Write me:
skot AT izzlepfaff DOT com

Thursday, 15 February
Thank You, Friend

Listen, do you have a minute? I . . . I think I need to talk. I've just gotta get this off my chest. You're the only one I can talk to. It's just you and me here, okay?

It's been eating me up lately . . . I've been having trouble sleeping. And I know I can trust you. Just--just keep it between us, okay?

I mean, it's nothing really bad. Not that bad. It's nothing to do with you, and if you were me, you'd, you'd have done the same thing, I think. I mean, you know Ra--you know what? No names. No fucking names. It's just--you know that guy, that guy everyone knows, who just--you're oil and water, right? Everyone knows that guy. Maybe he's a nice guy, you don't know, I don't know, maybe, but . . . it's always something, right? It's always something with that guy. It's that guy.

You'd laugh, really, how this all got started. We were at a friend's place, at a party, and you know, people are drinking and all, and then, well, all of a sudden I make this joke, and this guy is all up in my grill about it, and how it's disrespectful to women and all this, and I'm like, "It's what? You're nuts, and people laughed," but he's not having any of it and it turns into this big thing and the whole party grinds to a halt because now we're just screaming at each other, horrible crap and stuff, and the whole time there's still this part of my brain that's going, "But the whole joke was about fish." It was so stupid, but it got out of hand, and finally I just left. I told him, "Have some more Malibu, douche," and he turned red and opened his mouth, but I slammed the door before he could say anything.

It's so stupid. Shit like this. I mean . . . seriously? It's embarrassing to even tell you this. But it's been fucking bugging me all the time, after. After the . . . just after. How can you even talk about something this stupid? But it's been affecting me. I mean, I barely have seen the guy since then, just a . . . I guess a couple times or once or whatever.

I can't sleep. It's fucking me up. I wake up and I take these walks out into the woods . . . for hours, like, just walking around, 'cause I can't sleep. And you know me! I sleep like Coma Baby. But these days . . .

I don't know. It's dumb to even tell you all this. It's a big nothing. What, I had a fight with this asshole, and then later on--a stupid fight over a stupid joke?--and then later on, we have words about it again, the asshole shows up at my place to bitch and moan about this fucking thing again? What's that about?

It's actually kind of funny. He shows up at my place again, and rags on me some more about this woman joke--it was a fish joke, but he still isn't getting it--isn't that just funny? I mean, it wasn't funny at the time; I was pretty hot, but looking back, it's kind of funny. Funny-stupid. Heh. Mostly stupid. We were both sort of out of control after a while.

I don't know why this is still bugging the shit out of me, but it is. Listen, I know I'm talking your ear off--I'm sorry, but Jesus--it's bugging the hell out of me. I don't even know why I'm boring you with this.

You want to know a weird thing? I can't shower any more. I mean, yeah, I can shower, it's not like I'm physically incapable of showering, but I don't shower any more. I don't. I take these baths. I hate baths! Lying there in this you-soup. I always think about how many skin cells I'm sloughing off into the water. How is that clean? Then I think, "I'm sitting here in all this water that my balls and asshole are soaking in. In a shower, the water all runs off you, but here in a bath, I'm just brining away in asshole and ball water." It's disgusting.

But I keep taking baths! And--dude--it's not just that. They--it's kind of fucked up. They're cold baths. I run cold water and take a bath in that shit. Ice cold baths. What the hell, yeah, I know, way to be, loony bee, but I take these fucked up cold baths.

This is so stupid.

I like to dip under the water. I mean, I don't like it, so much, but I do it, for some reason. I slip under that cold water and try not to move. I know. I slip under and I lie there, and I let my mind just kind of go free and not move--not shiver or anything. Just lie there, under.

You can see why I've been kind of freaking out. I mean, all of this big nothing happened, and all of a sudden I'm behaving like . . . I don't even know who. Who does this? I don't. Or I didn't used to. But now here I am, not sleeping, taking these fucking walks out into nowhere, getting all riled up over this idiot, taking these creepy-ass baths in cold water where I'm just lying there, under the water, thinking about the calm about the under, thinking how this is cold, this is under, this is . . .

It reminds me of my walks out into the woods, too, the cold. The under. And I can't tell you how it feels when I finally run out of breath, and I break the surface of the water, gasping, up from the cold depths. It just feels . . . I don't know. It's hard to explain. Lots of times after the baths, I warm up by the fire, and then I take one of my brand-new fucked up strolls into the woods. I don't know why I feel better after all this crap. But I do.

