FOUR DAYS (Apocalypse Now)

Here I go again.

I got fucked out of my fourth day off during the Memorial Day weekend; that ain't gonna happen this weekend.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday. Four glorious days. Holy days, really. I gotta get my brain right.

All I gotta do is survive tomorrow. No easy feat. 7 hours of intense boredon - SEVEN - punctuated by the occasional phone call or visit from some moron customer. Christ! This is no fucking joke. 7 hours in the box office is exquisite torture. Acid in the eyes, amputated limbs, bloodletting. Jesus fucking Christ - I am such a chump for putting myself in this position.

Going to a concert with Eddie on Saturday. I am not looking forward to the long ride to and fro and the late night, but once I am there I know I will enjoy it. Tedeschi-Trucks Band. And it will be good to spend some time with my brother.

But I am focused on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. I have to quiet the turbulence. Release some of the pain, regain some mental discipline. Right now I get out of bed every day like a drunken fucking sailor, rocking and reeling back and forth and up and down - righteous anger, depression, fear - you know, all that positive shit.

I HAVE to break out of this cycle.

In part, I need to get back to the things I was doing last year to focus my diseased brain, to train it, engage it, discipline it. I think I'll take a whack at that. 

I need to squeeze some fun throughout the four day respite - I NEED fun, I need to look away from anxiety and worry and despair.

I need a plan. An escape route. I need answers. But I'm not a plan guy or a budget guy or a rules and regulations guy. So I need to come up with a plan for coming up with a plan.

Hmmmm, sounds like dissembling, to me.

Peace is the most important gift I can give myself over the weekend. I am burning up inside with anger and frustration and hatred. I need peace. I need peace.

Gotta get a little health shit going on. I feel so shitty, so tired, so fat, so unhealthy. I am doing some of that right now, a little exercise here and there - hopefully I can ramp that up over the weekend.

So, yeah, I am talking about The Apocalypse this weekend. A big, fucking deal. I fucking need this even more than the last time I fucking needed it. Which has probably been every fucking four day weekend of my life. But this time..........................yeah this time IS a big fucking deal.

I need some peace. I gotta have it. And I need HOPE. Something I can set my sights on, something to nourish and sustain me as life fights to drain me.

Dexter+

 "Compartmentalization began as an architectural theory. Divide buildings into sections, which can be closed-off to prevent a fire from spreading. Life can also be divided into closed off sections. Makes everything much simpler."

I was going to comment on this and say that Dexter has something else in mind than I do, but compartmentalization is what I have been talking about. What I need to survive. Closing off sections. But then, later in the episode, he says:

"Compartmentalization is a joke. Fires rip through buildings all the time, no matter how closed off parts of them are. Life is the same way; it cannot be contained."

The second comment more accurately describes my life right now.

No Sleep Till Brooklyn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Holy shit, man - when you get old, your body fights back against you.

The Sleep Experiment: As you know I used to get to bed at 10 or 11 - wake up around 3 to go to the bathroom - lie awake until 5 and then fucking improvise from there.

I decided to move bedtime back to 12 or 1 to see if I could make it through the night. I could. I was ecstatic. I didn't wake up until 7, no 3 am bathroom break. This made me feel good about my intellectual powers - I reasoned through a problem and came up with a workable solution.

Until recently. Suddenly, I go to bed at 12 and wake up at 4:30 - and I have to go to the bathroom. Are you fucking kidding me?

I'm dying here. LOS. Lack of sleep. Exhaustion is cumulative - day after day, 4 hours sleep, you get more and more tired until you are a fucking zombie with jagged nerves and a hatred for all of humanity. Or in my case, a greater hatred for all of humanity.

Let's talk bowel movements. I used to go first thing in the morning and be done for the day. Fait accompli. Cross one item off the to-do list. Now, sometimes, I am taking a shit at 10:30 at night.

