the worst one yet...

It’s in the 40s outside tonight. That makes me angry. The steam rising from ponds by the side of the road. That makes me angry, too.

Cold weather means winter is coming. There is no stopping it. I could run from it. Head South. However, at some point, I’d hit a snag.

Water in some places. Borders to cross in others. It’s a shame how much we can’t travel anymore. If this was 1401, the only thing I’d have to worry about would be falling off the edge of the Earth. No one would care if I got in my boat and sailed.

Born in the wrong time.

Hell, if it was 1957 I could hitch my way somewhere else. Someone would even pick me up. Well, maybe not me now. At 40 years old. Hoboism sounds so good.

Now? You get on the Internet and look at photos of some place you want to go. Chat with someone who actually lives there. Instantly. At your fingertips. Seems to me that takes some, if not all, of the adventure out of it.

But I’m cynical.

I watched a guy at work today really mistreat his dad. He has for two weeks now brought in his dad.

He sits there in a wheelchair, barely able to speak. The kid scoffs at his words and yells at him when he doesn’t do what he wants him to do. Two weeks I’ve had to watch this unfold. The kid gets meaner and meaner every day. It’s like he’s gaining confidence that we won’t say anything. Do anything.

He’s wrong.

The seeds were planted today. As he cussed him out and then wheeled him into the bathroom. I went a bit later, and there was pee all over the floor. I’m guessing son didn’t want to help father too much.

It’s sad.

Another guy at work and I, we decided if it continues, we’ll say something. Has to happen.

That was after the son asked the dad for money. “I paid for this dinner,” he said. “You owe me $5.”

Fuck. What a miserable existence.

There have been many times when I hated my dad. Or thought I did. But I never really did. I’ve stood up to him. He’s stood up to me. We will never be lovey-dovey to each other. But we respect each other now. A lot more than before. I get him a little more. I don’t think he gets me. It’s ok though.

I’ll see him tomorrow. Just for a bit. Going to be a long one. Work for 8 hours. Drive 90 minutes to watch the fights. Then drive 3.5 hours home. Sleep a few hours. Drive to Richmond. Go to festival. Drink some. Talk some. Then try to sleep. Get up. Do laundry. See parents. Go to sleep. Get up, drive to work. Five more days wasted. Then some days off. Two Lucero concerts. Good stuff all around. No money to do it with, but hey, has that ever stopped me before? Yes. A lot more lately, in fact. I guess I may finally be growing up. A bit, at least. I was hoping not. So, we’ll see.

I look at my wrist. There are two ugly bug bites there. They itch like hell. I scratch them. Immediately regretting doing so, because now they are itching and inflamed. I can’t remember a bug ever being on me in the last few minutes. How did these bites get there? Are they flea bites or mosquitoes? And who thinks about mosquito bites in October? I guess everyone. That was a stupid question. But you can’t ask one, a journalism professor once said to me. Well, he said it to everyone.

I disagree. I’ve asked plenty of dumb questions…Usually involving women. But not always.

Maybe I should learn to play the tuba?

Take a cooking course?

Fan the flames?

Take up smoking?

Shoot up heroin?

Fuck a transvestite?

Eat raw eggs like Rocky?

Stuff a sock in my pants before work?

Draw a line in the sand?

Jump out of a third floor window?

Sleep in the road?

Get a pet spider, name him Harry?

Put a personal ad on Craig’s List?

Only listen to the Dixieland cassette tape for 10 days straight?

Eat Strawberries?

Drink SoCo and Limes for lunch at work?

I did finally say something to the cute girl at work. She’s married, but I finally said something to her. She smiled. That always makes things better. Even chasing the unobtainable. Why stop now, right?