REFLECTION FROM JANUARY 23RD, 2013**
RE: PAIN AND DIVORCE COURT
WRITTEN – 1/23/2013 @ AGE 31
–Sadness, Pure Irritation and Snarkiness Follow–
–Proceed at Your Own Risk–
Concannon Conservatory Red Table Wine. That’s No.4. That’s what I’m on. I’m building myself a corkboard in the process, nothing much better to do. Well…
No.1 was The Dreaming Tree, some such and the other grown and curated in Napa Valley by Dave Matthews etc. It was pretty good, best part the cork, I kept it, round and round it goes:
The old man said to me
Long before these crowded streets
Here stood the Dreaming Tree
It rocks. Then came No.2, of course, in all my misery, a Cab Sav by Hess Select. Cheers to tears. No.3 was a California red blend I’d had before, umm…ahh yes, Apothic Red, hoped it’d heal my soul. It did not. And then No.4 we’re here today, Concannon Conservatory 2010 Crimson & Cloves, delightful, red table wine and delightful. And coming up good ol’ No.5, one Dynamite Vineyards’ 2010 Cab Sav, from the volcanic vineyards of Sonoma County. Sonoma County. We were almost there. Instead we decided to get a divorce.
I got served today, officially, except apparently my divorce attorney saw Cooper’s at court yesterday and told her not to waste the money on a process server. Of course, about two hours after I was served I get an email from my attorney forwarded from B#tch saying, “ohh latida la-ti-da, I completely forgot to call my server man in time and by the time I did, well don’t you know your client was already served just a half-hour earlier! Just wanted to email and let you know there’s no ill will!!” I hate to call her B@tch to you because I have a much lovelier name with which I prefer to nick her, but I’m relatively sure for most it’s not appropriate and so Bitch it on is.
It’s retarded, and I mean that literally, as in this process is umm…hold on, I already had this conversation with Lainey and I’m determined to be politically correct. This process is…delaying or slowing the development or progress of me. It’s retarded. R-E-T-A-R-D-E-D. Y-E-S. It is. It’s true. I’m so glad I write. I don’t know what else I would do with myself. I don’t know what else could cheer me up so goddamned much.
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