C'est n'est pas une blog

que?

Just sitting here in the middle of the night asking myself two questions:

1.  Just how did I get so far down this wrong road; and

2.  What the fuck was I thinking?

I'm trying to come up with a few resolutions tonight.  How did I become so slavishly devoted to one woman?  I've got to get over myself, and get over this whole fantasy.  First resolution, buy a new guitar.  Second resolution, start dating.  This pining thing is for the birds, and as a subject matter it's pretty much exhausted.

a little older, a little colder...

I used to be a cold man.  An exceedingly cold man.  I was dressed in so many layers, no one could see me.  Well, not no one...I have two children, and they were the only ones allowed to see me, or at least the good parts of me.

I spent the last year or so stripping away those layers.  After all those years, I showed myself to someone else.  It was a bad idea.

Now I'm stuck here, naked, exposed.  I'm trying to remember the layers, and put them back on as quickly as possible.  I think I'll become Chinaski again.  It's what I was, what I should have stayed.  Never get out of the boat.

I should have left a trail of bread crumbs...

When I was cold, nothing could touch me.  Nothing could break through the walls of ice I had arranged around myself.  I won't claim I was happy.  I felt nothing.  But the opposite of nothing in that universe is nothing.  And so the worst I ever felt was nothing. 

But when you feel joy, you also feel pain.  I had joy, sure.  But now I have pain.  And I'd rather feel nothing. 

It's been about two months now.  There were a few days of joy in there, one a week, but for the last few weeks, just pain.  I go to sleep with it, I wake up with it, it sits with me all day.  And I'd rather just feel nothing.

For now, sedatives are the key.  Regular small doses, enough to blunt my mind and push everything back below the surface.  Unfortunately, although this an easy fix, it's not much of a long term solution.  True, I am lucky enough to know someone who has a regular prescription and shares, but already I can feel it failing at times. 

The eventual solution is to remember.  Remember that I'm just a sack of meat.  I'm just an animal, no better, and most likely worse, than all the others.  Accept it, deal with it, know it, live it.  Evidently, it was what I was  made for...if I was made for anything at all.

That second conclusion is starting to garner most of my attention today.  As much as I like the notion of being placed here to be a prick, I don't even think I have that much of a purpose.  There really doesn't seem to be any purpose at all.  I'm just here, and I'm stuck here. 

And I can't die.  I've tried it, slow and fast - a handful of pills, or drinking and smoking myself to death.  I always end up still here in the morning.  So I'm giving up on that dream too.

I just have to remember how to be cold, all the time.

back in the saddle?

Back at the pub again.  Haven't been here in ages, but after the first five minutes of "where have you been," and "the prodigal son returns," it was if I never left.  At least some things remain.

I only went because, well, I just needed to go somewhere...anywhere where there were people who say hello, and were friendly.  And the free drinks keep appearing in front of me.  And the shots - you can't forget the shots.

And she was right...evidently i'm somewhat attractive...there seem to be more woman than usual approaching me...must be that scent of despiration.  I haven't made the leap of going home with one yet, but I did let one pick up my tab there, and at the next bar...and buy me dinner.  I felt a little guilty at the end of the evening as I walked away, but not too much.

And there are the games I can play to amuse myself.  Tonight I won't pay for anything...either someone else will pay for drinks and dinner, or I'll take the emergency exit.  I guess sometimes I just need to know I still have the talent.

That, and calling the people in my address book...trying to at least pretend I have friends.  Unfortunately, it ends up like a bad retelling of that scene in The Matador - where he realizes it's his birthday and starts dialing.  And no one really wants to hear from him.

And who would want to hear from me?

I managed to make it home from the pub now, free tab, although I had 3-4 beers and 4-5 shots...I'm thinking a little music and then back out, into the breach.

...

Yes..you ask...the tab was taken care of.  The dinner, well, that is to be delivered...so I assume I will have to spend the balance of the evening fending off advances.  It happens.  I developed it pretty well by now, although, left alone like this I can't think of why I should resist.  I wait and wait, for love, although the rational reason eludes me.

Rational reason really has little part in it, though.

sake, part x...

"Watch out for that fucker..."

H.S.T.

For some reason, that line is sticking with me.  I was kind of hoping that fucker was me, but I really don't have the energy for a screed tonight.  Trying a little sake (well, maybe a lot) and perhaps that will boost my energy.

fade to beige...

The phone just sits there, mocking me with its silence.  I had been checking it every five minutes or so, to see if I had somehow missed her call.  I finally promised myself not to check it for two hours.  I sat here for an hour and a half before looking.    Then I saw it was locked up - and even if anyone had called, I wouldn't have known.  Which kind of sucks, since I'm back to checking every five minutes, just to make sure it's not locked up again.

I'm just numb.  I can't feel anything, can't taste anything.  Music sounds flat.  It's cold tonight, and cloudy.  Maybe it'll rain.  I just want to sleep.

What I really want is for the phone to ring.  But it doesn't look like it will.  So I'll settle for sleep. 

