See No Evil, Hear No Evil…

As I mentioned in the previous post, there has been a lot going on in the last three days, and all of it is, for the most part, pretty bad. However, there is a silver lining through all of this drama. Perhaps, we should go back to Wednesday and tell this story piece by piece, as compared to delivering the tale in summary.


“Making a million friends is not a miracle. The miracle is to make a friend who will stand by you when millions are against you.”
— Unknown 

I spent the day at home, for the most part. That night, however, I decided to go out to Applebee’s with Brianna and some other guy she knew who looked like Rufio from the movie Hook.

The resemblance really was uncanny...

Just remove the skunk hair color, replace it with bleach blonde, and remove the "interesting" wardrobe and substitute clothes sold at Hot Topic.

So, we’re on out way to Applebee’s and Gabby, one of my dearest friends, responds to my texts from earlier. She informs me that she wants me to go back to Denton with her. I said let’s do it.

So, while Brianna and I wet our whistles at Applebee’s, Gabby and her friend Julia sat there and listened to me ramble on incessantly about the Rangers blowing the lead against Anaheim and various other funny, mildly-offensive topics.

It was at this time I had begun fully feeling the sting of my breakup with Meghan last week, and since Gabby knows how destructive I can be during this period of relationship mourning, she slept next to me that night, making sure I was okay.

She listened whenever I talked about something. She ran her fingers through my hair as I tried to sleep. She even helped me fall back to sleep after having a nightmare that night.

So, the late night hours transitioned into the early morning.


“There are no facts, only interpretations.”
— Fredrich Nietzsche

Gabby had to get up early to get to work and I had to return to the depressing suburb of Lewisville with her. I decided to seize the opportunity to fill out more job applications, since Hilton is taking their sweet time getting back to me.

So, after the drive down I-35 and a quick stop into Shipley’s for doughnuts and juice, Gabby checked in to Interskate, and I began my trek down S.H. 121 to see what opportunities there may be for me there.

I will admit, that I was kind of distracted that morning. Aside from being tired, I was in a part of town that carries some nostalgic weight for me, and since I’ve been in a writer’s block recently, I decided that one of the things I was going to do was sit in random places to see if it sparked anything.

Robbie, circa two days ago.

Yeah -- I even sat like this once or twice.

I closed my eyes and morphed the Dragon’s Breath headshop back into the old 7-11 I frequented during 5th and 6th grade. I sat on the stairs of the apartment building I lived in, hoping to spark a memory from that time. I found a random basketball sitting at the court and shot a few baskets for old-time’s sake. I also went down to the creek that runs behind the apartments, looking for the overpass that once upon a time, held the graffiti Matt and I had done out of sheer boredom.

I found these ghosts hard to conjure, possibly from fatigue. Or, perhaps, these memories are becoming more and more distant.

Anyway, I did put some applications in, and discussed employment options with some general managers while I was out. The trip wasn’t totally spent on nostalgia.

Afterward, I went home and got a few more hours of sleep. Shortly after, I got a call from Dawn. My final check from Earthbound had arrived, and she told me that she put it back for me so Aubrey didn’t mail it, which I really appreciated.

I convinced Gabby to come with me to get my check, which she was more than happy to do. I wanted to spend some more time with her anyway, especially since she was so good about helping me not think about the current craziness going on these days.

We got my check and talked to an old friend of mine, Jimmy, for a bit. Gabby wanted a snow cone, so we cruised over to Bahama Buck’s. After a bit of controversy surrounding the acquisition of said snow cone, we met her friend Laura at Olive Garden for dinner.

Since I am morally opposed to Olive Garden, I didn’t eat. I wasn’t really hungry anyway.

After that, we cruised over to her friend Joey’s apartment and watched Lars Von Trier’s Anti-Christ, which I found fascinating and they found horrific — for many, many reasons…


Even alongside the scenes where Willem DaFoe's character gets a cinder block slammed into his junk and Charlotte Gainsborough's character cuts off her own clit, this little fox freaked them out too.

Before the film, the “tsunami” of drama began. It was a lot of texts, so I’m going to only really touch the high points of the conversation.

Meghan asked me if I was going home that night. At the time, I was unsure, so I told her that. Later on, after some unnecessary banter between her and I about the reasons why she said I “had to go home”, I told her I was crashing over at Joey and Chris’ with Gabby. This set Meghan off, causing her to rip into me and basically accuse me of sleeping with Gabby, which is not the case. I told her she was acting ridiculous and that she didn’t have any right to tell me where to be anymore.

Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. Blah. Blah. Blah. I told her I was done having the conversation and turned my phone to silent.

His power level's over 9,000!!!!!!!

Gabby talked me down and we watched the movie, crashing not too long afterward.

Gabby did the same thing that night as she did the night before: listen to me and help me go to sleep, even while I shed a few tears from the mounting stress.

FRIDAY, JULY 22, 2011

“Other people are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.”
— Unknown 

We woke up late, since the apartment was hot all night. At one point, when woken up from the building humidity, I tried convincing Gabby to come to the Awful Waffle with me, but to no avail.

Interjection: I felt like that was an appropriate way to cut down on some of the accumulated depression in this post.

Gabby had to work again, so when she left for Inter-cheap-Skate, I went back home. After only a few minutes of being there, my mom came outside and began talking to me about the last couple of days and what she and Meghan had talked about the night before and that morning.

The conversation turned to me spending a lot of time out, with the accusation that I was sleeping with random girls. The dialogue itself, at the end, went a little something like…

Me: Mom, I’m not sleeping with anyone.
Mom: Really now?
Me: <takes drag from cigarette> Yes, mom. Believe it or not.
Mom: I know you, Robert…

Then she walked off, arms folded and angry. I just sat there stunned.

Did she really just say that to me?

I went back inside a short time later, then kicked open my computer to see Facebook statuses directed toward me by Meghan.

Normally, these things don’t get a reaction out of me, but given the incident that had just happened and the “conversation” I had with Meghan the night before, I was straddling the edge.

I just snapped.

And went Super Saiyan.

I tore into Meghan with no mercy, eventually removing her and the people she associated with from my Facebook page.

Interjection: I removed them so I wouldn’t have their posts clogging up my feed, not necessarily because I was completely washing my hands of them. Honestly, I don’t talk to many of them anyway. However, this little exercise in “friends list cleanup” proves that removing someone from your Facebook is a low blow, as it was a few years ago when you removed someone from your MySpace.

Metaphor: You're soooo deleted from our Facebook pages.

After the deletion and a bit more fighting, I think something clicked in Meghan’s head and she flat out told me that she legitimately hadn’t accused me of sleeping with Gabby to mom…

Interjection: Which is backed-up by the fact mom said I was sleeping with everyone I had met.

… and that she realized the fighting from the night before was her fault. I caved, especially since Jax came into the conversation, and I was, honestly, just too tired to fight anymore. I was done with it all. I’m still just done with it all.

Needless to say, there hasn’t really been much conversing between me and the family since yesterday. I tried getting out again last night, but such an event was unattainable. Even Meghan suggested I try to get out, agreeing with me about how messed up the whole thing is.


“Nobody fights dirtier or more brutally than blood…”
— Whitney Otto, How to Make an American Quilt

I had gone out into the living room early this afternoon to see if my cousin had heard about Amy Winehouse’s death. He had, but a conversation had begun about her death, ultimately ending (at least my participation) when mom went on a tangent about her view on where we all go when we die.

To Grandma:
“Worm food,” mom said, “she’s worm food. Just like, one day, you’ll be worm food. One day, I’ll be worm food. Robbie will be worm food, more sooner than later if he doesn’t straighten his act up.”

I respond only by uttering “ouch”, then went out the door.

Then this happened...

I smoked a cigarette aggressively.

I haven’t said a word to her since.


“Every silver lining has a cloud.”
— Mary Kay Ash 

So, how where do the aforementioned silver linings lay? Well, I know that, according to some, the actions we had previously are always going to be the defaulted actions of the individual in the eyes of those around them, even if the individual does not commit such acts anymore. This point is also evident in the fact that my step-father and I still butt heads like we did when I was twelve.

It kind of sucks knowing that in the eyes of my own mother, my impulses can’t get better as I get older. Perhaps that’s why I called this post “Satyriasis” — the fact that no matter what, it’s probably going to continue being the default philosophy that I sleep with hordes of women and party my ass off.

Screw the fact I realize that moving on quickly is one of the contributing factors into my agonizing depression.

Apparently, people are incapable of learning from their mistakes. It’s kind of a shitty proposition, isn’t it?


About Robert L. Franklin

Ah, the About Me section - social networking's excuse for you sounding like an elitist prick. Hmm... what to say? What to say?
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