Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Back in the Saddle
So I'm out of wine. Wait, that's not true. I've still got a box of the stuff in my room, ancient relics from Christmas when I got lazy and decided my clients would live through the holidays without 'em. Nonetheless, I tired of drinking free booze and made a late night trip to the convenience store for some real liquor.
That's when I saw an old friend, a particular brand of el mucho cheapo brandy that doubles as kerosene, I'm sure. Must admit, it made me smile. Takes me back to another time, when all I wanted to do was drown myself in the stuff.
Took one off the shelf and promptly paid for it.
*****
Yes, another Saturday at home. Slept the whole day, too. It's a nice feeling, just watching the dust bunnies stage their impending assault behind the living room sofa. Was tempted to move 4 feet to get the vacuum cleaner, but hell, let 'em have their day. I'm too lazy to bother.
Which brings me to this blog, which I realize has not been replenished of my usual nonsense for almost a month. A few of you may wonder why, has my life finally found some direction and meaning? Have I taken a tour of India for some Eat, Pray Love bullshit? Did I slip and fall in the shower, laid comatose and becoming rat-food all this time? Nope, not yet anyway (though I'm sure the rats are still plotting). Chalk this one up to my inability to hold one single coherent idea for more than a minute.
Oh, and did you know I'm employed again? Yeah, I was unemployed for a week, but now I'm in voluntary slavery again. How is it? Fine, I guess. A little ruffled at all the actual work that is expected of me. I knew I shouldn't have put all those "achievements" in my resume. Now they think I'm some sort of wunderkind who has all the answers.
Why did I have to leave the old nest? That place where I installed myself as king of the third floor and made doing my job look a lot harder than what it really was (the real truth of it was that I really didn't do anything but lug around some notes and some official looking printouts and read the reports of my staff). And it wasn't like someone found out, too. When I told them I was leaving my third floor kingdom, they even made a counter offer! Maybe I should have taken it, it wasn't bad at all. And I almost did, too. If they just put it just a tinsy weensy bit more (like a dead horse's head in my bed, perhaps) I would've jumped on it.
Well, that's history now. And I've got this real (real) job where they expect me to do stuff for real (really) and expect me to produce real (I can't over-stress how real this is to me) results. I hate to say this, but the prospects of me hitting the streets is pretty real enough as well. THE REAL WORLD SUCKS!!! I want to go back to college and do nothing but copy off my seatmate and wait for the next booze-fest to begin. *sigh*
*****
Yes I know, I'm beginning to sound like a whining little bitch. Don't worry, I'm beginning to lose respect for myself as well. Even more than you guys are, probably. Whatever is that saying, 'Be careful what you wish for, because Santa just might give it and drop that big 55-inch television right on your head'?
Oh, if you're wondering, no I haven't bought myself a 55-inch television just yet off my salary. I was gonna, but settled for a bottle of cheap brandy instead. Tastes much better with ice, too. (What the heck am I blabbering about? Gee, I dunno. This is real cheap brandy, didn't I just say?)
That's when I saw an old friend, a particular brand of el mucho cheapo brandy that doubles as kerosene, I'm sure. Must admit, it made me smile. Takes me back to another time, when all I wanted to do was drown myself in the stuff.
Took one off the shelf and promptly paid for it.
*****
Yes, another Saturday at home. Slept the whole day, too. It's a nice feeling, just watching the dust bunnies stage their impending assault behind the living room sofa. Was tempted to move 4 feet to get the vacuum cleaner, but hell, let 'em have their day. I'm too lazy to bother.
Which brings me to this blog, which I realize has not been replenished of my usual nonsense for almost a month. A few of you may wonder why, has my life finally found some direction and meaning? Have I taken a tour of India for some Eat, Pray Love bullshit? Did I slip and fall in the shower, laid comatose and becoming rat-food all this time? Nope, not yet anyway (though I'm sure the rats are still plotting). Chalk this one up to my inability to hold one single coherent idea for more than a minute.
Oh, and did you know I'm employed again? Yeah, I was unemployed for a week, but now I'm in voluntary slavery again. How is it? Fine, I guess. A little ruffled at all the actual work that is expected of me. I knew I shouldn't have put all those "achievements" in my resume. Now they think I'm some sort of wunderkind who has all the answers.
