9 pm and Bridget is on the run.

We're crazy. Yes.

PJ and I are trying our hands (or maybe that's our feet) at night running. We're heading out with one tiny keychain canister of bear spray left over from a camping trip in 1994 and the blessings of absolutely nobody in the house, but because it's cold and rainy and dark, no one wants to go with us. We're going to head over to the benches and then turn and come back. As it stands today, I am thirty-seven days out from the second anniversary of Jacob's death.

And I can't do this. I see it coming a mile away like a freight train. And I can't move off the tracks.

Macbook Amateur.

Damn Benjamin and his weirdly compelling overpriced laptop. I can't type on this thing. I don't think I can live with the doorbell noises and the fact that everything is on the left as opposed to the oh, doorbell again. How distracting. Otherwise it's like the iPhone. Overly easy without much effort at all. But I think I'll keep the Acer. Like I tell him every day he tries to get me to learn this thing, if I manage to kill my laptop with my electromagnetic princess pulses, I've only flushed four hundred bucks down the drain.

So there. Princess out.

I gave it a whirl. Now give me my machine with it's blink and you miss it battery life. Yes fine, there are perks. I am just not quite there yet. :)

Dark Horses.

Circles, people. Here we go. Watch for the boomerang around that last curve. It's a doozy.

Holding the hand that holds me down
I forgive you, forget you, the end

I didn't mean to actually publish that momentary rant last evening. I meant to type it out, delete it and shut down for the night. I was distracted, as you well know now and so this morning waking up to a shitload of emails telling me to DTMF (go to Urban Dictionary if you don't know what that means) surprised me and I wondered how all of the sudden everyone had insight again into my heart, other than what I give you. It wouldn't be the first time one of the boys started a journal in response to some atrocity I wrote about them. Ben's went on for months, after all.

I don't just feel things, I type them. I won't apologize for that any more than I will apologize for holding on to those who drag me down. You've met Lochlan, you know what he's like. He chooses to live idealistically until told otherwise and then when the going gets rough he walks away, only to return post-haste and demand that things go his way.

I'm learning this as I go, bear with me. Maybe the things you see so easily don't fly here because we are not that analytical. Put those emotions in there and we can't see a damned thing. It's so thick. A pea soup of emotions. Visibility will be limited.

Lochlan has had a huge hand in my upbringing, having been the object of my affections since I was a child. Then as a teenager, his aloof and loyal affection for me changed, and I learned so incredibly early exactly what to do to bring a man to his knees. Ever since then, with very few interruptions, we've been dropping and picking up our love affair, almost unconsciously. He's a polyamoric nightmare. He broke up with me when I was fourteen because I was difficult and he wanted to teach me a lesson. I was 'difficult' because his friends were making his life a living hell. They stared. They openly drooled. They were always very happy when I came along and he was jealous that I took attention away from him and afraid I would find a better boyfriend. I did. I found Cole. As a result, Lochlan has sought absolution from me periodically for the past twenty years. He tries to move on, I try to stay out of his way.

Try. I'm never all that good at undertakings without merit. When the going gets tough we have a tendency to fall back into teenage patterns that should have been undrawn decades ago. He's still affectionate, loving, logical Loch to a fault. He's also a judgemental, controlling asshole when he wants to be. Like all my boys, only Lochlan is always right up there because he spins it as the voice of reason and I could never win an argument with him. He's the Alpha and I, apparently am the goddamned Omega girl.

Things are changing, maybe.

He found the good in Satan's deal initially. Our souls and in exchange Bridget gets her boys home. Lochlan failed to remember her soul is tied to other needs of Satan and when made aware of such plans, instead of being concerned for my welfare, reputation or safety, predictably he only saw his share of Bridget shrinking.

See, we tricked him, or so he says. The deal was equal time. Bridget's a handful, between the two of us we can make her happy, Benny. And I betrayed him and fell in love with Ben. I married Ben. We made space for Lochlan in our lives but it's never enough.

I did not make a mistake and I'm also not continuing to make them and he should know better than to create a monster and then yell at her when she proceeds as instructed. And God FORBID anyone else should have any of her time at all.

Last I heard, she was a grown woman and not a teenager anymore but he can't or won't see that. And last night I was given the chance once again to escape. Walk away. No one will place blame, no one will be surprised. No one will find fault if you just want to come away and be done with the difficulty.

I am so predictable. You all know what I'm going to do before I do it and I'm fickle and impulsive and immature and insane.






So I dug my heels in instead.

There's room there, behind Ben, in the dirt where I can dig in hard and then I can hook my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and hide from all of them. I'm always hoping that if I do the opposite of what he has taught me to do then maybe Lochlan will stop pressuring me. Maybe he'll stop trying to secure a larger share of my heart and stop adding even more drama to an overly dramatic life. Maybe he'll fall out of love with me.

See, this is where we both fail. Because pigs will never fly and because Bridget doesn't run on logic.

