thumbs

This whole sitting around stuff is getting mighty old.  I’m trying to stay stimulated now that I’m no longer slipping into self-induced numbness in the cold hours of the night.  I eat.  I double click the same dozen or so websites 20 times a day.  TV is a bore.  It’s too cold to go outside for any length of time…and I can’t seem to get my apartment just the right temperature to sit still.  And how the hell am I supposed to keep my back straight sitting in this stiff chair that hurts my knees as much as it hurts my ass?

I did manage to tap into my love of music, if ever so briefly.  Dancing around my apartment like I was 18 again was fun…until I jammed my ankle something fierce and spent the next day and a half hobbling around and unable to sustain pressure on my cars accelerator pedal.  My now years long passion for comic books is fading faster than my hairline, and I’m living off $5 a day.  Fun times.

My camera works again…only it’s now woefully obsolete.  In order to take any sort of clear picture I’ve got to maintain a rigid stiffness that I imagine a ballerina would have trouble holding.  If only I could just bring myself to jump back into Skyrim and lose myself in the life of my Wood Elf self.  Or re-start my NBA basketball career playing for the Utah Jazz.  I was the leading scorer averaging nearly 20 a game for Christ’s sake?  What’s wrong with me?  I know a good movie would make me feel better…yet I can’t bring myself to load a single disk.  And don’t get me started on the ‘young couple’ that just moved into our building and instantly turned it into a Kramer’s smokers lounge.

‘I’d like to be Superman, but you’re standing on my cape!’

I’m waiting for a call that seems less likely with each passing day.  Other options?  I’ve got them, but Jesus if I wasn’t psyching myself up for a real step forward.  Brain won’t turn off.  Sleep is an impossibility at this point.  Twisting, turning, staring-at-the-clock torture.  Even with clean sheets.  How did the Babe sleep at night?  Drunk off his ass with the lingering shadow of home runs dancing in his head.  Maybe I really do need to get a dog…even if it’d probably end up spending more to feed it than me.  Something, anything to get me thinking about something other than my pathetic self.  Fuck you green lines, I know what I’m saying!

Kids, kids everywhere…what the fuck?

Is this growing old?  I can’t imagine our parents were this sappy about their offspring.  I have more memories of spankings than hugs…yet my generation seems hell-bent on turning that around by turning our kids into mini–celebrities.  My kids cuter than yours.  Just wait.

Oh I’m so bitter.  Its disgusting, I know.  Its why I don’t have any friends.  I must just reek of unapologetic disdain.  No, that’s not true…I’m totally apologetic about it…I just can’t help but be honest.  And its that honesty that continues to pave the road ahead with tar and ice.  Watch your step Neil…the good intentions only lead to slip and falls.

And then there’s the girls.

Hell if I know what’s going on there.  Nuclear strikes one minute, blackouts the next.  Is she or isn’t she?  Was I really that abrupt and unpleasant?  Did I push so hard and pull away so fast it left her spinning like an off-balance top?  I suppose my subconscious isn’t surprised…but then, I’ve been trying to avoid his negativity during this rebuild.  Think positive.  Push out the bummers and embrace the what-if-it-all-goes-right.  Hilarious.  Is everything a joke?  Are we all just bitter comedians trying to come up with the stingiest one-liner?  The one that cuts so deep it opens up dialogue so pure it comes pouring out like lava?  Fuck the police!  Rambo on the California coast.  Shoot first, look closely later.  Talk out the side of your mouth as long as you can, cause nothing good comes from scraping away the hyperbole and lies.  Only fuels the critics and cynics and rotten hearts.  God, there are so many miserable people who only want to make everyone else miserable.  I don’t think I’m one of them…but then I look at what I’m doing here and I’ve got to believe my attempts at steam-of-consciousness honesty only serves to add more negativity to the cosmic debate.  A good night sleep sounds good right about now.  Fresh air and all that.  Warm bodies pressed against each other…hot breath…another heartbeat to distract the silent stare into the abyss.  Have another shovel’s worth.

I should have kept driving.