doodlemaier: (Default)
One of my brother's asshole "friends" hit my car in the driveway sometime last week. I know it happened there because I haven't driven it since returning from 1006 sometime last Sunday evening, preferring to take the bicycle in to work these days. It's not a big dent but it's an expensive dent because of its location at the forward inside corner of the wheel well. And since my brother doesn't drive at 30! he has no insurance, and since he doesn't hold a regular job he has no money to pay for the repairs and his "friends" are really only there to buy dope and get drunk and high so there's zero accountability. . . well, I have no recourse at all but to fix it and leave it there for the next drunk asshole to run into.

This time last year I had multiple tree companies dump wood on 'his' ½ of the driveway. The major drawback of that tactic is that some of that shit came with carpenter ants, etc. and I'm not thrilled with the idea of a driveway full of wood for a year, either. The police aren't interested in his operation unless I really press the issue with them, a solution which only creates more problems for him than he already has, not to mention, amplifies the divisive quality of an already tenuous relationship that I have with brother.

I haven't taken the matter up with him yet, and I'm interested in what he has to say. Although I'm expecting the usual passive aggressive avoidance and denial; the same way he deals with everything. Why is it that I always have to make changes in my life to deal with the bullshit of others? How did Timothy Leary put it, how did he articulate what Scott has discovered and understands so directly, if not consciously:
Sickness rules:

"A maladjusted person with a crippled set of reflexes tends to overdevelop a narrow range of one or two interpersonal responses expressed intensely and often, whether appropriate to the situation or not. When two individuals interact, the 'sicker' person determines the relationship. The more extreme and rigid the person, the greater hir interpersonal 'pull' - the stronger hir ability to shape the relationship with others."

Or maybe I'm being cynical and maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised to have Scott discover this as an opportunity to rise to the occasion.

Ah, but atrophy is the lowest common denominator upon which our current reality is based and I rather think this is the universe's subtle hint for me to begin withdrawing energy from Medford and divert that effort to 1006, to look for a driving job in the valley, or a postion in the development office at one of the universities out there, to stop cutting the grass or raking leaves, stop any kind of upkeep leaving Medford solely in Scott's care to slowly continue it's slide into atrophy until Pops is forced to sell the place to cut his losses, because Scott's too lazy/stupid/stoned to lift a finger. . .
doodlemaier: (MeanDean)
I believe that today Pops is confronting the hippies (mostly Scotty) about the pot, the state of the house and his girlfriend, [livejournal.com profile] kafrin67, (henceforth known here as Mrs. Lebowski!, and hopefully not mentioned again). H has stated her case this weekend to Pops and I really need for him to do the dirty work of giving her the throw - not because I don't want to, mind you, but because the physical property is his and therefore the authority to do so. I feel that if I were to go in there enforcing a new standard willy-nilly and 'soup nazi' style then I would be drawing a line between my brother and I, and that's counter-productive.

I have three goals while I live at Medford:
∙ Save down payment on a house
∙ Repair as much as I can, and general maintenance, on the property
∙ Help Scotty get his shit together in as much as he's open and 'coachable'
And each of these initiatives stand directly in the way of Mrs. Lebowski's steady weed supply and flop house/commune fantasy. I've really got to hand it to Mr. P, a guy who doesn't have the sense to wear shoes over his socks when he goes out in public, and is a general pain in the ass when he's (frequently) wound up, he has really helped me to realize the gravity of what goes on between them - because Mrs. Lebowski, up until now, has been very careful to watch her behavior around me, and I've warned her that I'm not going to stand for the white trash yelling and screaming bit. Mike has this obsession with helping Scotty get his act together, which is what all the organizing and phone messages were about, and is privy to a lot of the things that the hippies actively keep hidden as much as they can and the abuse patterns that I simply don't have the temporal capacity to piece together - and I really appreciate his help and concern. Between he, H, Pops, and I we are a unified front to straighten things up around there, and it's a cryin' shame that it's come to this. But the very first step is to get Mrs. Lebowski out of that house, and I can only hope that Pops can get through to Scotty today and she makes "the list". . .

She can blame H all she wants; but H and Pops have an agreement between them, she was invited and is, for all intents and purposes, 'pack'; whereas Mrs. Lebowski is none more than a guest who has long overstayed her welcome.
H draws a lot of water in this house. You don't draw shit, Mrs. Lebowski. Now we got a nice, quiet little community here, and I aim to keep it nice and quiet. So let me make something plain. I don't like you sucking around, bothering our citizens, Mrs. Lebowski. I don't like your jerk-off name. I don't like your jerk-off face. I don't like your jerk-off behavior, and I don't like you, jerk-off. Do I make myself clear?

Keep your ugly fuckin' goldbrickin' ass out of Medford!
doodlemaier: (Default)
The hippies just left with bags packed, as if they plan to be gone for a few days (I can only hope). Maybe the heat got to be too much for 'em and since their house guest just left to return to Mass. they have no further use for the place unless it's comfy and nice! Right now it's hot as shit!

Just as well. Kathrin has Scotty believing that we've turned the a/c off just to screw with them. Their minds revolve around thoughts of oppression . . . just like in that song about the hippie chick. The truth is that the a/c's been out of commish here since the flood and we've dealt with it (so far) on this side in a more economical fashion - locally, with a couple of well-placed fans. Fuck 'em if they don't trust us - they can call a technician to come out, too, yanno. It's not like their fingers are broke! (oh, nevermind, that's like. . . responsibility, and stuff. The cost of which would cut into the dope fund. There's free and abundant cool air at her parents' house.) And if they want to say something about it I'll tell them that I thought they sabotaged the condenser unit because, as we believed, they had no ducts for a/c on that side of the house and wanted to equalize the field for when we ask them to pay half the electric. But, somehow I think that the point of how stupid they come off sometimes wouldn't convey when they are so adept at projection, themselves. And you'd think they'd ask, "Dude, what's up with the a/c?"; but do they? No, they've already made up their minds that we're the assholes and we're fuckin' with them!

I guess I'm just dissappointed that a psychology major doesn't exercise a firmer grip on her own mental states when they're so apparent to the people around her.

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The exquisite itch

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