There is an art to extended sleep.  I've been sleeping so much, it's getting hard to sleep.  I managed almost 20 hours in the last 24.  Tonight, I'm doing it without drinking, but I think I'll be able to manage it within an hour or so.  I hope so.

How did I manage to fuck up the best thing that ever happened to me?

crown royal?

Another one of those days, where you just wonder what the point of it all is.  Still can't find anyone to drink with.  I've resorted to Crown Royal...how did that happen, I hear you ask... well, when I gave the back and forth over the liquor cabinet, it was the only bottle left that looked like it would have enough to last me without having to switch drinks.  Now, thirty minutes down the road, it seems as though I had underestimated my ability to drink.  I had half a bottle, but it's coasting on the edge now. 

At least at some point will come sleep, either for the rest of the day or until the next ride.  I just hate to switch drinks mid-stream, it usually leads to vomiting, which is just a waste.  And there are depressed people in Africa with nothing to drink.  So make every shot count...

Crown Royal...never really drank it before.  It always seemed a little pretentious, Now, at 500 ml it seems nothing if not small.  But aren't we all small?  I've been asleep since Sunday.  At this point it is pretty much impossible to sleep any more.  Luckily, there is a bottle of XO Cognac I have been saving for a special occasion, and although this isn't very special, it is an occasion. 

what?

I'm on the edge of something, I just don't know what it is...

just another day/night/whatever...

Not really sure where this post is going to go.  Sometimes that's the best way.

Anyway...you know how sometimes a small event can trigger a larger reflection?  Maybe that's not the right way to put it. 

Anyway...so, the simple start.  The car breaks down.  I call a few friends.  Four or five if I recall correctly. (fn. 1 I'll admit, I had a couple of pints before the incident)  Not one of them offered to help.  I walked the few miles home, and it really didn't strike me until later.  I had helped each of them time and time again, without even being asked. 

And then you start to wonder...are they really friends?  I don't have many to begin with, so it's a bit harder for me to get rid of them.

Fuck it, I'm already bored with this story...

one step forward, two steps back...

Yes, I guess I'm officially back.  Drinks all around, and smoke 'em if you got 'em.  I was going to have an orange for breakfast, but then I saw the Oranjeboom sitting next to it and thought that might hit the spot better.  What I've been trying hasn't worked, so I might as well go back to what was.

That brings me to the first song for the day.

The Replacements - Beer for Breakfast.   And lunch and dinner while we're at it.  "Honey, well I'm broke, But I'm gonna pay from some rum."  Not really much to the song but a couple of cords and a philosophy.  Still, it's nice, catchy, and manages to include the line "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas."  Why not?

I'll pause for a moment here to finish off the Oranjeboom (reminds me of Amsterdam) and reframe my frame of reference.

...

That one's down and kicking in.   Wondering whether it's too early for tequila, I realize that it isn't in Amsterdam.   I'll just imagine I'm there today, and presto/chango it's all okay.  Tequila it is then.  Luckily there are plenty of lemons around the house, and ice to boot.

Next up is my current high rotation band - The Hold Steady. 

The Hold Steady - Hot Soft Light.   What can I say?  I love this band, and if you haven't heard them yet, do so.  You can even get a sample for free at their website, www.theholdsteady.com.  My favorite album of the moment is "The Hold Steady Almost Killed Me", but today's selection comes from their more recent "Boys and Girls in America."  Their sound invokes Thin Lizzy, Bruce Springsteen, et al.  I'll admit, however, that I can't stand "The Boss."  What sets The Hold Steady apart is the lyrics.  For example:

"it started recreational.
it ended kinda medical.
it came on hot and soft and then
it tightened up its tentacles.
the band played screaming for vengance
and we agreed. this world is mostly manacled.
it started ice cream social nice.
it ended up all white and ecumenical."

You know from my previous incomprehensible ramblings that I'm a sucker for a clever rhyme.  Besides, aren't we all manacled to our inevitable urge to return to the familiar upon a failure?  It's always easier to drift back than push forward, or at least it feels that way.

Time for another beer and shot, I think I'm approaching it.

...

Pass the dust, I think I'm Bowie...yes, on to the next selection.

Black Randy and the Metro Squad - I Slept in an Arcade.  It's hard to describe Black Randy and the Metro Squad, and you'll probably never hear them.  Although I usually try not to talk about music that is unavailable, it's hard to resist this "band."  Sample  lyric:

"I wore fine clothes ad drank mixed drinks
I watched the pope fight Leon Spinks
Joe's old nip mama was my maid
Flat Face poured amyl like lemonade."

The album (Pass the Dust, I think I'm Bowie, Dangerhouse Records, 1979) contains such classics as Barefootin' on the Wicked Picket, Down at the Laundrymat, and Marlon Brando) will likely never be released on CD, so your only chance will be to meet someone who still has an old copy on vinyl.  And I doubt that will happen, so you should probably just forget this mention.

why I stopped...