—I CAN’T IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

 

 

…Much of the time, I feel like I’m about as dumb as I look. 

And trust me, I know all about the importance of self-talk.

 

…For me, allergies are like a Slip-N-Slide that starts and never ends.

Asthma, on the other hand, is simply the end. 

 

…It’s just one of those nights, or mornings, where everything bumps up against everything else, like all those marooned shopping carts, strung around the lot, that no one needs anymore.

 

…If time really is elastic, toss me a box cutter, please.

 

…It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, yet it feels both familiar and disquieting.

 

…I can pretty much make every toddler I see smile back at me. Like yesterday, at lunch, this nearly one-year-old couldn’t stop grinning my way.

Toddlers and babies are on my side. 

So at least there’s that.

 

…When I was young, there was a period where I was sort of obsessed with vampires. “Dark Shadows” was the show that started it. 

I remember being alone a lot at the time then, being very confused about everything---adolescence, my life, my family, who I was—and up on the craggy hill, a long ways from our “house,” I’d hurl rock after rock, screaming into the void.

Since then, I don’t recall having screamed once.

 

…Dreams are so bizarre, right? Some of them can really fuck you up, if you think about them too much.

 

…Dreams were another obsession of mine. In college, I read up about dreams, Freud included, and I kept a notebook by my bedside where, upon waking, I’d document every detail I could remember about each dream. I’d actually try to wake myself up several times a night simply for the purposes of logging dream material.

Such a silly boy, right? 

But back then I thought dreams where magical. Or a portent.

Now, most of the dreams I remember are like a slow-motion slur, out of reach, something I can see but can’t grasp.

And their meaning? It still doesn’t make any sense.

 

…Almost every day, for a few minutes, I forget how old I am, and I’ll think I’m so much younger than the years I’m wearing. 

It’s always a little bit jolting, but not necessarily in a bad way.

 

…I’ve been coming here, every M, W, Friday, for a long time now. Maybe I’m wrong, but this place feels like the one friend who will never betray me.

 

…It’s a little too easy to doubt that you’re a good person. 

Sometimes those cracks look a lot wider than they are.

 

…As nonsensical as it is, some parts of pop culture are sacred to me. Hence, I’m very nervous about the upcoming film version of Dear Evan Hansen, as well as The Soprano’s prequel, and even the Dexter re-working.

Nobody needs another Godfather, Part 3, that’s for sure.  

 

…I’m at 72 books so far this year. There’s no way I won’t hit 100. Last year I stopped reading in February. As in, I didn't read a solitary book from February to the end of December 2020.

Because I wasn’t reading, and because I was mostly lost during that time, I actually put puzzles together in order to stay sane. Puzzles? What? 

That seems like lunacy to me now. 

But that’s who I was then, just trying to swim through the gloom by any means necessary.

 

…It’s going to be a long day, but isn’t that a good thing? 

Aren’t I so lucky?

Aren’t you?