And it isn't the same as Jake. These are not the same old roles with different players. I wanted to get away from Cole and be with Jake. I took whatever I could get from Jake until I felt like I couldn't stand another minute of life with him in second place. Which is exactly the same way I feel about Ben. I want to be with Ben. Ben is oxygen.

NOT Lochlan. Lochlan's had eleven million dozen chances in this life and he blew all of them. He takes me for granted when no one else does. That is the difference.

I owe you nothing.

I made my choice. Jesus, why won't you listen?

Slip Stitch and Pass.

Trey Anastasio is forty-five today.

Happy birthday old man!

Black gives way to agony. A mash up.

Bonham is home. He was neutered and he's had surgery on both eyes. All went well. He's very happy to be home. A week of drops, ten days of no running/jumping and all will be well again. He's doing fine.

I must run. Have to get gas, groceries, some assorted things at the hardware store and if I'm really lucky, lunch out and a pack of Pilot fountain pens. Because I didn't know they made disposable ones, I always steal Caleb's expensive ones and wait for him to ask me for their return.

Ben is really great.

Bye.

PS It's album day! Go now!

Dances to shades of grey.

Oh, hell, people, I'm not that drunk. Not by the long shot I wish I made.

In a nutshell, stop emailing me if it's something negative. I have negative. I bring the negative. I can find the dark in your sun and the pain in your ecstasy without hesitation, so if I want a drink at lunch that's none of anyone's business. Neither is it anyone's business if I have five in hopes of a blackout that will bring me to Jake so I can tell him the good news.

Gotcha. I had two. Because life is short and I was thirsty.

I am not in a position to have to choose with Sam, so if you were worried, don't be. Making nice with Caleb is not a requirement to be a part of my life. Just ask Bridget. She isn't very nice.

John will be fine, he says. Ben can make his own announcements, it isn't my place to spill any beans from his plate, full as it is. Or maybe that's empty now. I don't really care now that he has ripped his wings off and can stay awhile.

Because that is all I want.

Someone to stay awhile.

So I won't be alone. No one wants that. Especially for me. It isn't good.

So. cut. me. some. slack.

He's coming for you.

Fredddddddddyyyyyy.

Awesomes.

Am having a lovely day off with my big tattooed husband. He is aspoinlings me. Took me out for breakfast, lunch and bought me a beautiful long black swing coat and a amazing black suede bag from Nine West. With bondage hardware on it. He said that was the best part. I was all about needing a big bag to hold the various CDs and happy meal toys that wind up making their way to me almost daily.

Har.

Back tomorrow with sensical things. Or maybe not. :)

PS Tomorrow is the holy trinity, don't forget. Alice in Chains, Default and Breaking Benjamin all have album releases. Like Christmas, but without Santa.

PSS I'm not drunk, I swears.

Equinoctial points: when night and day are equal.

How can I be lost
In remembrance I relive
So how can I blame you
When it's me I can't forgive?

I woke up this morning, pulled on Ben's dress shirt and walked out onto the wrought iron balcony to watch the huge v-shaped formations of geese flying south over the Russian district in the cold blue skies. The early morning temperatures sent me quickly back inside, where I could see breakfast set up on the table already in the otherwise empty loft. I ignored it. I woke Ben up, passing him back his shirt while I started pulling my dress back on.

He got up and started to dress also, wordlessly. I found my watch and fastened it around one bruised wrist and he passed me, landing a kiss on the top of my head and taking a moment to hold me. Our eyes met when we pulled apart and we made one last survey of the room before turning to leave.

The car was waiting downstairs. Good. Drive of shame. Mike didn't say anything other than Good Morning. I didn't reply. Take me the fuck home so I can sleep. So I can wash Caleb's indelible fingerprints off us and spend a little more time talking about what sort of effects this spectacular new venture is going to have over time.

Goddamned precious time.

In a nutshell (thought it's incredibly complicated and I'm leaving things out) the boys have created an umbrella company that will allow them all to, for sake of argument, freelance at what they do best and they will share equally in revenue while still having independence in the far-flung corners of the different creative elements they represent. I will be looking after the administrative end of this new company and nothing more. So I no longer have to be involved in Caleb's other business entities, though with the connections he has there is no way this can fail.

There's been a lot of restructuring in the past few weeks. Including Ben who came home, had a few drinks and decided he was too old to be on the road anymore. He and Caleb spent a lot of time together because I didn't want Ben here, and they came up with this company, though I imagine Caleb already has the company well underway and has just been waiting to collect my boys to make colored flames in the fires of his hell. Like those little paper packets you can buy at the corner store. I always liked the blue flames best but somehow I associate the blue with Lochlan, if we're assigning colors to them.

Lochlan is on board easily. He's already been freelancing forever and he can't argue with stability for us/me. PJ is automatically on board for anything and everything if you end a sentence with "and it will be good for Bridget." Daniel and Schuyler are in. Chris, Dalton and Rob are go. August and Joel will be wealthy, wealthy individuals. Duncan, Andrew and Ben will have their creative hands in all kinds of projects. John switches careers entirely. He concerns me the most right now because he could easily wind up on the wicked side of this whole operation and so I will keep an eye on him. Well, they all concern me but dinner and beyond last night cleared up a whole heaping pile of my fears and I'm left wondering why they didn't all get together and do this ten years ago.

