talking to dogs

I’ve been awake 35 minutes, and already I’ve taken three shits.

It’s going to be one of those days.

On the third, of course, toilet paper runs out. I guess it could be worse. These things could be happening to me in a Malaysian forest.

Two nights ago I was writhing on the floor. Agonizing as some awesome tasting, but eventually abortionally awful for my stomach food was trying its best to get out of me. I twisted and turned and moaned for hours in bed. Finally, I got out, laid on the floor against the cool tiles of the bathroom and I felt a bit better.

For about two minutes. The nausea subsided a bit, but the stomach kept gurgling. I stumbled too my feet and sat on the commode. Finally, a burst of hot, smelly awfulness came out of my asshole. It splashed the bowl with its wretchedness. I spent most of that night either on the toilet, gushing brown water, or on the couch so as not to disturb my beautiful, and very understanding girlfriend.

Today, my body has come back to say “You shouldn’t eat that crap” again. I respectfully decline its advice. I need my variety of foodstuffs. Even when they cause so much angst.

Sometime later today, I’m going to have to drive the two hours to work. I wonder to myself if I’ll be able to just move here and do that every day. Instead of an hour-long commute each day, double it. Double the toll on my car. Double the thought-provoking conversations I have with myself late at night as the miles pass by. Also, double the chances of me getting a ticket as well.

The separation gets old. But so does the constant pressure to find another job. “When are you moving up here?” “Why haven’t you moved yet?” “I don’t understand why you can’t find a job here.” Are statements I get to hear almost every time I go out with friends in the city. It’s draining. It’s soul-sucking. And I’ve been through it all before. This time, I’d like to think I’ll come out on the right end. But I can’t help but wonder if I’m just the hamster on the wheel again. Churning and burning, but going nowhere. Fast.

The other object of scorn is my lack of time or motivation to write when I’m around her. This, of course, is a sign of a good thing. I’m not toiling away at some misguided exercise of futility. Instead, I’m smiling and hugging and whatever else you want to imagine I do with my girlfriend. Some of it was true! – in best Joe Strummer voice.

It’s been four days since I sat down and wrote something. I feel extremely guilty about it. It’s why I got up early today. Must type something. Even if my inspiration comes while I’m taking a shit.

The dogs look at me sitting here in bed, wearing just my boxer briefs, typing on this $400 laptop. It’s one of the first things I’ve bought for myself and paid off in a timely manner. I set a goal, and I achieved it. The wonder of it all.

I can’t help but wonder what those two dogs are thinking. Is it really all about food, food, food. Pee, pee, pee. Or poop, poop, poop?

I’d like to have a conversation with them. A two-sided one that is.

I once took advice from a dog. My sister’s now dead Labrador. I asked a question, and the dog walked up to me, panted with that smiling face and pushed her nose up against my heart. I took that as “follow your heart.” And I did. It’s funny that I still remember that day. Pretty vividly, which is a rarity for me. I barely remember eating lunch yesterday in some generic, chain bar-b-que restaurant. But I remember that day.

There are times when I’d like to just pack up my stuff and get in my car and drive until I can’t drive anymore – most likely because the money ran out. I romanticize the hell out of that kind of action. Yet, since I turned 30, it’s been dead for the most part. The feeling of wonder and wander still is in me. It’s never far away. But the acting on it, that rarely occurs. Yeah, I’ve still taken a few roadies, some of them way too expensive, and I’ve enjoyed them. But I used to have that feeling of adventure in me. And I acted on it all the time. Now? It seems to hibernate more often than gesticulate. And that, really makes no sense. Good as any place to end this….