Preston

600 calories. Gary at the gym. 87.2 kilos.

Hard to get to sleep last night. Keyed up.

Was in a good mood at the gym, even though I was tired. I feel a freedom from the issue that has been running around my mind. Some peace of mind, even if it leads to the end of things with S., who was looking for a pretext for quite a while.

In part I suppose because of the relief I was able to work for almost all of the morning completing a section of the California story. Got Preston off the phone and into the bed. But the poor fellow remains an example of sexual frustration.

Gone

Gym. 87.5 kilos (no idea how that could be, unless it was a full digestive track)

Work. Discussion of Bridget Jones. Minus 35 degrees ... most everybody complaining.

I wrote and sent what S. would call my "blackmail" message. She replied very angry.

Then arrived home. Immediately S was on the messenger. Who was "them"? I finally expressed all the anxiety of the long year of 2004, how she tormented me. Bicker, bicker. And then the mystery was solved in a moment of insight. Why - I had done it, myself. It was so weird. The obvious solution -- it kicked me in the nuts as I was explaining in my last pleading crescendo of despair for S to explain all the inconsistencies between what I knew to be true and what she insisted on. And then I realized -- all was explained if I caused it and didn't discover it. And so it is. S is to consult with her medical texts. We talked for a long time. She is still peeved with me. I felt emboldened by the exhaustion and the release to deny that the thing with **** had "just happened". Funny -- we have been on best manners for 18 months and now finally all the masks have slipped a bit.

She said she thinks I like R's body better than hers. So ironic as the reason I refuse to let S go is because I want to drink the nectar of her body again and again. It is a thing of absolute beauty. And, frankly, with all this work and frustration and anxiety and heartache I deserve it!

Long Day

Gym okay. 86.25 kilos.

Very odd, had little appetite today, despite all the exercise.

Two long talks on messenger with S. During the second she went over in more detail some of the stuff with ****. She is quite peeved with me, given the one thing I can not accept. The barn is burning, the smoke is in the breath of those watching. The countryside is barren and empty.

Hockey, Finally

Well, I had a funny chat with R tonight on Yahoo messenger. First time we have spoken in quite a while. And she was being quite angry and not saying much and then, out of the blue she said:

listen Rick
here's the deal
i may be having sex with another
but it wont matter to u
cos I want a baby again with u
and
we can have sex
is that ok?

This position was modified so that she would simply get pregnant with another local fellow and have the second child without my involvement if I made any fuss, or put forward any conditions of my own. Plus she doesn't want to get married to me. Plus, she won't come to Canada, not even to get pregnant. As the discussion went on, more and more conditions came out. It was a bit odd.

I had to run over to Overlander Sports to get straps for my shinguards for hockey while this discussion was going on with Ranu.

Then, just as I was about to go out the door, S. came on line. I hadn't noticed at first. Then, when I contacted her, she said she was talking to her Dad. Might have been. Or it might have been ****.

So, then off to hockey.

It is funny. My hockey bag tells a tale: first of all, the last time I used it was to go down to Yelapa to visit Deb in March of 2002 (who prefered and prefers Mexico over Alaska, hot weather over cold weather). It still has the Airtransat tag on it. Secondly, I haven't actually used the gear at all for about 10 years, and that was only a time or two with the boys at Bonaparte in '93 or '94. Similarly, I played a game or two with the boys in Inuvik in the early '90s. Otherwise, it was way back in the '80s at SFU that I last played with any regularity. With Perry Lofstrum and Buchannan and Mario and Peter the speedy accountant (who I saw later in Kamloops, oddly enough).

The bag is heavy. I had to walk to the arena. It is about minus 22 below right now, but luckily no wind at all, so it is not unpleasant out. I am wearing my insulated winter snow boots. Which are odd in that they feel kind of like great big slippers. They don't fit your feet very tightly. There are two separate bits to them, including an inner insulated thing that can come right out of the boot, if necessary.

I had to walk three blocks over to Franklin Street. It is the main street and has lots of car traffic on a Saturday night around dinner time. It is just after 5:00 pm and it is fully dark. I shift the bag over the other shoulder at Franklin and turn left, and walk along Franklin for about a dozen blocks, past the Northen United Place (which has the United church, and past the offices of landlord - Northern Property, and past the ball field, and around a corner, and past a gas station and then to the CBC building -- and the rink and the pool are across the street. So I made it there. That was the first victory.

I met the fellow Hendrik right away and he was pleasant. I was first on the casual list I think and anyway, when 5:45 came around I was able to get dressed and play.

