Lately, like the characters at the beginnings of many trendy novels these days, I havent been able to sleep. I usually feel myself getting tired around midnight or so, but upon lying down I would realize that the sleepiness was temporary. Sidney usually goes to bed at the same time I do, but she drifts off to sleep within fifteen minutes on most nights, more or less facing the wall, away from me. I pull my laptop out, telling myself that Ill watch some streaming television show, a luxury I have missed out on since the downsizing of our cable package, but I always end up just farting around on internet message boards. Well, actually, thats sort of a lie. I spend an equal amount of time on forums as I do e-window-shopping for bicycles and all things to do with them.
Man, I wish I could just sit around and watch television shows. Ever since Mark moved out, we havent had a TV connection in the house. He liked to watch soccer or rugby or whatever the fuck sports that only played on channels included in the most expensive cable packages. Once he moved out, though, we took a quick house vote and decided to save that extra fifty bucks a month and just cut the cable. There was a fiasco with returning the receiver boxes, since they claimed that we had two so we tore the house apart but could only find one. A quick and painless $175 fine later and we were rid of that vile disease that infects so many American households. Well, when I say that he moved out, I really mean that we kind of pushed him out. We didnt really kick him out, though. We gingerly sort of nudged him with the toe of our boots until he realized that he was on the doorstep with all of his belongings in neatly labeled cardboard boxes. Some of them even had that nifty pre-labeled tape that you can get at the U-Haul store holding them shut. The red ones that said LIVINGROOM, the blue ones that said KITCHEN, and the green ones that said KNICK-KNACKS. They were all stacked neatly in the driveway, metaphorically speaking, when he finally pulled the roommate equivalent of a you-cant-fire-me-because-I-quit. We slept well that night, and found a replacement in the form of the woman who had been sleeping on our couch for the previous two weeks anyway.
Wait. Where was I?
Oh, yes. Television.
The lack of a television gives a household a sort of sophisticated air about it. A lack of an idiot-box-centered living room makes guests think, oh, the tenants dont need mindless entertainment. They can converse amongst themselves and keep busy without the help of 30-minute adventures in fantasyland.
Well, we still have a television; it just isnt hooked up to anything, so we get none of the benefits involved. Visitors think of us as being like everyone else, but then realize that we are not enlightened; were just too poor. Then it becomes an awkward pity thing, I almost feel as if I have to apologize to them. Its weird. I dont actually miss the television service or channel surfing itself; its more about the shows. The ones that I like watching arent on at any reasonable hour, so it would be great if I could just watch them whenever I want, for instance, like when I am perusing the interne-OHMYGOD. They totally do that. All the good websites were taken down months ago, though, so I have to peruse a cavalcade of bullshit hosts with the most agonizing load times for these shows that I only halfheartedly wanted to watch in the first place. Im not going to idly wait fifteen minutes for a half-hour episode of ALF to load.
Thats where the message boards come in.
The only real pleasure I get from visiting them at this time of the night is knowing that somewhere in the world, there are other people as incapable of sleeping as I am. These are people chit-chatting about which Olsen twin theyd like to bone (Mary-Kate, obviously), which is the best type of knife to bring to Alaska (given that one is to be in the wilderness and possibly encountering bears for three weeks), and issuing polls as to how often, if at all, people shave or trim their pubic hair. These are all things that these people think about, and they just barf them right onto the screen for everyone else to experience. When Im not fishing for the cranial equivalent to Tourettes, Im sifting through eBay or other similar websites looking for killer deals on bicycle parts. Its a sickness, I know, but I really like picturing myself astride some obscenely priced special-edition Langster, or pumping away atop the newest saddle from Selle San Marco Island. God, isnt the modern era wonderful?
But enough about that.
I cant sleep. After about an hour or two of trolling online forums for mental diarrhea, I decide that Ive had enough and put the computer away with every intention of falling asleep. I roll over to face Sidneys back and throw a limp arm around her. I would just dig in there and really hold her, like, really hold her, where my chest is right against her back and her buttcheeks fit right into the recesses of my crotch and the bottoms of her feet are planted on the tops of mine, but she is usually too hot. Warm, actually. Well, yes, she is incredibly sexy and attractive, but I mean to say that she is of a high temperature. Her body just emits heat like the dickens when she sleeps, and I cant handle more than a few minutes of it, especially under the covers. With the limp-arm strategy, I can keep a healthy and comfortable distance away while still showing some affection. Maybe its a summer thing. I dont know. Im hoping that once the weather cools down well be able to sleep like a couple madly in love without having to worry about waking up covered in sticky sweat.
