Friday, September 16, 2011
Pain can be felt in so many ways. A tightness in the chest brought on by hopelessness. Moisture in the eyes not quite forming a tear. The way distance spreads like a director playing with a camera lens. Odd memories make you come up short. You struggle to remember the last time you were content. Happy. The last time you held your Lover close in your arms. The feel of her breasts on your hands, in your mouth. The last time you lifted your child over your head or played "oopsy-daisy" with her - you holding one arm and your wife, your partner the other. Friend, companion, confidante. Bitch. Plaintiff. Ex-wife. The broken vessel of your dreams. You think of the happy memories and briefly you almost smile and then the loss is redoubled. Life is strife without end, and that is on the good days.
Allow me to introduce myself. American, Male, White, 46, a college graduate, an Attorney, a Father, Conservative, Jew, a loser. Haven't held a "good" job in four years. Haven't held a full time job in three years. Haven't held a part-time professional job in seven months. Serial screw-up. A leach. In debt up to my eyeballs. Defaulted on most of my credit cards, but they won't be able to make me pay. After all, I'm a Lawyer or at least I used to be. I'll bury them in paper. And feel like scum throughout. Can't declare bankruptcy because student loans are forever. And I can't get enough of that Obama unemployment money because nothing I like more than doing nothing for nobody for no reason no how. To think I once enjoyed responsibility. Once had savings. Once was an occasional role model. Sucker. Fool. What could be better than this? Boo-Yah!
But, one night a week I do get to go to Walmart and put a few thousand pounds of pet food on the shelves. Cause you can't find cheap health insurance just anywhere. Shitty plan, but at least when I get hit by a bus the doctors will get most of their cash. And let's face what else could I expect to be doing in my 40's? And the pain. The sweet ache after you finish hauling freight all night. And when you muscles tighten up a few hours later so you can barely make it to the john to take a leak. Nirvana.
God, I'm living the dream.
I must have really pissed of karma in a previous life. Wonder what I did?
There have been many great American success stories. I'm not one. I'm like an old negative. The great American failure. Marriage. Gone. Career. Never was. Fatherhood. Lacking. Finances. A cesspool fouled with excrement. Prospects. An illusion. Hope. Something you once had, but cannot regain.
Woke up this morning. Surfed the net. Watched parts of a bad movie. Cooked breakfast - ate too much as usual. Oatmeal, eggs & a tortilla with some cheese. Only 150 pounds too heavy so why worry. Let the cats outside at least I can still provide for their needs. Got a surprise when Junior brought a sparrow inside. Took it from him and put it down...for good. Highlight of the day so far unclogging a toilet and killing a bird with a shovel. Times like this sucking on a bullet doesn't seem like such a terrible choice.
Practiced counting cards. Have basic strategy down pretty much cold, but found an application to practice counting. Need to increase the speed until have it down pat. Figure a few weeks. Then what? Go to a casino? Am I that desperate? Yes. Is it foolish? Probably. People do make a living at it - why not me? Maybe that serial fuck-up tag should be considered. I don't know. No harm in practicing. Not like I don't have the time. All of this is a reflection on three sayings -- "desperate times lead to desperate measures"; "necessity is the mother of invention"; and "idle hands make the Devil's work". Great career plan for when the money runs out. Play cards - see the world. Insanity. But, when the only choices are bad ones...
Listening to Lady D'Arbanville while I type. A terrible beauty. Perhaps the most depressing song ever sung.
My Lady D'Arbanville why does it grieve me so? That your heart seems so silent, why do you breath so low, why do you breath so low? My Lady D'Arbanville why do you sleep so still? I'll wake you tomorrow and you will be my fill, yes you will be my fill. My Lady D'Arbanville you look so cold tonight, your lips feel like winter, your skin has turned to white......I loved you my Lady though in your grave you lie. I'll always be with you this rose will never die, this rose will never die.
Sorry, Cat Stevens -- my flowers are petals on the floor. Ahhh, pain my good friend so nice of you to visit so often. And the tears flow free. Probably a good idea to put on some more upbeat music.
Working at the carwash, yeah! Talkin' about the carwash, yeah!
Monday, September 19, 2011
More myself today, at least as of 8:30 in the morning. Worked at Walmart, Saturday night - worked the furniture & automotive departments -- can't say I did a particularly good job. They had reorganized where things were located since the last time I worked those departments so it was hard to find where things were located. Wasted time. And, of course, like Pets working furniture translates into a 3 alleve morning. Some good news, they asked me to become a cashier. Less wear and tear and more money. Who knows I might break the $10/hour mark. Standards of success are not what they once were. When I went home was never able to really get to sleep. Though, I did sleep through Kate's sax practice so I'm thankful for small blessings. Finally started to sleep, when Karen sent Kate to wake me up. Insisted on fixing the screen door the cats had destroyed. I had promised, but timing sucked. The schizophrenia was bad - Karen and I laughing and joking and heading while every second I speed towards my permanent departure. Last night, gathered with Jim, Dave, Troy (the new neighbor) and Aaron to watch the Eagles game in the driveway. Made the first fire of the season. A good time despite the Eagles loss due to Michael Vick's concussion. We're supposed to gather again tonight for Monday Night Football. Karen won't be pleased, but c'est la vie.
Had some time to reflect on these reflections on life. Depressing, hopeless ramblings. As always, I know what I need to do to turn my life around. Dig down and find discipline. But, nothing is further from my persona. Need to regiment my life. A solid routine. I've become comfortable with my hopelessness, afraid to take risks, afraid to fail again, knowing that I'm headed for the precipice.
This morning has been more of the same - taking up time and space marking time. Need to do one thing. Clean a room. Write a job letter. Make a call. Did - not much. Went to the store for Kate - she's ill. Started fixing a grill, didn't finish. Minor cleanup. Did contact Sxxxxx about following up, just didn't actually get anywhere. Need to do better. Always seem to need to do better. When was the last time you were on top of the game? When was the last time you felt confident? When was the last time you felt satisfied with what you had accomplished - lose or fail? Two years? three? More like five, probably? Why didn't (old company name) work out? Where did you fail? Or did you? God, I wish Shirley were still alive so I could talk to her if only for a few minutes. She always made me laugh.