March 15, 2009
It has been another 18 months. Sleep
still eludes me. Once again, I retreat to the comfort of my Ikea desk
chair, and ruminate about my life. Things have changed. A lot. As I
look down the barrel of 40 years old, I have come to realize that I’m
not going to win the lottery. I’m not going to wake up and know
what I am supposed to do with my life. Where I am, is where I am
going to be, I think.
Tonight, I am going to let the random
option on my Windows Media Player dictate musical selection. I’m
just too befuddled to make any decisions. Well, accept when it comes
to my beverage of choice, tonight we will take this journey with my
old nemesis Jack Daniels. On ice. One big change is no cigarettes.
Even though I have a craving right now that goes to the very core of
my being, to the end of every nerve ending I have, I haven’t had a
drag in over 70 days, and I am going to keep fighting.
So, where to begin. As with the
previous incarnations we will start with work, just as Icicle Works
chimes in with Birds Fly (Whisper to a Scream). I do love this song.
Work sucks. I have been at my wits end with retail for many years.
Right now it is just habit. Unfortunately, it is a habit that has no
replacement. I’m not really qualified to do anything else. I am
currently negotiating my glorious return to the Chicago metro area
and another job in the bicycle business. My time with the big company
is coming to an end. I just can’t manage to get my desk organized.
I just can’t manage to get time sheets sent into corporate on time.
It’s the corporate end of things that I can’t get right. And once
again, I have a boss who I don’t like and who doesn’t like me.
Hmmm, I think I am seeing a pattern. I’m sure it isn’t ME….
Well now I will make an attempt to return to the Ma and Pa world, and
probably work 80 hours a week, neglecting all other aspects of my
life. Why? Because that is what I am good at. Self destruction. Too
bad I can’t get paid for that.
Love Rollercoaster! God love the Ohio
Players. And how appropriate as Love is the very next topic!
I never thought it would happen to me.
In fact I hoped it wouldn’t happen to me, but I’m in love.
Completely, entirely and horribly. And it isn’t going to work out.
Bad timing. Very bad timing. She is in the process, or will be, of
getting divorced. She lives in New York. She is an ex of mine. And
she is amazing, wonderful and not ready to be with me. But I am. Very
ready. On fire. And she has put the brakes on. Totally
understandable. Totally sensible. Totally devastating. I don’t know
how I am going to stay sane. Waiting. Indefinitely. Once love becomes
unrequited, it becomes all about suffering. She is trying really hard
to let me down easy, to ask for some time to get her head together,
but I am an old man. I have been around the block a few times and I
know what will happen. And all I really want to do is cry. It’s
like holding sand in your hand. A little slips away every second
until all you are left with are a few grains and the knowledge that
you lost the rest. And since I am not a good crier, all that is left
is intoxication, which happens to rhyme with self medication!
You know what I love about Jack? One of
the first things that happens, is my lips go numb. After a while I
sound like Mush Mouth from Fat Albert. “Heyb, BFat Balbert!” And
here comes Green Day with Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Nice timing.
So next is sex. I went a long time
without it. I was worried that maybe I had forgotten. It turns out, I
didn’t forget. I did get old though. I did get really out of shape.
I think maybe I have a “dysfunction”. I have become very
unreliable. Starting in the fall last year, I started sleeping with a
22 year old woman. Yup. 16 years my junior. She had Daddy issues. The
fling was brief. But it reminded me that I still had skills. And then
New York happened and I got a reminder of what sex is like when it is
flavored with emotion. Wow. I couldn’t get enough of that girl.
Damn I am really going to miss her. And I suspect that I am about to
start another very, very long cold spell. Because right now, sex with
anyone else is entirely undesirable. Almost 40 years old and looking
at the end of my sex life is both depressing and a relief. I think
maybe it’s a good thing that this ends. I don’t think I have the
mental or emotional capacity to keep it up. Literally.
“Alcohol” by the Bare Naked Ladies.
Gotta love it when the random shuffle is paying attention….. Jack
goes down much easier when the ice starts to melt. It’s like the
ice cubes are sacrificing themselves in order speed my intoxication.
And now we are onto Death. Can you hear
that knocking? Really? Because it is pretty loud. Who could it be?
Let’s check. Hey, what do you know, it’s Death! We were just
talking about you! Come on in. Take a load off. I will be with you
soon, I think. (And with that “Many Rivers to Cross” comes on,
which is a song I want played at my funeral!) So the lovely Miss New
York asked me to go to the doctor, because she wanted me to be
healthy, so I would be around when we grew old. Well, it turns out, I
am kinda broken. First of all I have diabetes. Real shocker. Gramps
had it, Dad had it. I was destined to have it. I’m surprised that
it took so long. So no more fun foods. No more sugar. Well, maybe the
occasional glass of whiskey…Next is my heart. Might have a bad
ticker. EKG came back funny. Have to go to the Cardiologist and have
all sorts of tests. Can’t wait. And then there are my testicles.
Looks like a hernia from when I was a youthful bartender. So I have
to go for an ultrasound. Anybody want to lay odds on Cancer? I’ll
know more in a few weeks. If I write another Insomnia blog in a year
or two, you’ll know I survived. In the meanwhile, I live a pleasure
free life. No smoking, no wild nights of drinking, no bad food and no
sex. So, so much to live for.
Ah, the Cure. All their music makes me
want to open up a vein. Or get drunk. Right now I’m better off
staying away from sharp objects.
So last but not least is Art. Frankly,
I have managed to avoid it for the last couple of years. It’s just
too painful. (Ahhh!!! “Paper Thin” by John Hiatt! Used to be a
personal anthem. “You write it down in alcohol fire, cause that’s
the only flame that wants you.” Amen John. Amen.) I’m sorry,
where was I? Oh yeah, avoiding art. I have allowed my job to prevent
me from so much as running the box office or concessions at my
favorite local non profit, because it just hurts too much to be
there. I can only be reminded so often and so much about what I am
not doing with my life. Part of my illustrious return to Chicago is
the intention to make one last attempt at becoming a director. You
know in the movies, when the hero is getting his ass kicked in a
fight and the gun is just out of reach and the bad guy keeps pulling
the hero away from the gun? I feel like the gun. Inert. Just laying
there, oblivious to the action happening around me. Passively waiting
for a desperate hand to reach out and put me to work. I just hope if
the time ever comes and my trigger gets pulled, that I am not already
out of ammo. I’m hoping I have at least one round left in me.
Oh and we end the evening with “Empty”
by Del Amitri. Wow. That’s like getting kicked in the naughty bits.
It’s a song about a guy trying to console the ex husband of his new
lover. Fuck me. I’m sure sleep is nowhere to be found. But I’m
out of words.
Eric
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