After a couple of minutes of just listening to the fan blow, my mind begins to wander. I start to think about all sorts of things, mostly about the position that my life is in at the moment, which is really interesting. If I were to imagine what I was going to be up to right now even a year ago, I doubt it would be this. I would probably say something fairly accurate as to what I would physically be doing, but my mental and emotional state and growth lately has been unprecedented. None of that is important right now, though. I dont even know why I said it. I tend to ramble on a lot, mostly in my head, but sometimes (okay, most of the time) verbally. I always get sidetracked on these little tangents. I guess Im afraid that, no matter what yarn Im telling, I want the audience to have the complete story or else they wont get the full impact. I also have a nasty habit of reiterating my point, even after everyone in the room is aware and agrees with me. It could be due to my horrible lack of the ability to read people. I always think that they are disagreeing with me until the moment they scream, ALRIGHT, DUDE. I GET IT. But again, none of this is important. What is is that my thoughts tend to gravitate in a similar direction: things, having those things, accomplishing goals with those things, be they social, selfish, or monetary, and how they effect myself or other people. After all that, though, my brain drives me in a really unsettling direction.
When I cant sleep, I start to think about dying.
I cant help it, really. I think about getting old someday and just ceasing to be. I try to imagine what that would feel like. Its not easy, and understandably so. I dont think our brains were wired to comprehend what nonexistence feels like. My lungs and arms and teeth and penis will all become dirt or ashes, depending on what people do with my body. I dont really have a say in it, either, since I have no control over what people do with me once Im gone.
Once Im gone. What a fucking bizarre concept.
Pondering death is something people have done since the dawn of free thought. Hamlet did it. Socrates did it. Jesus did it. It can be a great thing, really. It has been the ammunition for great things. I can totally see a situation, like sky diving, for instance, where one begins to think about how fragile and short life really is and also how we need to grab it by the nuts and give it a little squeeze as we stare it in the face and jump out of the airplane because this may be our last day alive and GODDAMMIT WE ARE NOT GOING TO BURN OUT. I imagined Bill Pullman saying that, for some reason, like in that scene from Independence Day.
Drifting off to sleep, however, is the worst time to think about something like this.
Now what the heck am I supposed to do?
Man, I wish I could just sit around and watch television shows. Ever since Mark moved out, we havent had a TV connection in the house. He liked to watch soccer or rugby or whatever the fuck sports that only played on channels included in the most expensive cable packages. Once he moved out, though, we took a quick house vote and decided to save that extra fifty bucks a month and just cut the cable. There was a fiasco with returning the receiver boxes, since they claimed that we had two so we tore the house apart but could only find one. A quick and painless $175 fine later and we were rid of that vile disease that infects so many American households. Well, when I say that he moved out, I really mean that we kind of pushed him out. We didnt really kick him out, though. We gingerly sort of nudged him with the toe of our boots until he realized that he was on the doorstep with all of his belongings in neatly labeled cardboard boxes. Some of them even had that nifty pre-labeled tape that you can get at the U-Haul store holding them shut. The red ones that said LIVINGROOM, the blue ones that said KITCHEN, and the green ones that said KNICK-KNACKS. They were all stacked neatly in the driveway, metaphorically speaking, when he finally pulled the roommate equivalent of a you-cant-fire-me-because-I-quit. We slept well that night, and found a replacement in the form of the woman who had been sleeping on our couch for the previous two weeks anyway.
Wait. Where was I?
Oh, yes. Television.
The lack of a television gives a household a sort of sophisticated air about it. A lack of an idiot-box-centered living room makes guests think, oh, the tenants dont need mindless entertainment. They can converse amongst themselves and keep busy without the help of 30-minute adventures in fantasyland.
Well, we still have a television; it just isnt hooked up to anything, so we get none of the benefits involved. Visitors think of us as being like everyone else, but then realize that we are not enlightened; were just too poor. Then it becomes an awkward pity thing, I almost feel as if I have to apologize to them. Its weird. I dont actually miss the television service or channel surfing itself; its more about the shows. The ones that I like watching arent on at any reasonable hour, so it would be great if I could just watch them whenever I want, for instance, like when I am perusing the interne-OHMYGOD. They totally do that. All the good websites were taken down months ago, though, so I have to peruse a cavalcade of bullshit hosts with the most agonizing load times for these shows that I only halfheartedly wanted to watch in the first place. Im not going to idly wait fifteen minutes for a half-hour episode of ALF to load.
Thats where the message boards come in.
