What Is This?

Tough stretch.

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights I attempted to set a new world's record for lack of sleep. I was a walking zombie. Thursday and Friday nights I tried to kill insomnia with whiskey, Saturday and Sunday - with gentleness. Last night I was beyond tired. Tired in a weird way. So I gave in and went to bed at 10:15.

I slept straight through until 6:30 this morning. Miracle of miracles.

My mind is fertile today. I cannot explain this adequately, but there are times when my brain is percolating, and if I didn't sit down to write, my body would explode.

I am reading Dave Grohl's book - The Storyteller - Tales of Life and Music. It is firing up my emotions through the roof. Unexpectedly.

He believes that there is a period in your life that makes you. "There is that golden moment in any child's life when independence and identity intersect, steering you in your ultimate direction." In other words, you realize you are independent from your parents and you have a sense of who you are.

I believe I was robbed of both of those. My parents did not encourage independence and I had no identitiy. Still don't. Disclaimer: I moved away from my parents in 1978 - since then any brain/life damage is my own fault.

He talks about how devastating Kurt Cobain's death was to him. And he says "There are people in your life that you try to prepare to lose."  In other words, you see it coming. 

I hope that isn't me. The possibility slapped me viciously in the face when I read those words. I am self-destructive, I am angry and depressed - unhappy. Am I stressing out family and friends? It is not my intention.

Grohl talks about the death, many years later, of a lifelong friend. The emptiness, the memories that will always be a part of him. When I am gone, I think I will leave a bigger hole than I think I will.

I still have time. I would like to increase the size of that hole.

I feel like something is happening with me. I hope so. Got me a therapist, cut back on the whiskey since Friday night, been exercising in a very limited way over the past few weeks (fucking knee still hurts), been thinking.................really taking a harsh and honest look at myself, the hope being that airing out my many weak spots will embarrass me into doing something about it.

Two thoughts bounce around my brain - 1) Holy Shit! -  I am 68 years old. I'm fucked.  2) I am only 68 years old.

I got a steep hill to climb. Untangling my twisted psyche will be no small feat; I hope this therapist is good. I gotta lose a shit-ton of weight. Morbid obesity plays a big part in how shitty I feel, and it is severely impeding the recovery of my knee. I gotta find an avenue for earning money that doesn't slash and stab my soul every fucking day. We are vulnerable; I fucking HATE that feeling.

I gotta get me some grit.

Grohl tells a story (get it?) where he tripped and fell off a stage, broke his leg and mashed his ankle - absolutely destroying it. A doctor tried to get him to a hospital - Grohl refused, determined to finish the concert. The doc wrapped the ankle, they got him onstage in a chair with the doctor supporting the ankle - on stage - they finished the concert. At one point Grohl looked down at the doc and said "Isn't this cool?" Talking about being on stage in a stadium full of people.

Grit is something I don't have. Gotta get me some. You can't survive life without it, as evidenced by who I am currently. Life will kick you, stab you, spit on you, break you, laugh at you - life is not gentle and it is not a spectator sport. Without grit, you are Gumby.

I feel good today. Physically (kind of) and mentally (kind of). "Kind of" is as good as it gets right now. I have been dead for 58% of 2022. Maybe I am coming alive. I hope so. I have been dead many times before and come back in one form or another. This time feels truly overwhelming.

It also feels truly imperative. A matter of life & death. Because I am so fat and unhealthy and mentally fucked up and emotionally fucked up that I can't possibly survive it. Right?

Periodically I tell myself that I have Keith Richards' constitution. How can I possibly still be alive after decades of amazing alcohol consumption, drug use, intense unhappiness, stress, anger, self-loathing, lack of sleep, lack of self-respect - how the fuck do you survive all that?

Many people have died over the years trying to keep up with Keef. Think I'll try another approach.

I hope these words don't make you feel hopeful. I've let you down before, I don't want to disappoint you again. Think of this as something to chew on, to ponder and evaluate.

I will do the same.