Nixon’s Skull

 
So today started out like a totally normal day. I woke up, did some writing, went to Apop Records and looked at magazines, had an hour long conversation with my boy Archer in Arizona.
 
Then, through a series of events that I simply will not get into, I ended up at a gay men’s leather bar. This experience was so uncomfortable that it simply defies simile. Being in a gay men’s leather bar is about as uncomfortable as being in a gay men’s leather bar. I mean, there’s a sign in each men’s room stall that reads: ONE PERSON AT A TIME. VIOLATORS WILL BE ASKED TO LEAVE.
 
I didn’t stay long. I decided to go to South City Diner and read a book, convinced that this night could get no weirder. Had I parked closer to the Diner, it probably wouldn’t have. I, however, parked way up the street. I was walking down Grand toward CBGB’s and I see this really cute girl staring at me from half a block away. Now, I know I’m sexy, but I ain’t all that sexy, so I figure this girl must think she knows me. I’m looking at her and thinking, “She looks kinda like Worst Relationship of My Life… Wait a second. That is Worst Relationship of My Life!” Or as she is more commonly known, Rosemary Malign of Trash & Suicide.
 
She invites me to have drink with her and her husband, and since I was born without the part of your brain that tells you not to stick a fork in a toaster, I say “Sure.”
 
The great thing about my relationship with Rosemary is that it was fucked up on so many levels that every couple of years when I see her, I find out something new and horrible about our relationship that I didn’t know at the time. This forces me to re-evaluate the relationship and everything I’ve thought about it since. Tonight was no exception. Luckily I’m in this Zen state where such things roll of my back.
 
We actually had a really good conversation. I got along with her husband, Johnny, really well. I’m actually kinda over getting along with my ex’s husbands/boyfriends. I mean, had I met Olga’s husband under any other circumstances than us both fucking the same woman I’m pretty sure we’d be BFFs. I even thought about setting him up with my sister.
 
Here’s the thing about Rosemary that pisses me off. This girl has something. You know, the way that people say Bill Clinton has something? She has it to. I don’t know what it is. Here’s the girl who fucked me up as much as anybody’s ever fucked me up – and I’ve been fucked up by people who fuck shit up for a living – and yet, I’m looking into her eyes and thinking, “Damn, if this chick wasn’t married and I wasn’t already a thousand percent convinced that she is the worst person on the planet for me, I’d be so into her.”
 
While we were talking she asked, “Am I gonna read about this on your blog?” And I said, “No way!”
 
Well… I was lying. Which almost makes us even. 

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