Why did I have to leave the old nest? That place where I installed myself as king of the third floor and made doing my job look a lot harder than what it really was (the real truth of it was that I really didn't do anything but lug around some notes and some official looking printouts and read the reports of my staff). And it wasn't like someone found out, too. When I told them I was leaving my third floor kingdom, they even made a counter offer! Maybe I should have taken it, it wasn't bad at all. And I almost did, too. If they just put it just a tinsy weensy bit more (like a dead horse's head in my bed, perhaps) I would've jumped on it.
Well, that's history now. And I've got this real (real) job where they expect me to do stuff for real (really) and expect me to produce real (I can't over-stress how real this is to me) results. I hate to say this, but the prospects of me hitting the streets is pretty real enough as well. THE REAL WORLD SUCKS!!! I want to go back to college and do nothing but copy off my seatmate and wait for the next booze-fest to begin. *sigh*
*****
Yes I know, I'm beginning to sound like a whining little bitch. Don't worry, I'm beginning to lose respect for myself as well. Even more than you guys are, probably. Whatever is that saying, 'Be careful what you wish for, because Santa just might give it and drop that big 55-inch television right on your head'?
Oh, if you're wondering, no I haven't bought myself a 55-inch television just yet off my salary. I was gonna, but settled for a bottle of cheap brandy instead. Tastes much better with ice, too. (What the heck am I blabbering about? Gee, I dunno. This is real cheap brandy, didn't I just say?)
Friday, February 18, 2011
I've gotta stop talking to myself...
It's the year 2030, there I am walking slowly around the academic oval at the university. Funny feeling seeing yourself old and gray, and much weaker than you were. I hesitate approaching myself, not sure if the cosmos would take it well and decide to zap me into non-existence, but I'm already here and it would be utterly dumb to just do nothing at this point.
Then old me sees young me and squints, in disbelief. Future me stops his step awkwardly, wiping the sweat from his brow and wheezes a bit. Boy I should really stop smoking, I guess.
"Hey, you're me!", old me exclaims.
"Uhm, guess so. How are you, I guess?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?", crap, even in old age I'm that smug.
"Ok, I see I'm still alive so that must be a plus."
"Dumbass..."
*****
"So, you married?" I can't help but ask while he swirls his whisky, making the ice cubes jiggle and clatter against each other.
"Yeah."
"Do I know her?"
"Of course you do, dumbass!"
"Wow, so many years and you're still stuck with that word? Didn't your vocabulary get any bigger? I meant, do I know her in the present tense, in my time?"
"How old are you again?"
"Thirty-ish."
"Nah, I'm not telling. You just might spoil everything."
"Yeah, that's alright. Any kids, though?"
"You'll know soon enough." He flashes a smile, and I feel a big lump in my throat.
"REALLY?! You can't be fucking serious?!"
"Hahaha, I'm not saying, of course."
"Ass." I get back to my beer. It seemed so much more mature than present (future?) company.
"I'll tell you one thing, though..."
"Fucking finally!"
"Hey! You wanna hear it or not?"
"What already?!"
"You're life is great. Personally, I'm a little pissed that you came all the way here to check up on it."
"Well, you can't be too careful, you know."
"Dumbass."
"Did I knock my head on something in the future? I'm beginning to think I turn dumber with age."
"Aw shut up already. You're still alive and drinking in 20 years, that you know now. Isn't that enough?"
Oddly enough, now that I have seen myself old, I sense that the trip was a bit of a letdown. Why did I want to check up on myself? Because I wanted to know if I should stop smoking already?
"Listen kid, since you're here already, I might as well give you some advice."
"Like what?"
"Well, of course I've had some regrets. And though I don't really believe that I should dwell on those, the fact that you're here makes it all convenient, doesn't it?"
"What regrets?"
"If you ever decide to get a hooker, never for a second believe that they're mute. NEVER."
"Why?"
"Just remember that. Saves me a lot of embarrassment."
"Well, me needing a hooker between my age and yours is a bit of an embarrassment already, won't you say?"
"Here here!"
