Thu, 19 May 2005

goodnight, agents of satan
Dave(2) no longer works at that store in the mall. He left his wife a few years ago and sees his kids on Christmas and the Fourth of July. He moved into the apartments by where Jezebel used to live and is a sysadmin for a bail bondsman service across the street from the jail, right next door to that Bosnian bar we went to last time you were in town. I didn’t even realize they’d even need a sysadmin and apaprently Dave(2) says they don’t, really, but they haven’t realized that yet, so he’s sitting pretty good all things considered. His brother Steven is a cop, and that’s how he got the job. Steven was always more responsible, but not like in a bad way, like he used to buy us beer in high school, he’s a good guy, he can just keep things together better. Steven’s on his second wife and I think she’s about to go, if what Dave(2) says holds any water, but maybe he just wants a divorce buddy. That’s kinda how he is. Sometimes we end up talking about it but I mean I haven’t even smooched a girl in ten years, so what do I know about marriage? That said, it’s one of my lesser hobbies to talk about shit I do not even remotely understand, so I’m always giving Dave(2) advice. You could say (if you were of a disposition to be cynical) that I’m using Dave(2) as my divorce guinea pig, betraying our friendship (and more specifically, his lack of other friends and his romanticised notion of “the old days”) by tricking him into nonideal strategies. There’s a bit of truth to that. But it’s not like I have a gun to his head or anything.

So Dave(2) calls me up last weekend and tells me he’s been talking a lot with his ex, maybe they can work something out, all this crap. I know for fact he’s not thinking clear on this, she’s about as through with him as is humanly possible, but I’m interested to see how such a plan shakes out, so I tell him that his main problem back when he was married is that he couldn’t be a provider, he was a man of reaction, a pillar of jello, and what this situation requires is decisive action and a ten-year plan. We got drinks at the Bosnian bar (I don’t think it actually has a name) and by last call his ten-year plan ended in the White House. “We must strike while the iron is hot!” I yelled, too loud, and pulled his coat to a taxi and sent him off to his wife’s new house out in Hudson.

Dave(2) called me the next morning from jail. There’s a lesson here, I bet.
(12:24.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #