It’s funny that, rolling over and breathing heavy, I knew that I wasn’t going to feel to beat-up about cheating on Ramona, because it was hardly two years prior when I had my first major bout of infidelity… after too much drink and proximity to a sexpot redhead in the city, a friend of one of my roommates at the time, I ended up in bed with her and held her off through the night, but gave in to my usual morning drive and mounted her with a small amount of hangover verve at 5:30 am…And at the time I was somewhat under contract with a woman I’d been seeing for a year…SO, I decide to make a bawling admission of the slip to her, I guess in fear of losing some security we had built up despite our complete lack of common bond, and this brought a month of distrust and payback and was viewed by my mentors as a childish and wooly thing to do…”Why did you tell her?” (Insert Let sleeping dogs lie, don’t fix what ain’t broke, what you don’t know won’t hurt you)…
So I had this reference and could go the route of the mentors, who then were high bandits of larceny and dishonesty—I.E. would steal the wine at their own poetry readings—and tell Ramona nothing, riding out the chance that Crystal hadn’t seen Johanna and I together in preemptive coitus enrapturosous, dancing a jig in the house of Hustler…I could even counter any accusations by further lies and half-truths, therefore digging myself a private little eight sufferings, the six sufferings, and the three sufferings…”We see people who lose control of themselves, taken over by strong defilements…” Alas, would it be virtue or negativity? I didn’t know at the moment, but I didn’t feel the strong, dyspeptic guilt in the stomach telling me to spill the guts or else…”there is nothing to fear in the three hell realms, save the mind itself”…I could lay there exhausted and pine about Karma…but I wouldn’t be breaking the heart in quite the same manner…no, the small hope loops were getting smaller, and I was acting more and more on nerve with each passing day…
-Michael Price