"Got anything else?"
"Yeah, call the folks more often than you do. Visit them more often, too."
"Really?"
"Yeah." I look down at my beer, not wanting to ask more of it. "Tell your sisters the same thing too. It's no big deal, really, you just don't want to feel like you never did enough, understand?" I nod.
It was awkward now, as we both just sat there drinking to ourselves.
*****
Apparently, I do not age well as I find myself having to endure older me belting out an Elton John tune in the full drunken state. Although I'll have to say that the for someone over 50 who finished about 8 shots of scotch, being awake is probably a bonus.
He points me to a park bench, and I stop my future car (a station wagon, of all things!) opposite it on a curb. Older me struggles to get out of his seat, though he did swat my hand away when I tried to help. He finds his bearing soon enough and lands his ass on the bench.
"Oh crap! I end up a bum at the park?!"
"For the love of God shut the fuck up! I'm not bringing you to my house, It'll spoil everything!"
"As long as I don't end up a bum, that's all right by me."
"Give me a cigarette." I hand one over to him and light it up.
"Ahh, I've missed these. I've had to stop smoking because of asthma."
"I don't have asthma."
"Not mine, dumbass!"
"Oh, okay. Just checking."
"You still have a copy of 'The Little Prince'?"
"No, I gave it away, remember?"
"Oh yeah, to that bitch, right!"
"You ever see her again?"
"One time, I think."
"Oh."
"Yeah, 'Oh'." The little asswipe grins.
"What about the book?"
"Get another copy, don't give it away this time. Read it again. It'll make you smart."
"Like you, 'dumbass'?"
"Yeah like me. Hell, you don't really have a choice, do you?"
"I do, actually. You might even like the odds."
"Don't you try being smug. I'm not the still watching porn."
"Oh shit, I turn impotent at 50! Ouch, what's the big idea!"
"I'm not impotent! Dumbass!"
"Of course, I'm pretty sure Viagra's gonna still be available... Ow!"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Alright, alright! Can't I take a joke?"
*****
"Why the station wagon?"
"Depth perception, I've been having trouble with it lately."
"I see. Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Seeing as you went through all that trouble to be here, I'm assuming that's the whole point, isn't it?"
"Yeah, whatever gramps. Anyway, are you happy?"
"Well, it ain't perfect that I'll say. That's such a fucked up question! And you're supposed to be smart? Jeez!"
"Oh come on! Can't you answer even that?!"
"It ain't the right question! You can't go asking anybody if they're happy, what the hell does that mean, anyway? If I were happy, then I wouldn't have been cursing my ass off when I missed the toilet bowl completely this morning, would I?"
"That's just great, I get to be that crabby old man in the neighborhood."
"No, I'm not. You just asked such a stupid question."
"What should I have asked then?"
"When you get to be my age, you never think about being happy. Just content."
"Content?"
"Yeah, you should ask, 'Are you content?'".
"Fine. Are you content?"
"Yeah, I am. Thanks for asking."
"I still don't get it."
"That's why I keep calling you a dumbass, dumbass!"
Then old me sees young me and squints, in disbelief. Future me stops his step awkwardly, wiping the sweat from his brow and wheezes a bit. Boy I should really stop smoking, I guess.
"Hey, you're me!", old me exclaims.
"Uhm, guess so. How are you, I guess?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?", crap, even in old age I'm that smug.
"Ok, I see I'm still alive so that must be a plus."
"Dumbass..."
*****
"So, you married?" I can't help but ask while he swirls his whisky, making the ice cubes jiggle and clatter against each other.
"Yeah."
"Do I know her?"
"Of course you do, dumbass!"
"Wow, so many years and you're still stuck with that word? Didn't your vocabulary get any bigger? I meant, do I know her in the present tense, in my time?"
"How old are you again?"
"Thirty-ish."
"Nah, I'm not telling. You just might spoil everything."
"Yeah, that's alright. Any kids, though?"
"You'll know soon enough." He flashes a smile, and I feel a big lump in my throat.
"REALLY?! You can't be fucking serious?!"
"Hahaha, I'm not saying, of course."
"Ass." I get back to my beer. It seemed so much more mature than present (future?) company.
