Insomnia Redux

Almost three years later. I still can’t sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well since I came to Austin. I think part of it is that I have never gotten used to sleeping alone. But I still wrestle with the same demons each night. Tonight’s foray into sleeplessness is sponsored by the fact that it was my 20th high school reunion this weekend. And that has me just a little freaked out. So where do I stand in my battle to come to terms with my life? Let’s see.

Tonight Dexter Gordon will be my accompanist. Sometimes when I think that maybe there is a heaven (or hell) I ruminate on the idea of meeting Dexter. The guy really knew how to make a sax sing.

My other companions will be vodka and nicotine. The clear, biting elixir of my homeland never lets me down. And cigarettes will never let me go.

So let’s start with work. No real change. I transferred to Texas with World Market in hopes of getting a GM position. And I did. And I wasn’t very good. I had no passion for it. Wine and wicker turned out not to be my milieu. Plus I hated my boss. He was a gay man in a straight man’s body. So, recognizing myself in him, and vice versa, we didn’t hit it off. Eventually I quit. And I didn’t work for 5 months. I keep repeating the mantra over and over that I took the time by choice, but I know in my heart that is a lie. I was paralyzed. I spent the entire time alone, in my apartment, with the blinds drawn. Finally I got a job with a company that sold boxes. I ran a tiny little store in the same shopping center as my World Market store. So I had the pleasure of passing yet another failure in my life each day as I went to sell cardboard to stressed out, angry people. The job was mindless at best and although it gave me the opportunity to work on theatre (which we will cover later) I was like a caged lion the entire time I held that job. In the spring of 2007 I took a job with a national chain of bicycle shops. The bike business is the ex lover that I keep returning to, even when I know that I am no longer in love. It’s the devil you know. So now I work way too many hours trying to create something that I can point to and say “look what a great job I did” and it will never happen.

When we were kids, my buddy Ski played the sax. I always hoped that he would become a great player, like the guy who played in Billy Joel’s band. Now I listen to Bee Bop and have to laugh at the comparison. Jazz is something I don’t share with too many people. It’s way too hard to describe. Great jazz makes me cry. No matter how many times I hear it.

Love. This is now a topic that I think will remain in past tense. I don’t think I will venture down that path again. It’s too hard. There is too much sacrifice for me. Although I long for it at times, I know that it would be a foolish endeavour. I think I am destined to be alone. Since coming to Austin, two women have been in love with me. One was a married woman who hit the road as soon as she realized that she wanted more. That was a shame, I liked her. The other run in with love was with a wonderful woman who used to be a man. And if I could get around the fact that she used to be a guy, if I had a real attraction to her, I might actually have had a chance at some sort of happiness, maybe. She has one of the biggest hearts and finest minds I have had the pleasure of being around. But, if I can’t get passed hairy armpits and women who don’t shave their legs, there is no way I am getting past gender reassignment. I’m just too shallow. Plus, she has a dog. And I am not emotionally equipped for another dog in my life.

Did you know that the Finns invented the Molotov cocktail? Vodka and kerosene. Named after a Russian general. Well, throw at match at me; I’m turning my liver into a fuel soaked rag.

Sex. Another arena where they can retire my jersey. It’s a shame really. Just when I finally started to get good at it, now nobody wants to do it with me. I guess I shouldn’t really say that. I’m sure I could find somebody. There are plenty of lonely people in this town who could use a little pick me up. But frankly, I have never been the pick up kind of guy. I always left that to Ski. He had the moves. Me, I want to get to know the person. I am a cerebral lover, I think. I can’t just jump in the sack with someone. I have to know something about them. What they want out of life, what makes them laugh, what are their fears. All of these things come into play when you’re rolling around with someone. For me it has always been about more than just bumping uglies. But it has been so long, I fear that I am forgetting the myriad of circus tricks I have picked up over the years. Damn.

There is a guy on this album (I still call them albums) who can make a xylophone sound like raindrops. It’s fucking beautiful.

Bills. Still an issue. I bought a new car. For the first time in my adult life I have a car payment. It’s funny. Even at 38 years of age, I can’t accept the fact that I am an adult. I certainly don’t feel like one. What have I done that qualifies me as an adult? Nothing.
Well, I’m five days late on my car payment. I have over $2000 in the bank, but I still haven’t mailed the $250 check. What is pathetic is that all I have to do is pick up the phone and I can pay the bill. But I don’t and I can’t explain it. It is self destructive behavior and yet I continue. Pathetic.

When I listen to Dexter, I close my eyes and I am at the Blue Note in the 1950s. Times like this make me think I was born during the wrong era.

Death. It is still one of my favorite subjects. I have been working on my eulogy for the last few years. I am determined to have the last word. The eulogy is complete, with the acception of the part about women. That subject is too challenging for me to reduce to a paragraph or two that make any sense. Maybe I will just sum it up with something cheesy like, “I loved each and every one of you.” But in the meanwhile, I have decided to make one last attempt at survival. I am building up my bicycle again and have vague, unsubstantiated intentions of getting in shape. And when that fails, I will begin my slow decent into the abyss in earnest. I currently suffer from hand tremors, numbness in my extremities, bleeding from my ear and lately have been having really annoying memory lapses. I have been unable to recall entire days. I’m not complaining, really. None of this is unexpected or entirely unwelcome. Still, part of me wants to meet my grandchildren and my kids are just starting to become really interesting and those annoying little issues keep me from just pulling the plug.

You know what I love about vodka? I can drink it all night with little or no effect. And then all of a sudden it hits me like a train. Well, I hear the horn off in the distance. Better wrap it up.

Art. It’s worse than love. It breaks my heart every time. I love to direct. I love the process. You take a group of people, most often than not strangers, and a text and you create something that has the power to move people. I throw my entire being into directing. Since I came here I have directed two plays. Both were well received and both left me more depressed than ever. I can’t come to terms with the fact that I never made it to the big time. I never became a full time, professional director. I never achieved what myself and so many people thought I would. And so each time I direct, it hurts. But I still want more.

Well, as Bill Cosby once said, “the Sandman is beating me to death”, so now I will retire.
There is an empty bed and a solid four hours of sleep calling my name.

Eric