis had gone into town to get some things for dinner, so L---- and I were left alone.

I watched Alexis drive off. Roddy had been gone for maybe 30 minutes at that point. When she was down the road, I turned to L---- and asked him how he’d like to pass the time, if there was any way I could bring some joy into his life. You should have seen him beaming, a smile spreading across his face, dimples in his chin, eyes sparkling. I walked up to him and began to unbutton his shirt, working my way down from the top, pulling the shirt tail from his pants and grabbing a nipple through his t-shirt. From there, it was kissing, and pulling off each other’s clothes as we stumbled to the couch. I’ll leave it to you to imagine what all else we were doing. I was atop L-----, enjoying myself while he was enjoying me, when the door opened behind us. It was Roddy. He took a few steps into the room and stopped, slack jawed, eyes wide, frozen, maybe not believing what he was seeing, not understanding it, not wanting to accept it, but there we were, nearly naked, but frozen ourselves. My heart sank when our eyes met. I felt L----- go soft inside me as he too saw Roddy and looked him in the eye. Roddy’s eyes flicked back and forth between mine and his father’s, a despairing look, a panicked look, a desperate look overtaking his visage. And like that, he was gone. He turned, bolted out the door, and slammed it behind him. I climbed down off L-----.

I asked him what should we do, what could we do? He looked at me, almost as dumb-founded as Roddy was as he stared at us, no doubt shock and disbelief intermingling as he strove to make sense of what his eyes were telling him. He had no answers. He sat up on the couch, putting his head in his hands, leaning forward, silent. What do we do? I asked again. His head simply shook, not leaving its resting place in his hands. He was at as great a loss as me. I had this feeling things would and could only get worse. I’ll tell you more when I have some time and I can sort things out somewhat.