It went okay. But I got quite winded. I was short of breath at times and had to spit up quite a bit of stuff when I was on the bench. I got quite tired and I hadn't really tightened my skates up very well and they were already playing when I got onto the ice, so I didn't really have any time to adjust my skates. So as the game went on my skating detoriated a bit I suppose.

But I did fine, scored a couple of goals and generally wasn't out of place. However, my defensive work, the backchecking, really suffered because of my tiredness. And so I felt like I wasn't really playing.

Then, after the hockey was over, I had a shower at the rink as I was drenched in sweat. Only 10 players aside, so I got lots of ice-time. Then I had to walk back home. The bag felt heavier on the way back. The moon is almost full tonight and it made a bit ring in the half clouds that are filling the absolutely calm air.

A fellow in the dressing room commented on my old skates, which I got in around 1977 or so.

So, lots of exercise today! And off to the gym in the morning.

Shirt Off

Slept in a bit after getting up at 4:00 am in order to scan the cyber world with my web cam. Not productive, however. Went back to sleep and then got up at 9:30 am, was somewhat behind schedule going to the gym. Still got in the 600 calories. Now wandering around the apartment with my coffee with my shirt off wondering if I should have a shower, WO, do the dishes, or vacuum. So I turned on the computer.

86.65 kilos. good.

Now, I need to write more often at home. On the California novel. Also on the story/novel "defending Hitler". Preston is just hanging up the phone with Marianne in his bed, the dog asleep on the floor. I need to find the emotional groove to write in; it is a bit like a trance. It is odd.

Still no response from S. Is this a cold shoulder? Is this indifference? I just don't know. I bought a 6/49 lottery ticket and a $20 long distance phone card.

Going to hockey tonight. Lots of funny associations with that, like me and my Dad, and the old Boundary Bay airport rink, and colitis and anxiety, and the heart-in-your-face physical exertion of it. And the beauty, in rare moments, of the game itself. Like in the story I wrote about the boxer.

Walked Past

Went to the gym this morning. Did my 600 calories, which seems for some reason to be getting harder and harder to do. Then, on the way back to the change room, I walked by the scale without weighing myself, which is a bit odd, as that is the best part of the whole process, where I get some reinforcement if the weight has gone down and get frightened into doing more if the weight is not going down.

Walking in the morning summer sun up Commercial Drive to the Spartacus Gym was better than walking through the snow and cold and dark here in Yellowknife.

Spend most of the day working on the California novel. It is going well, I think. At times I have to stop and write it more slowly, to try and put the scarf on the chair. But even being able to work three or four hours a day on it it is still slow. But I am not getting stopped: the flow always continues. Allah Akbar.

No work at work. It is very odd.

Yesterday, I had quite a long talk with S. and then she sent me a message later. Then the internet didn't work, so then late last night it did, so I was able to send her a message -- one that dealt with a lot of stuff, important stuff; plus, wisely or not, I sent one of ****'s messages to me from september. Today, no response from S. This irritates me somewhat.

Not Working

Stupid cable internet stopped working again for about 6 hours.

86.9 kilos.

Post from A on tickle, from the midst of her journal writing trip one presumes, or perhaps on her return.

Long chat with S on the telephone. Homing in on the state. Wonder if I can get a BMW as a rental car?? Message from S.

Output

Well, S. got my long paper letter. Also, I sent a long email to her first thing in the morning saying a bunch of stuff. All triggered off by the "forgiveness" thing. Chatted briefly at lunch hour with S. Not a big reaction to all that I said in either the letter or today's inpromptu message. But a kiss to me at the end. So, who knows. Maybe I am struggling simply to get back to the surface of all this, like some struggling swimmer far underwater. Maybe if I ever do get back to the top and grab a gulp of air, then I can walk away. Maybe, maybe. Don't know.

I guess she loved me so strong, if very briefly, that I can't let go. I am a rat in a Skinner cage, hitting the button again and again, waiting for the reward that once was produced so readily.

Steak for dinner. And salad.

87.1 kilos.

Pictures of Heather's baby. Healthy little fellow. In a proper crib or bassinet thing, unlike poor Lucas.

Jackson Browne, Pretender.

Writing today at work. Writing about the fall of Preston into depression, or into the verge of it, the prenumbra; have to wait until later to see if it was any good, but it worked in one way: thinking so hard of that feeling of the hollowness of everything I managed to create it within myself. Congratulations Rick.

Called Christopher to pass on the complaints from the nice lady renting out a basement suite to him. He was groggy from waking up.

Want to figure out what State S. is getting married in so I can buy road maps so I can drive her to her teaching hospital afterwards in either Illinois or Alabama.

Looking Back

So, A. is on her journey down south and back to Mumbai to take a job or other at the beginning of December. I wonder if she took a journal to write in?

