ROAD KILL

December 21, 2011

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. But in the end, all you need is Love.

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin. Yes, I am still alive and yes, isn't it just so predictable that I'd show up for the last issue? Okay, I get it. I'm lazy. I'm a scoundrel. A ne'er do well. A rake. A cad. A bad person even. And I don't even have the frickin' book done, which, as I've gathered, is my most egregious sin. I'm killin' y'all in other words. Well, I do have some news. Part I of A Bud's Life (current working title although that changes by the day) will debut on this site not too much longer after the first of the year (From our "We'll Believe It When We See It" File - ed.) and it will be available to purchase through PayPal. It will be available in our new and much improved AE store, which I'm not supposed to talk about but I am anyway. You'll find new, ultra-hip wearable stuff there to make your non-informed friends jealous, as well as Part I of my book.

Why a Part I? As in WTF have you been doing all of these months? Point not so well taken and please refer to our other website biteme.com. Here's the thing, it's because I'm still livin' the ending. And until I reach that final chapter - at least for the time being - there won't be a Part II. So there. I've finally said what people have long expected. It's The Book That Will Never End or something like that, because I don't want to finish the book because I don't want this swirling maelstrom of chaos to end.

Why? Well at times it's a really, really excellent chaos. Life affirming and invigorating even. And at other times, well, I wander off and "shoot myself in the head" as Peter reminds me, and for no good reason too. To say I can't help it isn't an excuse. I get it. To the few women readers I have left out there I ran out of excuses so long ago they've just transitioned to the "I'd run him over with my car if I saw him" camp. Ouch.

How complicated? Well if I get too involved in explaining things it will turn off the few guy readers I have left as well, because all they want me to do is to shut up and write about cars, and deep-six the domestic stuff. While the lady readers out there love when I write about my domestic travails because they can't avert their eyes from the sheer complexity and lunacy of it all. And it gives them a slight tinge of delight that however bad their scene is and however disgusted they are with their so-called men at least it's not as bad as the train wreck in Austin spelled B-U-D.

I get that. And I understand it. I even will own it in my deepest darkest moments. Now granted that's not very often but at least I have a passing glance of awareness, give me credit for that. Hey, but you gotta understand. No, you really gotta understand. Because this shit is complicated. Meaning this shit I call life its own self is more complicated than you could ever imagine. More complicated than you can believe. More complicated than, oh you just have no idea. Which is why you'll have to read the book.

How complicated? Well, I can give you the high hard ones in a run-on sentence synopsis that will probably draw small arms fire from the players involved - not to mention the disgusted English majors out there - but just consider it a giant teaser for what's coming, so here goes and it was nice knowin' ya.

I'm staying with Nadine now because Sir Charles dropped dead on the 18th green at his country club several months ago and Nadine didn't want to be alone and the funeral and subsequent fallout from the whole episode was just unbelievable and Jolene came back from L.A. with her tail between her legs this after flying the extra mile to lay me out with a figurative right cross to my face followed by a field goal kick to my my balls but then she had a very serious trauma and she's forever changed by it and it's weird because we're still technically married and we're still friends and I still see her almost every Wednesday for lunch but Nadine is okay with it (I think) because for the first time in a while I'm sorta coming home to her which doesn't make the deliciously delightful Janey very happy because she's at the breaking point with my antics and keeps bringing up the whole "the rest of our lives" discussion after her daughter Molly graduates and hell who wants to talk about the rest of our lives? because that just gives me the frickin' creeps like we should be lining-up our burial plots or something but she is mesmerizing and a fine person and a terrific mother and an incredibly sexy woman but Nadine is ultra sexy too maybe even more so than ever because she finally is at peace with herself and everything and she's spending more time with her folks and she actually appreciated me, I know, right? and as long as she doesn't go searching for a piece to shoot me with again I guess we're really good to go the distance but then there's The Woman I Can't Ever Mention Again who still rocks my world and who lights up the room with her incandescent smile and majestic presence and who makes my heart stop with the smallest of glances and who melts me with her kiss Melts. Me. and who is trying her damnedest to stay away from me and live her life but it's just so fucking hard. So. Fucking. Hard. Like oppressively can't breathe hard but then again that's life its own self and for serene relief I still tutor/mentor the wonderfully special Jesse and it's all good except when it's all bad and I drove some fine cars this year but then again nothing worth really waxing eloquent about at this point and I'm jealous of all the cars Peter and WordGirl drove but then again if I got my head out of my ass and stopped spreading myself too thin then maybe I could drive more cool stuff but then again when you live in the swirling maelstrom that I do things just lead to another and another and then I'm right back on the roller coaster and it's stupefyingly complicated and wonderfully all-consuming and when it comes right down to it I love 'em all for different reasons and I want them all for different reasons and if I go missing after you read this you'll know why and on my tombstone I want it to read "He loved them all. To his own detriment." Or something like that. Whew.

I know. It gives me a headache just writing about it. Let alone living it.

But just today I had a phone conversation with Nadine (she's visiting her parents in San Antonio for the week) that stopped me cold. And once again she managed to make her point loud and clear, which she's been doing quite often since Chucky passed. We were talking about the typical mundane stuff between couples when she suddenly paused and blurted out:

"Bud. Do you know you still make my heart sing?"

"Uh, what?"

"Do you know that you still are The One after all this time?"

"Nadine, I..."

"I just wanted you to know that Bud because things happen. Bad, unexpected things. And I just want to make sure you know. Because I couldn't bear losing you, even though you're the most consummate selfish asshole at times and you just can't help yourself from chasing it. All the time. Which is pathetic and it pisses me off. But I'm done worrying about it and fretting about it. You will eventually get tired. Or quit. Or retire. Something. You are loved Bud. Just know that. Despite everything you've got going on right now and despite the shit you put us - and your entourage - through, you are loved."

"I love you, Baby," was the only thing I could say.

Perspective. Courtesy of the irresistible Nadine. And on that note of heart-wrenching Love, I will say adios for now.

I hope you and yours have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and don't forget the rest of the story.

It's in the book.