"Somethin' 'Bout A Sunday"
David bin Lantern
Yes, I know there's something somehow naughty about being slightly
more than half drunk at 3:39 in the afternoon. In my own defense, as
if I needed self-defending, let me remind you that it is a Sunday
afternoon after all, so in my daytime boozing on this occasion I
probably fit right in with most of the men of drinking age (legal or
not) around here. And at least it didn't cost me any money: I've been
sitting on my rocking chair on my porch reading a Douglas Coupland
novel and finishing off the liter of bourbon I bought in the Spring-
time sometime, leaning over from time to time to mess with the cheap
meat I'm burning on the grill this time.
Besides which, I am after all a middle-aged man with no job, no kids,
no "life-partner," no accomplishments and no future, so it makes no
difference what I do, least of all to anybody at all "respectable";
that I don't do this every day is only out of deference to some
middle-class values I don't even subscribe to (and that I couldn't
afford to maintain even if I wanted to). Facing the facts, there is
nothing to dissuade me from making a habit of this except an image in
my mind's eye of someone giving me That Look and wagging her skinny
finger. To which I reply, because no defense is called for, "Fuck 'em
if they can't take a joke."
Speaking of which, it just struck me that I've been sitting here
"rebelling against middle-class normalcy" by bragging about being a
drunken nobody that nobody cares about. That's even more ironic than
rain on your wedding day, and twice as bathetic. Please, somebody
shoot me; in the words of (a character imagined by) one who's been
said to have defined my generation, "I'd kill to be murdered."
At least there's a bright side: in the morning I'll still be ugly, and
probably hung over too.
Smirkingly,
TheDavid
--
"Ne vestigium quidem ullum est reliquum nobis dignitatis."
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bob
>Yes, I know there's something somehow naughty about being slightly
>more than half drunk at 3:39 in the afternoon. In my own defense, as
>if I needed self-defending, let me remind you that it is a Sunday
>afternoon after all, so in my daytime boozing on this occasion I
>probably fit right in with most of the men of drinking age (legal or
>not) around here. And at least it didn't cost me any money: I've been
>sitting on my rocking chair on my porch reading a Douglas Coupland
>novel and finishing off the liter of bourbon I bought in the Spring-
>time sometime, leaning over from time to time to mess with the cheap
>meat I'm burning on the grill this time.
It's my shuteye time. I sleep 4 hours or so each night during the
weekdays and a lot more on the weekends.
I have my own room these days. My choice. We are still intimate (as
much as those who no longer care are). Our sleep habits are different.
She sleeps well but moves a lot at night. It wakes me. Since I only
sleep 4 hours max most nights I value the time I sleep.
The kids move around enough that the problem still exists in my new
room. Noise canceling headphones help but they restrict movement.
Valerian root helps for a while. One, then two, the four, the no
effect at four so why bother.
I was in Boston this week. I was in love with someone back then. Never
even a kiss or caress between us. Nothing ... never.
Decision points.
>Besides which, I am after all a middle-aged man with no job, no kids,
>no "life-partner," no accomplishments and no future, so it makes no
>difference what I do, least of all to anybody at all "respectable";
>that I don't do this every day is only out of deference to some
>middle-class values I don't even subscribe to (and that I couldn't
>afford to maintain even if I wanted to). Facing the facts, there is
>nothing to dissuade me from making a habit of this except an image in
>my mind's eye of someone giving me That Look and wagging her skinny
>finger. To which I reply, because no defense is called for, "Fuck 'em
>if they can't take a joke."
I got really pissed yesterday about something. I can't recall what it
was. My days are like that sometimes.
Closer to home .. my wife is losing her memory. I'm hoping it's her
high dose RA drugs. Good chance. The alternative sucks worse.
>Speaking of which, it just struck me that I've been sitting here
>"rebelling against middle-class normalcy" by bragging about being a
>drunken nobody that nobody cares about. That's even more ironic than
>rain on your wedding day, and twice as bathetic. Please, somebody
>shoot me; in the words of (a character imagined by) one who's been
>said to have defined my generation, "I'd kill to be murdered."
I don't seem to want to die anymore. I fell asleep at 5:30 PM after
writing the last sentence. At 12:30 AM I moved into the master
bedroom. I was so cold that it took quite a while to warm up. The heat
is on dowstairs. 59F.
>At least there's a bright side: in the morning I'll still be ugly, and
>probably hung over too.
Happily, I'm not. I had some tortilla casserole for breakfast. I have
to look for my phone. We've moved to mainly vegetarian. The menu man
(youngest) got some red meat this week because it's easier for him to
cook and he always cooks when my wife is in Florida, which she will
be. I may tke a pass on it.