S said that because I hadn't mentioned **** that therefore she thought I had forgiven her. Which is startling to me. That she could have become so unhappy to want to reject me, thinking I hadn't forgiven her. This is so far wrong as I never felt agrieved, at least not like some sort of property owner. I was astonished that she threw **** over (at least temporarily) and called me very late at night to tell me everything. Or most everything. No, I felt lucky that she loved me that much. The missing ***** irritated me, not because of what it meant, but because it was not accepted and explained. One feels so foolish when something becomes so blatant it can not be ignored no matter how absent minded one is, but still the other person clings to so demonstrably false story -- it is so aggravating and so unnecessary. But the point here -- the very important point -- is that I can not lose her because she thinks I can not forgive her. What can I do? I am afraid of losing her.

Another Day

Reading the Mackenzie Valley Resource Management Act at work. Lots of fun.

Wearing my balaclava to keep my face warm. Minus 22 or 23. Cold enough for me.

Long chat on MSN with S. -- was good. Almost like old times. She said something about forgiveness. I'm not understanding totally.

Finished the Keats Book

There is a movie in the strange "Mrs. Jones" that bumps into Keats a number of times. Takes him to her apartment in Queen's Square (have to go there if I ever go to London again).

Spoke to S. for 90 minutes tonight. She is counting on going to the USA next year.

Home internet hasn't been working since Wednesday.

Heather had her baby. Hurray!

Realized Later

It is funny how you hear things and only later grasp the real importance of what was said. On the telephone last night S. told me about how she had been meeting a friend at a KFC (or McDonalds) a bigger location apparently, and there was an upstairs, and she had to ask for the washroom and was sent upstairs, and she had to ask an Indian man upstairs for directions. And this man said, "Where are you from? You must be from India, you look like a Bollywood actress." This story was meant to be an illustration of the attention S. gets from men. Which is very true. And that's all I took it for. At the time.

But S. doesn't have any friends in London. If she was meeting one of her flatmates (who she doesn't really get along with) she would have used a name. So, in summary, she went out someplace to meet someone and got complimented by an Indian man. Most likely, I conclude, that she was meeting a man or the family of a man, who can help her with her immigration plans.

But I don't know for sure, of course. And I'm too afraid to ask lest it be interpreted as "interrogation". And I don't really mind what she has to do -- more like I am resigned to it I suppose -- but I hate the fact that it will develop in secrecy and then overpower my life. The "Broken Promises" e-mail from July which upset me so much may well turn out to be just a little premature: the real thing may be developing now. I wish I knew. It would be better to have the thing unfold gradually.

Wrote to ShAn. Appears I have two addresses for her, maybe.

Got the Hugh Wooding papers from Ranu. Expensive.

Had an interesting chat on MSN with A., talked about the editing of questionaire that I had completed for her. She more or less apologized for having done that. She said that J (who signed in from his office in the midst of the conversation) knew about the real answer.

Keats Read

To the gym again; 87.6 kilos -- proper direction at last! Weather milder than yesterday.

Message to Sherry-Ann. Put POS weather in my favourites, along with London and Yellowknife.

Wonder if Heather has had her baby yet.

Reading life of Keats. Very interesting.

Need to go to Canadian Tire. 40 below boots are on sale.

Could use some Tantra-in-the-Jungle, or any other place for that matter.

Message back from S. Not too bad. She avoids the question of when we shall next meet, but there is no benefit for me to raise the issue. Have picked out 10 days in May when I can get a cheapish flight to London (not counting the cost to get to Yellowknife to Edmonton and back on the return). Wonder how the other girls are coping with the cessation of the medical training?

Started another new novel. Spurred by the phrase from the Eagles, "You can hear the engine ring" ... being the indicator of things going majorly wrong. Haven't given up on the second novel. Writing the scene about the comtemplation of desire under a California tree in a Californian front yard. Like it, I think. Won't know for sure for about 15 years or so.

Contemplation

Went to the gym this morning. Minus 21, so it is much colder than yesterday. Did 600 calories on the eliptical machine. 88.2 kilos on the scale. Put a bit of ice on my left knee when I got home for the first time in a while, but not real bad.

I have many wine glasses in my cupboard. Don't need them, very rarely use them, but still there they are. Story behind some. Others I can't remember where they came from.

Yesterday I contacted S first when I saw her come on line. It wasn't that loneliness had defeated my resolve to not communicate for thirty days (deadline was Nov 24th), but rather I became worried that she might think I was, when we were both online at the same time, snubbing her ("cutting" as VS Naipaul might say). Brief chat, then I had to walk back to work.

