I’ll give him credit. The dude has hung with me for going on 15 years now, I’m sure shaking his head on occasion after yet another phone call of me ranting my nutty and positing of what we should do now and who we should condemn. From Rob Manfred pissing me off as he fucks with my one true constant and love to the orange elephant that fills the room with a two handed glass and proud ignorance. But he has hung with me amid a seeming crazy on my part, has surely nodded on the other end of the phone with a rolled eye and a check of his wrist, our talk of cats and dogs and dogs and cats and the world. I might seem to be an easy guy, but I’m not. I’m something of an asshole. You wouldn’t want to live with me unless you’d be alright with a solitude for companion. There’s a reason I’m single, though single shouldn’t define you, as if you are lacking, but I am an asshole. Yes, a single one. But he has hung with me nonetheless.
We talk, have talked about how the world is just the world doing what it does at will and we just try to weather it from lost marriages to lost jobs to pandemics that scare the shit out of us to lost bits of our sanity, to a frightening divide that is intentionally widened by the day with flags and bibles and guns (fuck you baby General) but to always get up, knees scraped, and have another phone call to bitch about such.
He reminds me that all is surely … ummm … well … weller than I thought, kind of, reminds me that cats in a lap are a good thing, new puppies as well, not pathetic and I try to remind him that some things are just flat out shitty, maybe just not meant be. Not meant to be? Jesus Steve, seriously?! Did you just say that? “not meant to be”? Could you be any more empty and generic? I would make an awful life coach.
No, I try to remind him, maybe my own reminding while I’m at it that an affordable roof and cat food (or dog food) is all that matters. A breathing too. You just do what you need to around that.
He reminds me of youth and that I’m not done quite yet. That there is still time before a retirement of a tall bridge or the lottery.
He lives amid this shitty world now as best can be expected, does stuff, still works, as do I (the working, not the doing stuff which I have no care for) enjoying time with friends and maybe even strangers in the background of photographs. He’s a social kind of guy, something I could be envious of if only that were my thing. It’s not but he reminds me that that is ok. We are our own. He retreats to the comfort of fur on a lap just like me at the end of a day. So maybe I’m good.
Good talk my friend.
C’mon Memes, lets his the rack. It’s a nice pillow, brand new, just twelve bucks from Dollar General with two others … I know, three pillows for 12 bucks … a steal huh? Boom!! Mic drop!! (though on one of the pillows, these mic’s are fuckin’ expensive) Hey Bell, where you at? Cricket?