I miss Celexa. I know that it was augmenting my self-destructive inclinations, but at least I felt like I was going somewhere. Where? I didn’t know. But "somewhere," even an unknown somewhere, feels more purposeful than just idling the engine.

What the hell am I even talking about? That paragraph didn’t make any sense at all. I’m going to leave it there, though, because it illustrates my point.

No, it doesn’t illustrate a point. For a minute I thought it illustrated my point, but I look back now and can see that so far, I’m three paragraphs into a post that starts nowhere, doesn’t know where it wants to go, and doesn’t realize when it’s gotten there. I’m like a blind dog: I’d chase my tail, but I don’t even know where that is.

I think maybe I should just stick to just telling a simple story right now. I think I can hold a story together, as long as I just keep the chronology correct.

Mary and I had lunch yesterday, for the first time in about three weeks. I’ve been canceling the lunches, saying I have a lot of work to do, but yesterday Mary said she needed to talk.

So we went to a Thai place. I got chicken mussaman curry (their "one-star" version, which means it’s supposed to be mild, but it still makes my forehead sweat) with sticky rice.

She got something else. I can’t even remember what exactly it was, except the English translation for it was ridiculous. Something like, "Eggplant Delight." But I don’t think it’s important what she ate, to tell the truth.

Anyway, we spent the first five minutes talking about how I’m different (again) somehow. Like I’m less angry, but also like I’m not happy.

"Find me one happy person in the world. One." That’s what I should have said, but it didn’t occur to me until just now. Besides, what good would it have done? It’s not like Mary was trying to prove to me that there are a lot of happy people in the world.

Ha. Far from it.

Mary told me that one of the Sales guys in our company, let’s call him Joe, was making her life miserable. He’s one of the worst kind of people, she said: someone who’s good at detecting gay people, and is also homophobic.

No, homophobic isn’t the right word. Homophobics are the ones who are afraid of homos. Joe isn’t afraid of homos, he just hates them. Homo-hating. I’m sure there’s a word for it, but I can’t remember what it is. I should look it up. Later, maybe.

Anyway, Joe constantly teases Mary with references to gayness and hypocrisy and whether when the little Dutch boy who put his finger in the dike (dyke, get it? Ha ha) it (she) had wished for a little Dutch girl instead.

As Mary’s face got redder and redder, I had the most peculiar sensation: the awareness that I ought to feel something, but didn’t. So I faked it. I’ve been faking a lot of things lately.

I don’t think Mary expected me to do anything about Joe. She knows what a fantastic brawler I am (ha), and she knows that I’m not going to confront Joe, so really I think she just wanted to vent a little bit.

But here’s what Mary doesn’t know. Or maybe she does know and just didn’t let on, in which case she’s more devious than I would have suspected. Shit, where was I? Oh yeah: What Mary doesn’t (or does) know is that I actually have both motive, means, and opportunity to more than get back at him for what Mary’s done.

Here’s why. Devin (my boss) has emailed me about three times in the past two weeks, wondering whether there’s anybody abusing Internet access at the company. I think he’s looking for a reason to fire someone, because money’s tight. It’s easier to fire someone who deserves it.

Joe, like just about everyone in the company, surfs the web just about nonstop, looking at stuff that has nothing to do with what we sell. In Joe’s case, it’s all about politics. He goes to all the conservative sites, then to the liberal sites to troll them.

To tell the truth, though, Joe’s web surfing patterns are a lot less nasty than Mary’s. So he deserves to be fired, but she deserves it more.

But Mary’s my "friend," I guess. And I can make my life easier, Mary’s life easier, and Devin’s life easier if I out Joe.

Joe’s life, of course, will get harder. But he’s in sales, he’ll find another job soon. Maybe selling cars or real estate or something.

I’ve thought about this as much as I can for right now. I’ll think about it more over the weekend. I already know, though. Joe is toast.

I’m going home. now. I hope my sexual partner will let me just watch TV tonight in peace.