From jlarke@us.itd.umich.eduFri Oct 21 09:44:42 1994 Date: Fri, 21 Oct 1994 00:06:25 -0400 From: Jason Larke To: thari@umich.edu Subject: Ahab's diary, session 57 Well, looks like we're at D minus some and counting for my next attempt to kill someone. With my track record, that probably makes her safer than she was before. But Sand should have an interesting day, anyhow. The least I can do. Fiona is back to her teenage years again. I have never met someone so hard to reach. Even Mom would at least hit me when I got too close to something. Fiona is the sort who will just look me in the eye and tell me she doesn't want to talk about it. And even more than Mom, she can make me see when something is not negotiable. Mom and I at least have some mutual obligation. But I'm in no position to demand anything from her. I mean, I'm sometimes real good at getting to the heart of someone else's problem, but Fiona doesn't exactly want to buy into that. It must be hard to admit that being the Pattern Bitch-Queen is no defense against being fucked in the head. Me, I've been fucked in the head all my life, so it doesn't matter so much. Lyss and I are back to being friends. I guess that's all I can hope for. The sad thing is that I'd like to be her father. She's a good person, and Abe was no doubt very proud of her. But it's not my place. What the hell is my place? Why do I always volunteer to be the stalking horse? I'm hardly the only person in the family who can plan. I'm not the only one willing to risk his life, and I'm not the only one with a thing for revenge. Why isn't Gerard foaming at the mouth to kill her? What worries me even more is how easy it is now. I really thought I'd be better. Throwing my life away against Rygat almost made sense- my lover was being a bitch, my mother was suicidal, and we were losing the war anyway. Now Deirdre wants to live, I have a wife and kid who presumably love me, and my first reaction to a threat is still screaming "Death before dishonor" and otherwise acting like a fool. No. There's not any point trying to pretend I don't know the answers to there questions. My entire life, there's always been some damn bitch who's willing to hit me for reasons that are hers alone. Mom, Rygat, Sand, it doesn't matter. It's not even really about bitches and hitting. It's about power. We live in a world where, if you have enough power, you can do what you want and everyone else will trip over themselves trying to make excuses for you. I've been sick of living in this world since I was 16. And it hasn't been getting any better. When these people start making noise, it's so very simple for me: I'd rather die than take it. And I keep trying to arrange it. I'm coming for you, Sand. It won't be long now, and it won't be pretty. And I'm going to get what I want.