Got the earbuds dug in deep ’cause it’s unlikely that I’ll be having any conversations beyond ordering another beer. Barmaid with beards, witches with snakes and a couple zombies thrown in for good measure, I can’t remember the last time I even bothered leaving the apartment for a Halloween. Hmm, the last Halloween of any significant memory was over 20 years ago when I went to a party w/ the ex-wife. From the front we looked like a couple w/ me in suit and tie. The hostess, my friend Paul, said, darn, they didn’t dress up. But when we turned around the back of our costumes were missing, like they’d been cut in a door. That was fun; and a very long time ago. I guess the costume since then has been a cloak of social invisibility.
I had a good visit geeking out with my brother on Sunday and had a pretty good conversation with sister Kats yesterday, but except for those two conversations i can’t remember the last time I’ve had a conversation of any significance with another adult since getting back from Vegas. Should i be concerned that the only people I seem to having conversations on a daily basis with are all under the age of fifteen? I mean, i love the fact that I can still relate and that they feel so free to talk to me about all the important things in their lives, but there’s a bit more to me than listening to the trials & tribulations of adolescence and handing out advice. Maybe I’m being crazy, but I think I’m capable of a bit more than this solo lifestyle.
Of course as soon as I’ve said the preceding, I’m reminded of my last weekend with you-know-who and how frustrating it can be to put ones need for affection in the hands of another who may decide that they don’t want any over-night company and decide to leave their own bed to make that point. Talk about adding insult to injury, I’d forgotten how shitty I can be to “sleep” with someone who seems to prefer an empty bed than one’s company. If I wanted that I would have stayed married to my ex- (though she was just as behind getting divorced as I was). I have to stop listening to Alania Morresette when I’m in one of these moods. There’s gotta be someone out there who can appreciate my introspective nature. Right? I don’t expect it to be easy but I’m getting fucking tired of feeling like all of my good qualities can’t even get me a damn call back from someone who’s supposed to love me. More than a few of my students would rightly and bluntly ask, WTF?!
As much as have no desire to return to those scary adolescent days, I remember falling totally in love with a new girl pretty much every weekend. I had no fucking clue but I plunged ahead in my hopefulness and ignorance. Were those really simpler times, because I seem to have mismanage them at least as much as my later years. Maybe there’s no such thing as “simpler times” for someone like moi. I hate to think that the whole point is to get so pissed and worn out by everything that I get to the point where I don’t give a shit and make another quantum leap into another unknown scenario (not I haven’t done that before). Like one cartoon buzzard said to the other, “Fuck this waiting for something to die, I’m gonna go down and kill something.” JBB
P.S., I take it all back. I just met a guy a bit older who was bumming beers and said his old lady had tossed him out on Halloween night, pointing to a plastic bag containing a change of clothes. I’m glad to be heading to my warm bed with no crazy wench questioning where I’ve been tonight. It doesn’t usually seem this way to me, but I guess there is some balance to the universe.
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