I have written a letter with a proposal of marriage. For a friend of R's in Trinidad. She has a most beguiling figure, which she attempts to mostly conceal by dressing modestly, and I think she is very conventional and stable. She is 40 years old, never married. Anyway, no reason why she should be interested in a proposal of marriage from me, but there is no harm in making it and, of course, I do believe that a marriage with this women could be a good one.

I am alone a great deal of the time here in Yellowknife. But it doesn't seem to be making me as lonely as I feared it might. Wait, I suppose, for the literally dark days of December and January. Going to the office most days and dealing with the people there helps I'm sure.

Another Housecoat Day

Office was closed today for Rememberance Day; more importantly, so was the gym. Getting a bit hard to breath, almost.

Yesterday, I mailed the long paper letter to S. 10 pages. filled up the last page with handwriting. $1.50 for the stamp. Hope it will get to her before November 24th.

Spent the morning in front of the computer in my housecoat.

In the afternoon, I walked partway down the hill to old town down by Great Slave Lake. Not all that far but I haven't even been down there yet. But I will go all the way down there soon.

Then back to send another copy of the Trinidad travel piece to Odessa.

Then long message to Gosh explaining the interest in Indian woman and other things.

Listening to Coltrane on the cd player. Gee, this listening to all the cds in the machine one after another without any chance to pick is a good idea.

Dark here before 5:00 pm.

Verge

Very pregnant Heather provided her home e-mail today. No baby yet.

Went to the gym, watching my breath in the cold air -- that's respiration, the burning of stuff and the result is water vapor out my mouth. A good deal more of that and I will be slender. 88 kilos. Just continue, it will be okay.

Now, I need to mail off the letter to S., the paper letter. Can't be more than 10 pages. Want it to get there before November 24th. Read it over tomorrow. Take out the bits about why she said love is always gushy in the beginning. Think it means she was gushy over F as well. The immigration angle is probably underway but I am being kept uninformed. Just as well.

O. asked a question about the movie, Passion of the Christ. Then lingerie.

Another Day

Went to the gym this morning; 595 calories; 87.6 kilos.

Had to use the downstairs laundry because the washer on this floor was jammed. Turns out the dryer there works much better.

Working on the Trinidad travel piece. Trouble is that I am having to take out more and more in order to get the word limit below the 2,500 word limit. All the things I want to say more about are getting deleted -- it is going against my inclination to write things out, to write them into more and more detail, into the truthfulness of the quitodian. Now, the question is whether or not I will get down to a simple gem of something to say about the time in September that might be worthwhile. It tends to get more personal.

Trying to explain to R what is simple about babies and parents, etc.

Had a coffee with Emerald from law school, who also works for GNWT in Yellowknife.

Had a door-to-door person from Human Resources Canada doing some sort of survey on charitable giving.

6:15 am

For some reason I woke up early. Might have been too hot in the apartment.

Spoke to A on Messenger. Was I nasty before? Maybe. Maybe indignant would be a better word? Not sure.

600 hundred calories on the elipitical machine at the gym. My face was cold in the wind. Yuck.

Talking to R.

Found all the dozens and dozens of e-mails I printed out before leaving Ratcliff. Reading and sorting them. Many to and from S. Found the original of the answer to A's questionaire.

Made curried chicken, finished Texasville by Larry McMurty.

New

Okay -- I'm unpacking the three boxes of books I didn't unpack before, but I can't actually get very far as I keep putting books to one side, or sitting down to read a few pages, instead of just putting them on a bookshelf. Some examples: Hegel's Philosophy of History, Shakespeare's Sonnets, and a book about nationalism in Canada called Is Blood Thicker Than Water? by J M. McPherson. I guess its not surprising that I find these books interesting as I pull them out of the box as I found each of them interesting enough to buy at one point or another. Some of the books actually remind me of the bookstore where I got them.

Went to the gym this morning; 88.8 kilos still. (gained weight in Inuvik it seems)

No Hockey Night In Canada tonight, which is too bad as it is a placemark in my Saturdays, even if I don't ever watch the entire game. In fact, I mostly want to catch Don Cherry.

Want to get a biography of Keats. I was very interested in seeing his house with S back in September.

Feel kind of sluggish. Should have vacummed; should have walked over to Canadian Tire and bought a hockey helmet. Should have continued on with the California novel (after going good on it in Inuvik), and should have finished up the Trinidad traveling writing for the CBC literary Awards.

Back

Back from Inuvik (my old home-town). Went to the gym this morning and discovered that I gained weight while away (no exercise in Inuvik). 88.8 kilos.

Continuing the long letter to S.

Mom had her sinus operation.