A Dirty Business This Thing Called Love

Now somewhere in the black mining hills of Dakota
There lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon
And one day his woman ran off with another guy

Rocky burst in and grinning a grin
He said Danny boy this is a showdown
But Daniel was hot-he drew first and shot
And Rocky collapsed in the corner.

Deadwood, South Dakota
Late Fall, `75

C.S. and I were getting along, but not great. A distance separated us
like never before. After one particular nasty argument, I became so
frustrated that when the mail came, I opened a letter sent to her by
her girlfriend back in Michigan. Opening other people’s mail was a
terrible thing to do, but I was desperate. I thought maybe I would
find a clue that would help me figure out what the hell was going on.
After reading it, not only did I discover that C.S. had been carrying
on a love letter correspondence with her old boyfriend, Rick, she also
had plans to leave me and return to Michigan. I was stunned. I sat
down and drank a couple of beers. When she came home, of course she
was outraged that I had opened her letter, but she denied nothing.
Apparently she had given a lot of thought to what she had planned, and I was coming in on the tail end of it. All of a sudden I felt sick,
and I was absolutely certain that my sickness would get worse before
it got better.

When I found out she was leaving, it was late September. She wouldn’t
(or couldn’t) tell me when she was leaving, though. She used her leaving as a  “carrot on a stick approach” to our relationship. I got progressively more agitated; we hardly had a civil word to say to one another. Finally, in mid November, I moved out of 5 Cliff, and into the Syndicate hotel. Brad, C.S.’s cousin, had been living there since the beginning of summer. In addition to it being a cheap place to stay, the Syndicate gave me a reprieve from the inescapable mayhem and bitterness back at 5 Cliff.


About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
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