I don't need that. It is inconvenient. By 10:30 at night I am comfortably ensconced in the recliner, reviewing and regretting another day's defeats. Weary, yes, but comforted in the welcoming arms of this inanimate object that soothes me so.

Related Thoughts: All the wisdom you are force-fed over a lifetime is bullshit. Like you gotta get 8 solid hours of sleep to function. Nobody gets 8 hours of sleep. Nobody wakes up rested and refreshed.

So what do you do with half a night's sleep every night? You just fucking do. You fucking go to work. You walk around feeling high in a way that isn't pleasant. You are not supposed to feel good when you are old. It's in the rule book.

Eat 19 different vegetables every day. Get 30 minutes of aerobic exercise every day. Walk. Count your steps. Lift weights. Don't lift weights. It doesn't fucking matter. When you get old there will always be something to torture you.

LOS. Bad knees. Bad back. Arthritis. Morbid obesity.

And the worst part is that your old body fights back every time you try to make a positive change. It adapts to your adaptation and knocks you back three steps.

By the way, the lack of sleep may be playing into my anger and lack of patience and control at work. Maybe?

Generally: Right now I am just fucking angry. Irate. All the time. Every waking minute of every waking day. Unless I am too tired to be irate - then I am just aggrieved. Actually I back the anger off a little on my off days, but the undercurrent is there to remind me that all is not well. To keep me off balance.

I resumed my search for an empathetic ear - otherwise known as a therapist. Been striking out until recently - one of them said I was too dangerous for her to deal with, but that she could send some references my way. They must be her enemies. Doesn't matter - I'll take what I can get.

Started exercising on a limited basis - the fucking knee is still bothering me. But I trust the new guy - I will see him again in a week or two.

I'm still fucking fat.

I don't know, I am trying, but moving forward at 25 mph while my body deteriorates at 125 mph feels like a losing proposition.

Maybe if I start taking speed...................

Wimbledon!!!!!!!!!

 Once again, I am gorging at the trough.

What Is A Swiatek?

While I was watching the French Open I became intimately acquainted with Iga Swiatek.

She is ranked #1 in the world by the Women's Tennis Association, and is the youngest player ranked in the top ten. She's 21. When I was 21 I still couldn't tie my shoelaces.

She just won her opening round match at Wimbledon, extending her winning streak to 36. She has won 36 consecutive matches, giving her the longest unbeaten streak since Venus Williams set the record at 35 in 2000.

She has won the French Open twice, reached the semi-finals in the Australian Open this year, reached the first round at Wimbledon in 2019, and the second round at the US Open in 2019.

She is a fucking God.

I think I have run across her in the past, but I was probably numb with shock at the time as I considered options for escape from my paltry life. I was wide awake during the French Open and disgusted with myself for not knowing much of anything about her.

I know a lot about her now. Talk about dominating a sport. Impressive.

I will be following her through Wimbledon. Her, and my man, Rafael Nadal, who is currently playing Francisco Cerundolo in the first round and who won the first set 6-4, and is up in the second 4-2.

Please do something for me - please deposit $300,000 to my account, so I can pay off my fucking Eternal Mortgage and have a little left over for Arby's, and so I can buy tickets to the US Open.

Hint: The Open begins on August 29 - you have time to accumulate the necessary cash.

P.S. - I still can't tie my shoelaces. I am 68.

Some Thoughts

 "Sometimes people have to be allowed to have something to live for in order to survive everything else."

"The worst thing we know about other people is that we are dependent on them. That their actions affect our lives. Not just the people we choose, the people we like, but all the rest of them: the idiots. You who stand in front of us in every line, who can't drive properly, who like bad television shows and talk too loud in restaurants and whose kids infect our kids with the winter vomiting bug at preschool. You who park badly and steal our jobs and vote for the wrong party. You also influence our lives, every second.

Dear God, how we hate you for that."

From Us Against You, by Fredrik Backman

Dexter

 "I'm perfectly comfortable with bodily fluids: blood, snot, tears. But the emotions that go along with them, not so much."

Dexter