It can be awkward. Letting someone into a mind that’s been
solo for so damn long. So long, in fact, that it doesn’t know how to let
somebody inside anymore. You spend too much time blocking things, stopping
them, avoiding them, eventually, they stop a callin’.
Someday I’ll find a way to describe the longing inside of
me. Find a way to explain it. Make the words come out right so that it doesn’t
hurt her feelings when I say them. But I just don’t know how to right now.
There’s so much inside of me that I don’t like. It’s like an
infection or an abscessed tooth. You know it’s not good to keep around, but you
don’t do anything about them. You could mow the lawn, or you can let it grow.
Eventually turning to weeds and dandelions, which of course, are just weeds.
Moments come and moments go. They seem right, but turn
wrong. It’s impossible to explain that moment, but you always know it when it
happens. Yet you’re powerless to stop it. And then you wonder if you would have
tried with the ability to do so?
I think about my dad sometimes. The state he’s in now. I
seem to be heading in a similar direction, and it scares me. I don’t like where
he’s at. I’ve rarely liked anything about the man. But every so often he shows
the good that’s inside of him, and I fear that I am just like him. So many have
told me that I shut them out, I keep them at arms’ length. Of course I don’t
see it that way. Who does though?
Words are a struggle sometimes.
Eating is easy. Eating right isn’t.
I used to exercise because it was my mode of transport. Then
I got a car, a job and I got fat.
The tingling won’t go away like it used to. It scares me. A
little more every day.
I hear songs in my head when I type certain phrases. It
annoys me.
I wanted to go to the circus. But I didn’t.
The eagle crashed in my back yard. I looked at it. It looked
at me. Then another eagle swooped down and clawed the other eagle. I guess
eagles fight too.
My beard annoys me. I think it’s a problem.
Trying to do this every night has been a breeze. Until now.
I need a beer. Or six.
The dogs sit on my carpet and never stop moving. It’s
strange. I’ve never seen two dogs who just can’t settle down and crash out. One
is just old. The other is nervous. Guess that could be me.
One day I stood in front of Barry Bonds. I stuck out the baseball
and he signed it. I didn’t say a word. I was 16 or 17 years old and still had a
bowl haircut. He must’ve been really impressed.
There are days when I wish I’d now crashed my bike. Even
though the scars are cool. The aches in my jaw aren’t.
The cockroach stumbled out of the house when I came home
today. It seemed like it didn’t want to be inside. I wonder what is so bad
inside? Maybe he just wanted to see his friends, the outdoors cockroach family?
It used to inspire me to listen to certain music. Inspire me
to get sad. Inspire me to drink. Inspire me to write. I don’t think it inspires
me anymore. Love is like that. It comes, it flourishes and then it goes away.
Leaving you behind to wonder what the fuck happened.
The tuba sat in the pawn shop window for 11 years. The price
never changed -- $150. So, Edward decided to change it. He made it $175, but
also put a big “On Sale” banner next to it. Damned if the thing didn’t sell the
very next day.
So he tried it with other things. And without fail, they
sold.
This was the beginning of advertising. And lies in
advertising.
Ok, it wasn’t the beginning of advertising. Or lies in
advertising. Just lies in advertising for Edward the Pawn Shop guy.
My neck crackles every time I move it. I wondered a few
years ago what it was, so sure it was a clogged artery that would one day kill
me. My doctor laughed at me. Said I was fine. Now, I’m not so sure about his
diagnosis. He really didn’t inspect me too well. He was a drunk, like me, after
all.
The dog is staring at me. He hates me I think, but is so
desperate for any kind of attention and love, he hangs out. He lies on my feet.
He wags his tail. But he also pees on me. Which if you’re not getting paid for
isn’t very fun.
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