simple-story

Got a call from a friend of mine (Friday) while I was still toiling away in the radio salt mines (yes I know, I can be so dramatic). It had been a been a day of pounding that salt into fine powder, one that had lingered longer than the usual, giving me a right on angry headache, even more headache than the usual Friday where shit always lingers and aches said head, salted, longer than any other day of the week. “production Fridays”.

Yeah, they are a “thing” in my small salt production world, with so much stuff, last minute, that just “HAS” to start on Monday.

But when I got that phone call I realized I wasn’t on my way home, and that was my cue to be done. damn the torpedoes Tom and the Mondays, as when these phone calls happen we are usually on our ways. Just some talk while we have our quiet time through some short time drives. There is something to be said of our time in cars.

But I adjusted, just paced instead into a studio where I could talk loudly outside the morgue quiet of my digs on a Friday night (I talk loudly, like wake the dead loudly, so I try to be respectful if I can even if no one may be around)

These calls are check-ins, have always been check-ins, sometimes more for one side than the other, depending, make sures of still breathing (with the hopeful picked up phone for confirmation) make sures of things that friends check in on for a bit of normalcy like how are the cats, what about that game and the latest gimmick that pisses you off or how is the better half or the newbie and his ever growing feet and newfound baseball fascination and new working, ever evolving mind and new singular habits doing?

I have been lax lately on new stuff in the Attic, other than my latest “poem” (poem in quotes as I am not quite sure of it), but I just haven’t “felt it”, haven’t felt need to anything new, I just haven’t for reasons, reasons I couldn’t tell ya of as I don’t know them.

But this friend was checking in with me, this time, really, for just that.

You see, he’d actually listened to me when I have said, to him and to others in the past, you don’t need worry or to call, you don’t need to concern. If you are for some reason curious as to a me, just check the Attic in the dust and musk and piled things in newly uncovered cardboard boxes, piled things of still breathing thoughts in an upstairs this is where I’ll be.

He listened, he’d noticed. Shit, I didn’t think anyone would actually listen to my entreats.

What a wonderful discovery … that someone would actually check in with me via the Attic, that they would notice my recent ebb.

It was a good phone call, there are still cats, there are always cats and stories of dogs now in his case, and there are better wives and growing feet and Happy Meals and growing minds and new baseball fascinations (no, I won’t be a dick as to my current opinion of the game in the new rules era) and there are lives to catch up on even in small talk windows.

In studios instead of cars? No matter.

Just a blip JJ. Just an ebb. Still breathing my friend.

Home: somewhere between 6p and 9p

Home: talk to Sister and possibly a nephew or two

Sit: somewhere start between 7p and 10p

Sit: till cows come home

Sit: write stuff while waiting on cows

Sit: wonder what the hell time it is and check on the cows

Sit:be thankful of some quiet and that no one makes phone calls on Fridays anymore

Sit: depend on mind

Stand: pee, quite a few times or just think you have to. Understand that you are old and it’s just what old does (sprinkle this pee idea in, sprinkle unintended, at numerous other break points during narrative)

Sit: work on something you thought was the greatest idea since the wheel, sliced cheese and the toaster oven this morning

Sit: realize you ain’t got shit

Sit: Don’t look at the news, at least not now, another time with furious intent, you know you’re good at furious, but not at this second’s moment

Sit: re-read some of your things

Sit: Where the hell are the cows?

Troll: step up from under the stairs and announce yourself on the way to a sister who will still be alarmed anyway

Troll: give Rikki, who has your number, knows your footfalls, just at the top, around the step bend, the waddling jiggle jelly belly furry bowling ball with a head some pieces of hard food as a treat and a thank you of her attention

Troll: give Razzy, the sweetest of old girls some treats as well and for the same reason

Sit: realize you still ain’t got shit

Sit: detail your weekend itinerary

Remember: one post that told you you still have inklings of being alive. Re-post it00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 … have a cat foot, feets, foots mock you with zeroes

Sit: Laugh at the concept of sleep

Sit: look for cows and hope it’s not too late into a Sunday just yet to call them home

Lay: grab an elusive Z … or two but don’t get ahead of yourself on stringing some more of them together

Forward: repeat next weekend

Now: be good

Now: know cows do come home

//////////////////////////////////////////

(from up top … Remember: one post that told you you still have inklings of being alive. Re-post it)

(originally posted Oct 15, 2023)

I noticed

I got a bit melancholy tonight as I thought of younger days in my made excuse to hit the pharmacy on my way home for a third time in three days claiming old and having forgotten something the first two times around. The melancholy? The pretty Walgreens pharmacy girl. An unintentional intentional forgetting I guess.

I had been there twice in two days, for legitimate reason, the first to the refill of the relatively recent prescription I have of the smallest of pills that are now old man necessary in the largest of ways to keep the blood pressure on keel and then the second, the next day (after I had forgotten to get it all done in one) to a refill of the other pills that I am life tied to now after having discovered an adrenal deficiency that landed me in some hospital shuffling nine days sock footed sliding slippers shift slide dance with nurses and visiting doctors and pudding (or Jell-O) seven years ago.

But the melancholy came from this third day where I told myself I had to, with ulterior motive, go back and grab some Pepto that I had forgotten to pick up on either day to try and hold off the eventual nights where my heartburn or something of the sort keeps sleep at bay and has become quite a bother. I also thought to maybe pick up anything else for appearances sake in case my obviousness of a single item was noticed, paper towels would work I said to myself, yeah, maybe even some TP and Tums and …

I stepped up to the pharmacy counter, sorta fake purchase in hand, hoping to finally have a sec after the first two trips netted only her coworker and his remarkable beard and perfect quaff of hair above it.

She (a day three reason) immediately recognized and checked the alphabet drawer boxes under “F” for a bag around all the others in an overstuffed pharmacy library (so many people, so many ailments) without me asking.

She gave me a “???” look.

“Ok, sorry, nothing to check for me there right now, I’m all medicined reminded old dude good” I said “I just thought I could pretend that I am checking on prescriptions so I could ring my things up here instead of that line up front that is about a dozen people long, including at least two older women maybe getting ready to pay with a check.”

“Sure, only for you” she said with a laugh and a fetching smile.

I suddenly found myself being young again and talking to a pretty girl and remembering when I would have done such or do such now, usually pretty awkwardly after a maybe initial burst of confidence.

I let her know that her new dark color wave of whispy long flowing shoulder falling hair was a great look and sans glasses too, working even better simply for the change of it, which it did, does.

“You noticed?”

Any guy who has missed this is an idiot.

“Well yeah, of course” I said “been meaning to point it out (been dying to) but I just haven’t had chance to be at the counter with you to tell you so”

She smiled a million dollars.

Now, I have long ago given up such things, appealing to pretty girls like I were young again knowing that I have really nothing to offer now, I am broken, old, have suitcases of shit, history under my eyes, have very particular single habits, I have vices, I have broken myself almost intentionally after too many reasons to break, my breath is hard fought these days, I am out of shape, I am a single dude with two cats (formerly so many missed more) and whatever sad cliché that might imply my care of such worries put to the wayside for times to write of things just like this, but she smiled those million dollars and for just that one moment I was not my aged age any longer and I was reminded that she would have been just who I would have awkwardly tried to grab the attention of back when. The pretty girl who would have caught my eye and maybe a me hers if I were so lucky.

And that was it, though I will have to refill my stay alives in another month or maybe even go through paper towels and TP waaaay faster than any single guy should.

I got a bit melancholy tonight.

“You noticed?”

“Of course I did”

So many idiot guys.