Sam has an open invitation he will not accept. His allegiance to Jacob's church and Bridget's ungainly faith is something Caleb's evil can't penetrate and that's fine with me. Sam and Caleb have done nothing but argue over me for days now. Sam is like I was yesterday but I couldn't persuade him to come out with us last night in order to clear the air. I will talk with him today after church.

This massive undertaking is good for everyone. Not only does it mean that with small exceptions here and there, everyone will be home all the time, but the boys who had to work harder for less will now be standardized so that they will continue to work hard but see a faster return for their efforts, an ability to enjoy the finer things now instead of waiting for later. Honestly, a few of them are already well off and they work for fun. Their needs are few. None of them have designs on expensive lifestyles anyway. This isn't a bid for material wealth. More a bid for security, emotional well-being and actual community within our collective, instead of timeshares. Instead of these horrifically crowded calendar pages in a dayplanner that goes around and around.

Instead of goodbyes.

No. more. goodbyes.

Caleb did this for me. He is the only one who could do something like this for me. Who would refuse guaranteed wealth in exchange for permanence? We're not twenty years old anymore. Life on the run gets hard after a fashion. That's why the boys didn't argue, though I'm not sure they understand fully what happens when they go to sleep at night and I am with the devil.

The catch, I mean.

There is always a catch with Caleb. He didn't get where he is by giving things away for free, as philanthropically-minded as he is publicly. Privately, there is always a price to be paid.

When so summoned, Bridget must wake up in hell. But oddly enough, she must bring Ben with her. That part almost made it okay. We know the rules of that game, we've played before. It gets easier. We're a team. We don't have to say goodbye all the time anymore.

That was worth my soul. That and the $2.99 for a packet of Mystical Fire to bring along.

Satan, reader of blogs.

First hat trick of the season, three posts in one day. I'm either drunk or my head is so full the words are pouring out my eyes at this point. Okay, both.

He had every intention of taking us out for dinner. You know, to celebrate the fact that he will be financing our lives in order to prove that he has my best interests at heart.

I should be grateful.

I'm just tired. This is almost everything I could ever ask for, short of bringing back the dead. Right result, wrong methods. Though, I should really just ask about the bringing back the dead thing. It seems like since God won't, maybe Satan will.

Like you wouldn't switch sides for that.

Scorned.

I think the most interesting part of today's revelations are that the angrier I got, the darker the skies became outside. A collective ambush would have been better served warm, with warning, instead of under bright lights and scrutiny inside of a difficult place in which there was so much background noise it took me a full hour to piece together what has happened to the brains my boys used to have.

Oh, that's right. Caleb had them stolen.

I'm really hoping I find the ransom note soon. I'm sure I have something of value I could use to get them back. In fact, I'm positive I do, which is why I really don't get why this happened or how to fix it or really if it's just a bad dream and instead of a handful of hours of sleep, perhaps I am still in my bed and none of it happened.

I haven't actually said anything out loud for close to two hours. They have stopped asking for reactions. The phone has stopped ringing. I failed to extend dinner invitations in my shock and I don't think anyone expects me to make dinner right now except for Ruth and Henry but they don't have a clue and that's fine with me so perhaps food will materialize and if six o'clock comes and food doesn't, I will make soup for the three of us and the rest of them can go to hell find something to eat. Elsewhere even.

I sat down to work through things but it's not coming because the pulse of adrenaline is making my fingers slow and unhelpful. I'm trying to not be dramatic. Or panicky. Or passive-agressive. Shocked. All in stride. Best scenario for everyone. Stupid justifications thrown out as balm on an itching rash. What the fuck.

Bridget, everyone will be here. All the time.

It sounded so amazing. Until I remembered who would be holding their souls. What the fuck, indeed, boys. This isn't a good idea and you know it. After everything we have gone through, you're still collectively underestimating Satan's power.

And I don't know why.

I already sacrificed myself to him. I do what he asks. I'm going back to work for him. So if you're doing it to protect me, you're decades too late.

In my head I can hear Cole laughing.

It's raining now. Maybe I can toss in some thunder and lightning. If I had that kind of power right now I think I'd zap that smug fucking smile right off his face. Then I would burn him to the ground. Alive. And I'd stand there and laugh while he screamed.

What the fuck, Ben. Lochlan. All of you. Equal partners? There's nothing equal here at all, I don't care what it looks like on paper. You guys have made a huge mistake going into business with Satan.

It's really too bad that you can't figure it out. Maybe he needs to kill me instead of EVERYONE I LOVE and then you might all get a clue. He's told me it can be arranged, but then his fun will stop, and we all know how special Caleb's brand of fun is.

This is delusional. I must be asleep.