Time is making it easier to deal with not seeing Teddy Bear, though I’ll always think about her and wonder about what happened. I still don’t see how something I wrote could get her in trouble. I’m the one who has to pay for other people’s actions, remember? I’m still pretty sure she changed her mind. If she’d either lost my number or didn’t get my letter, that’d be one thing, but to have lost the number and not gotten my letter? I don’t think so.

As much as I would’ve loved for her to keep her word and come see me, I realize that seeing her could’ve been a bad thing. With my being attracted to her and my having feelings for her, I could’ve been torn between her and Tom, not that I’d have left Tom. I still believe he’s the only one who could ever accept me as I am and deal with our living arrangements as he has. That’s where I’m glad he’s not your typical red-blooded man, or else the not sleeping together wouldn’t fly with him so well.

Anyway, I guess I’m meant to be both faithful and celibate, but that’s okay. I can live with it for I have Teddy Bear in my fantasies and she’ll always be in my memory.

With the way I’m so fed up with society as a whole, I think to myself, just as soon as some bitch or some cock pisses me off bad enough or threatens to kick my ass in a place where I have no visits from Tom or commissary to lose, you’re going to lose it like never before. After so many years of being held back for various reasons, you’re going to explode on them so badly. They’re gonna think they can flatten you cuz you’re short, and you’re going to show them that no they can not just step right on you and snap you in half as if you were merely a twig.

Then I tell myself, no you won’t. You’ll sit there and you’ll take it and you won’t fight back. You’ll make up some excuse as to why you didn’t fight back, you’ll send them the wrong message, they’ll take advantage of you, they’ll get away with fucking you over, and God will see to it that you suffer just because you thought of fighting back while he protects and worships the ground your perpetrators walk on. And no, you wouldn’t have nothing to lose if you did fight back. You’d get in hot water somehow cuz you know you can’t get away with shit. You’re punished with other people’s evil deeds as well as for things you didn’t even do, so you sure as hell would be made to pay for things you did do, even if the person deserved what they got from you.

Words cannot express how frustrated and angry I am at God for protecting anyone who ever did me wrong. People have beaten me, stolen from me, lied to me and so much more, yet they never ever had to pay the consequences for it. I’m not saying they should all be thrown in jail, I’m just saying that it’s rather sad to know that while people are walking away from murder, I’m paying for stupid, piddly-assed shit. I pay for other people’s hatred, vindictiveness, stupidity, misunderstanding, incompetence and greed, but who pays for wronging me?

I look out my office window. I see a tiny portion of the house two lots away and I wonder? Am I one day going to fall victim to its occupants for 7 years while I’m completely powerless to do a damn thing about it? And all because they might think I look too Jewish or because they have connections in law enforcement?

As I learned the hard way time and time again – I don’t have to go looking for trouble. Trouble does a fine enough job of finding me on its own.

There are about 250 million people in the US. I figure about 80 million of them are black. Wouldn’t it be oh so awesome if one by one, they could all drop dead?! I’d settle for just a few million. And they could up and die suddenly too, for no apparent reason, leaving the surviving blacks baffled and fearing they’ll be next.

I thought about typing myself a threatening letter supposedly from them, but it wouldn’t do me any good. First of all, it could be determined that the printer that printed the thing lives in this house. Also, unless it was the last piece from the package, it could be determined that the paper came from this house. Even if they couldn’t prove it was my paper and my printer that printed it, all they’d do is say, “Well, we couldn’t find any fingerprints, they say they didn’t do it, so there’s nothing we can do.”

Of course, I know they wouldn’t do anything even if they did have physical evidence. Between God and the Jew-hating law enforcement officials that can’t believe non-whites would fuck over a white person and don’t want to, there’s simply no revenge and no justice in this case. They won. They won in Phoenix and they won in Maricopa.

Anyway, Tom tried to set up IM software so Justin and I could do instant messages, but it wouldn’t work. Also, I don’t think I dig the idea of swapping messages with an 11-year-old kid. I have enough mixed emotions about Paula as it is. I mean, I do care about her or else I wouldn’t write her or send her dolls, and I know she can’t help being the way she is, but I get sick of the flakiness. When I think about it, though, she’s never done me any harm, so associating with her can’t hurt. Besides, she’s all the way on the other side of the country. It’s not like we’re neighbors. It’s the little things that bug me. An example of that is how I asked her to let me know when she gets the packages, though they won’t be mailed for another week or two, and she said she would. I know better, though. I won’t hear about them either way till one of us catches the other by phone, though maybe Justin will mention it. It’s no biggie, though. I mean, I’d rather have to wait to find out if she got the dolls and what she thought of them than to have Jew-hating blacks and Hispanics playing their music for us, trashing our yard, then ultimately getting me tossed in jail to be led on by someone I end up crushing on.

I was so, so crushed out on her! We just didn’t have enough time together in the end there. Our time together, in the end, went too fast. How I wish we’d established our little thing for each other sooner than we did! I’m sure we both liked each other pretty much from the get-go; I just wish we’d known it.

Back to the dolls - it’s a damn good thing they don’t have a conscious, the poor dolls. It may sound mean to say this, but those dolls would be so miserable if they did. Instead of being in a nice, spacious modern house, they’re going to be in a cold, damp, small, old and ugly place, having to hear Paula, Justin and God knows how many other people, screaming and yelling about this and that.

Later…

Justin said he saw the pictures, but Paula didn’t. I’m not surprised. Paula’s always so wrapped up in her own little world. One kind of has to feel sorry for her, though. Her life’s been the same as long as I can remember and it doesn’t look like it’s ever going to change.

I’m hearing more thunder this evening, but seeing fewer clouds. Tom said they said it could storm tonight, but I don’t know yet if it will.

During the daytime, I hear this squeaking sound that I figured was some bird doing a weird chirp, but I learned today that it’s the prairie dogs making the noise. I noticed I was hearing a lot more of it these last 2 or 3 months. It’s always the same pitch that lasts for a second. It was really weird, though, cuz I saw a prairie dog do it while it ate lettuce in front. It’d munch away, then open its mouth to emit a squeak, then eat some more, let out another squeak, and so on and so forth.