Alan Moore, �V for Vendetta�
For the first time since I started this project back in 2002, I reread a book � specifically, this one. Though I suppose it doesn�t really count as I first read this about seven years ago, so it�s not messing up my author list. Seeing as I only have about 15 books left that I haven�t read and I no longer work in a used bookstore making it much easier to catch up, it�s not going to be long before I�ll be going back to old favorites, which I�m rather excited about. But I decided to read this because of the movie to remind myself of the general story line, since I�ve read probably a thousand books since and couldn't really remember what the hell it was about. Now I�m just waiting for the film to hit the cheapo theater so I can compare.
As of eight hours ago, that was really all I planned on saying about this book. Most of you have probably seen the movie by now or at least read up on the hype surrounding it, so what more is there to say? I also planned on mentioning that if you took my invitation to come visit seriously, you may want to rethink your travel plans.
Remember the sewage dumping in the canal that heads out into Waikiki? No? Really? It was only two entries ago. I made the crack about the 20,000 rubber ducks dumped in the toxic stream for a race for charity? Still doesn�t ring a bell? Did you get dropped on your head as a child? Or maybe more recently?
Anyway, I bring this up because the canal had its vengeance, killing a local resident after he was beat up and thrown into the water near the boat harbor that separates Waikiki from Ala Moana beach park. The various cuts, say local medical officials, allowed the flesh eating bacteria to enter his system.
Approximately three days later the man was in intensive care whereupon his body went into septic shock, shutting down major organs and putting him in a comatose state. After being placed on life support, doctors amputated his left leg. They feared they would have to amputate more limbs, when his family disconnected the life support. His funeral was yesterday.
Still wanna come visit?
But you know, that�s not the reason I got up at six this morning and started typing. Something was bothering me from last night and it invaded my dreams, finally making me wake up in a funk, and I thought I�d get up to write it all down to try and purge the demons. Now that I wrote all that stuff above, I don�t really feel bad anymore. I mean, really, how dare any of us complain about a shitty day after reading about that poor guy?
So I feel better. And it only took one person dying to do it. I�m such a prick.
And it was feeling like a prick that motivated me to hit the keyboard. As it turns out, probably a surprise to no one, I have an issue with harboring resentment to an almost unhealthy level. That�s what affected my mood and my dreams last night.
I�ll probably never really be able to talk about it here. This site is too public and shares too many mutual acquaintances. Suffice to say that I keep thinking the issues between my most recent ex-girlfriend and myself are resolved in my head. Because I want them to be. She�s a good person who made some shitty decisions and dug a trench between us because she didn�t know how to talk to me. I can accept that.
Still, every time I think I�ve hit some area of closure and think about contacting her to rebuild the shattered friendship, which I would like, my resentment spark flashes bright and hot. Some would say that�s to be expected, but I think the problem is that she seems happy now, and there�s some small, petty, part of me that doesn�t want her to be happy, just because of what happened.
Like I said, I�m a prick. I�m working on that.
As an initiation to change that behavior, I sent out an email to the last girl who done me wrong, the one mentioned in numerous entries here, usually referred to as �The crazy ex-girlfriend.� She contacted me several times over the years and I always told her that I had no interest in talking to her ever again.
I still don�t, which I explained, but I remember her once saying, �it�s hard to know that there is somebody who hates you.� So I told her that�s not the case with me anymore.
And it only took me eight years to say that. I doubt I�ll be getting any Good Samaritan awards.
But I�m trying.
