[Posted by Miles]
It appears that not only have I not been upholding my self-professed duty to provide consistent daily updates, but that my so-far-only entry has, through the mysterious workings of Movable Type, disappeared into the digital ether. Nevertheless we shall move on. Dear reader, let's (as I have had to beg too often these past few days) give it another chance.
Getting dumped has very few upshots. One is channeling the collective pity of your friends into an all-you-can-manage-to-consume buffet of free drinks. Another is the meaningless pity sex that one can acquire by putting off a vibe of Deep Romantic Tragedy that suggests a sense of the profound and a deep reserve of pent-up emotion that can't be expressed in words but can be expressed in hot fuck styles.
I am getting neither of these.
Problem One: At any given moment I have probably three friends that care about my problems to warrant any kind of pick-me-up boozy bro-downifying. One of these friends is in Albuquerque, NM. One is jaunting daintily about Western Europe.
One of them just dumped my ass.
Problem Two: While random rebound sex would probably take my mind off of my current situation more effectively than cable television and working on weapons-grade Elliott Smith/Leonard Cohen playlists, I'm really not interested in the least. Problem Two, Sub-Problem A: My current emotional state suggests less a wounded-but-poetic lover wandering the streets of Paris than someone who has just woken up to find themselves lost in the weeds-and-concrete wasteland of Flint, Michigan. I'm not exactly feeling like a prime catch.
One positive aspect of brokenheartedness that I can make use of is that getting dumped hits the reset button on your sense of musical jadedness better than anything on earth, with the exception of two hits of liquid Orange Sunshine. Before my last big break-up I thought I "got" Mary J. Blige, but it took getting kicked out of my house so my then-girlfriend could hook up with our roommate for me to really understand what "No more drama in my life / No one's gonna make me hurt again" really means, and to make it my mantra. Unfortunately I'm stuck listening to the latest batch of promos from my mailbox and a stack of thrift-store finds bought on the basis of promising album covers. So I've got Destroyer's Your Blues, which is heavy on hypothesising what would happen if Bowie never let his sense of decency keep him from doing ever more fey Jaques Brel covers, and Bloodrock's2, which is just so much shit. If anyone has any suggestions of music made for the shattered soul, there is a "comments" link underneath these words. I'm not touching the Johnny Cash box set because I don't want to use up all of my minutes on suicide hotlines.