You know what, though? Even the nighttime strolls in the forest are all the same. Two miles out, two miles back, every time, to the same spot, every time. It's cold at night, and kind of creepy and shit, but it relaxes me, two miles out, two miles back, packing down that cold humus and loam. I guess it's another ritual. I don't fucking need it, frankly, but there it is. And after all that's done, I can finally sleep for a couple hours. Better than nothing, I guess.

Man, I really went on there, didn't I? Thanks for listening, seriously. I really appreciate it. I don't think there's anyone else I could have talked to like this. So, thanks again. Christ, you know what? I feel a lot better telling you all this crap. I think I'm actually getting tired for the first time in weeks. I can't believe I let this dumb situation get so out of hand. It's really been great getting this all off my chest.

All right, I'll see you later, man. Thanks again. I think it's really helped me out. I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep. And I know I don't have to say this to you, but I'd really appreciate it, you know, if you kept this just between you and me.

Note: Comments are closed on old entries.


Put down the JD Salinger and let Holden Caulfield stay in just one novel. Please. For the love of god.

Comment number: 011980   Posted by: kerewin on February 16, 2007 12:29 AM from IP:

I need a shower ...

Comment number: 011981   Posted by: Anna on February 16, 2007 03:25 AM from IP:

What, you don't like my clumsy, ham-handed attempt at a crappy short story that I wrote in 45 minutes? You must have a damaged brain, sir or madam!

What can I say? I had zip going on and needed to dump off this idea that wouldn't leave me. Though I do like the Holden Caulfield ref. I only wish I could have pulled off something as funny as "Commander Blop."

Comment number: 011985   Posted by: Skot on February 16, 2007 07:46 AM from IP:

Was it that joke about the octopus and the bagpipe? I love that joke.

Comment number: 011986   Posted by: monk on February 16, 2007 10:11 AM from IP:

This fit my mood perfectly. I'm having that kind of day myself. Thanks, man.

Comment number: 011987   Posted by: that one girl, no names, okay? on February 16, 2007 10:13 AM from IP:

I wish I could sleep like Coma Baby.

Comment number: 011988   Posted by: Suzanne on February 16, 2007 12:09 PM from IP:

Coma Baby! You-soup!

This whole piece made me laugh so hard my eyes leaked and my wife came and looked at me in that worried way that says "I realize you've had to walk the dog in the cemertery every day for the past ten days, but WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?"

Kudos, Kurruk, kudos.

Comment number: 011991   Posted by: mike on February 16, 2007 08:24 PM from IP:

DAMMIT! Both '' AND '' have been registered by unscrupulous, un-soup-ulous DOMAIN SQUATTER FUCKS. I have sent them anonymized taunt notes with the reply-to set to this web-page. No need to thank me.

Comment number: 011992   Posted by: mike on February 16, 2007 08:28 PM from IP:

Thanks, I'm going to be dreaming about ass-water tonight. Guh.

Comment number: 011993   Posted by: Diesel on February 16, 2007 08:38 PM from IP:

I figured out you-soup when I was about 10 and haven't taken a bath since. And don't even get me started about jacuzzis!

Comment number: 012000   Posted by: Jeff on February 17, 2007 06:14 AM from IP:

Yeah, there's a hot springs near here where they rent out time in private wooden tubs of Satan brand sulfur water.

I guess that would be "them-soup"? Maybe part of the Campbell's Chunky line...

Comment number: 012002   Posted by: PMS on February 17, 2007 10:47 AM from IP:

Wow. you SHOWER FIRST. then bubble bath.Lots of.... aaahhh. Hot water...mmmmm....gotta go, you just helped me deal with that asshole professor, now I can sleep.
ps, beautiful writing.

Comment number: 012018   Posted by: Alyxmyself on February 18, 2007 07:49 PM from IP:

A fish walks into a bar...

Comment number: 012036   Posted by: Jack Bog on February 19, 2007 10:54 PM from IP:

Seriously, what was the joke, I'm dying to know. Is it the one about crossing the road? The one about dishwasher in space?

Comment number: 012046   Posted by: ReaperUnreal on February 20, 2007 11:29 AM from IP:

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