"I'll tell you one thing, though..."
"Fucking finally!"
"Hey! You wanna hear it or not?"
"What already?!"
"You're life is great. Personally, I'm a little pissed that you came all the way here to check up on it."
"Well, you can't be too careful, you know."
"Dumbass."
"Did I knock my head on something in the future? I'm beginning to think I turn dumber with age."
"Aw shut up already. You're still alive and drinking in 20 years, that you know now. Isn't that enough?"
Oddly enough, now that I have seen myself old, I sense that the trip was a bit of a letdown. Why did I want to check up on myself? Because I wanted to know if I should stop smoking already?
"Listen kid, since you're here already, I might as well give you some advice."
"Like what?"
"Well, of course I've had some regrets. And though I don't really believe that I should dwell on those, the fact that you're here makes it all convenient, doesn't it?"
"What regrets?"
"If you ever decide to get a hooker, never for a second believe that they're mute. NEVER."
"Why?"
"Just remember that. Saves me a lot of embarrassment."
"Well, me needing a hooker between my age and yours is a bit of an embarrassment already, won't you say?"
"Here here!"
"Got anything else?"
"Yeah, call the folks more often than you do. Visit them more often, too."
"Really?"
"Yeah." I look down at my beer, not wanting to ask more of it. "Tell your sisters the same thing too. It's no big deal, really, you just don't want to feel like you never did enough, understand?" I nod.
It was awkward now, as we both just sat there drinking to ourselves.
*****
Apparently, I do not age well as I find myself having to endure older me belting out an Elton John tune in the full drunken state. Although I'll have to say that the for someone over 50 who finished about 8 shots of scotch, being awake is probably a bonus.
He points me to a park bench, and I stop my future car (a station wagon, of all things!) opposite it on a curb. Older me struggles to get out of his seat, though he did swat my hand away when I tried to help. He finds his bearing soon enough and lands his ass on the bench.
"Oh crap! I end up a bum at the park?!"
"For the love of God shut the fuck up! I'm not bringing you to my house, It'll spoil everything!"
"As long as I don't end up a bum, that's all right by me."
"Give me a cigarette." I hand one over to him and light it up.
"Ahh, I've missed these. I've had to stop smoking because of asthma."
"I don't have asthma."
"Not mine, dumbass!"
"Oh, okay. Just checking."
"You still have a copy of 'The Little Prince'?"
"No, I gave it away, remember?"
"Oh yeah, to that bitch, right!"
"You ever see her again?"
"One time, I think."
"Oh."
"Yeah, 'Oh'." The little asswipe grins.
"What about the book?"
"Get another copy, don't give it away this time. Read it again. It'll make you smart."
"Like you, 'dumbass'?"
"Yeah like me. Hell, you don't really have a choice, do you?"
"I do, actually. You might even like the odds."
"Don't you try being smug. I'm not the still watching porn."
"Oh shit, I turn impotent at 50! Ouch, what's the big idea!"
"I'm not impotent! Dumbass!"
"Of course, I'm pretty sure Viagra's gonna still be available... Ow!"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Alright, alright! Can't I take a joke?"
*****
"Why the station wagon?"
"Depth perception, I've been having trouble with it lately."
"I see. Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Seeing as you went through all that trouble to be here, I'm assuming that's the whole point, isn't it?"
"Yeah, whatever gramps. Anyway, are you happy?"
"Well, it ain't perfect that I'll say. That's such a fucked up question! And you're supposed to be smart? Jeez!"
"Oh come on! Can't you answer even that?!"
"It ain't the right question! You can't go asking anybody if they're happy, what the hell does that mean, anyway? If I were happy, then I wouldn't have been cursing my ass off when I missed the toilet bowl completely this morning, would I?"
"That's just great, I get to be that crabby old man in the neighborhood."
"No, I'm not. You just asked such a stupid question."
"What should I have asked then?"
"When you get to be my age, you never think about being happy. Just content."
"Content?"
"Yeah, you should ask, 'Are you content?'".
"Fine. Are you content?"
"Yeah, I am. Thanks for asking."
"I still don't get it."
"That's why I keep calling you a dumbass, dumbass!"
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