A Brilliant Sentence

I write differently than I talk.

Writing allows me creative license. Occasionally I talk the way I write but then people look askance at me. It doesn't work.

So I talk the way every one else does. Boring.

When I write I am truly me.

Given a blank page I cannot help myself. Even when writing emails at work.

On Monday I was filling in the boss about stuff at work (he wasn't in). Leaving him an email so he would be informed. This was around 4:15.

My last sentence was:

"Tomorrow at this time I will have a short whiskey in my hand as I listen to ocean waves softly whispering encouragement to my tortured psyche."

THAT is a motherfucking sentence. Could you write a sentence like that? You could not. I'm telling you right now. That sentence is worthy of a Pulitzer Prize. If they only gave Pulitzers for individual sentences.

That sentence could be the basis for a story. A book. A movie. It is wide open with possibilities, and creates an instantaneous mood while simultaneously raising questions.

It makes you wonder. It piques your curiosity.

Now if only I could find a writer talented enough to DO something with it.

I Must Be Dead

I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Today is September 1. Spiritually, summer is dead. We will have more good weather, maybe a lot of it, but Labor Day Weekend is essentially a funeral for people who appreciate living easy.

And yet I feel nothing. I felt nothing on May 1, June 1, July 1, August 1.

Typically I spend the 7 months of winter grinding my teeth, head down, guzzling whiskey, killing small birds and eating their bones.

When May 1 rolls around I immediately begin worrying about how quickly summer will go by. As each month ticks off I become more agitated until October 1 rolls around and the small bird population in the neighborhood again begins to diminish.

2019 shattered that pattern. And, honestly, it is a much more peaceful way to live. Winter did shatter me as usual but I watched the good weather go by with no panic.

I don't know why. It's possible I have just given up on ever having the life I want. Also possible I am maturing, learning how to deal with life on its terms which, I now understand, it dictates and I follow.

Period.

I know the second possibility sounds like a fantasy, especially if you have known me all my life, but the truth is I am painfully aware of the small time I have left to live and it is beginning to have an impact on my thought processes. 

Case in point. I just landed a second part time job as of this past Friday. Not a shit job like I have been looking at for months. A real fucking job. $17.78/hour, working for the City of Concord. 20 hours/week. I will keep my job at the Capitol Center, working two days a week there and two and 1/2 days a week for the City. Plus whatever shows at the Capitol Center I can squeeze into my schedule without killing myself.

When I worked at the thrift store part time I was miserable because the job was so far beneath my capabilities. There are many days at the Cap Center when I feel the same way. I make myself miserable because I cannot accept the situation I am in.

Now I am taking on two part time jobs and looking forward to it. Because after three wasted years of semi-retirement I can finally contribute to our financial welfare in a meaningful way. Ever since Carol had her health problems I have felt like a shit. Now I want to work my ass off, pay off bills and build up savings so we don't have to live in terror ever single fucking day.

And maybe we can afford to have a little fun along the way.

So, yeah, maybe I am dead. In some ways I feel nothing, in other ways I am more accepting. No clue where this will lead.

Hopefully to a little happiness and pride for Carol and me.

We deserve it.