The only real pleasure I get from visiting them at this time of the night is knowing that somewhere in the world, there are other people as incapable of sleeping as I am. These are people chit-chatting about which Olsen twin theyd like to bone (Mary-Kate, obviously), which is the best type of knife to bring to Alaska (given that one is to be in the wilderness and possibly encountering bears for three weeks), and issuing polls as to how often, if at all, people shave or trim their pubic hair. These are all things that these people think about, and they just barf them right onto the screen for everyone else to experience. When Im not fishing for the cranial equivalent to Tourettes, Im sifting through eBay or other similar websites looking for killer deals on bicycle parts. Its a sickness, I know, but I really like picturing myself astride some obscenely priced special-edition Langster, or pumping away atop the newest saddle from Selle San Marco Island. God, isnt the modern era wonderful?
But enough about that.
I cant sleep. After about an hour or two of trolling online forums for mental diarrhea, I decide that Ive had enough and put the computer away with every intention of falling asleep. I roll over to face Sidneys back and throw a limp arm around her. I would just dig in there and really hold her, like, really hold her, where my chest is right against her back and her buttcheeks fit right into the recesses of my crotch and the bottoms of her feet are planted on the tops of mine, but she is usually too hot. Warm, actually. Well, yes, she is incredibly sexy and attractive, but I mean to say that she is of a high temperature. Her body just emits heat like the dickens when she sleeps, and I cant handle more than a few minutes of it, especially under the covers. With the limp-arm strategy, I can keep a healthy and comfortable distance away while still showing some affection. Maybe its a summer thing. I dont know. Im hoping that once the weather cools down well be able to sleep like a couple madly in love without having to worry about waking up covered in sticky sweat.
After a couple of minutes of just listening to the fan blow, my mind begins to wander. I start to think about all sorts of things, mostly about the position that my life is in at the moment, which is really interesting. If I were to imagine what I was going to be up to right now even a year ago, I doubt it would be this. I would probably say something fairly accurate as to what I would physically be doing, but my mental and emotional state and growth lately has been unprecedented. None of that is important right now, though. I dont even know why I said it. I tend to ramble on a lot, mostly in my head, but sometimes (okay, most of the time) verbally. I always get sidetracked on these little tangents. I guess Im afraid that, no matter what yarn Im telling, I want the audience to have the complete story or else they wont get the full impact. I also have a nasty habit of reiterating my point, even after everyone in the room is aware and agrees with me. It could be due to my horrible lack of the ability to read people. I always think that they are disagreeing with me until the moment they scream, ALRIGHT, DUDE. I GET IT. But again, none of this is important. What is is that my thoughts tend to gravitate in a similar direction: things, having those things, accomplishing goals with those things, be they social, selfish, or monetary, and how they effect myself or other people. After all that, though, my brain drives me in a really unsettling direction.
When I cant sleep, I start to think about dying.
I cant help it, really. I think about getting old someday and just ceasing to be. I try to imagine what that would feel like. Its not easy, and understandably so. I dont think our brains were wired to comprehend what nonexistence feels like. My lungs and arms and teeth and penis will all become dirt or ashes, depending on what people do with my body. I dont really have a say in it, either, since I have no control over what people do with me once Im gone.
Once Im gone. What a fucking bizarre concept.
Pondering death is something people have done since the dawn of free thought. Hamlet did it. Socrates did it. Jesus did it. It can be a great thing, really. It has been the ammunition for great things. I can totally see a situation, like sky diving, for instance, where one begins to think about how fragile and short life really is and also how we need to grab it by the nuts and give it a little squeeze as we stare it in the face and jump out of the airplane because this may be our last day alive and GODDAMMIT WE ARE NOT GOING TO BURN OUT. I imagined Bill Pullman saying that, for some reason, like in that scene from Independence Day.
Drifting off to sleep, however, is the worst time to think about something like this.
Now what the heck am I supposed to do?
I have no TV. Well, I have a TV. A nice flat screen. But it's been over 2 years since I've had any type of cable. I've been stealing it with dreaded bunny ears and watching the history channel in blurs and dots. It might help that we don't have too many friends who come over too much, but even if they had something to say about it I'd tell them to suck my right ass cheek. I'd rather pay my cell phone bill so I can keep in touch with my family in MA. Or buy new art supplies or books. TV isn't all it's cracked up to be. Not to mention if people come over its usually to drink and play games anywho.
It's not death itself that I find hardest to grasp. It's that when I am on my death bed am I going to be completely happy with the life I lead. Did I cause enough trouble, did I learn everything I possibly could. Was I well rounded and did I have an abundance of great friends and memories full of laughs. Every day that goes by that I just stand at my job and greet people "are you here for the 6 cent prints?" and then go home to eat and sleep and Hello Groundhog Day! It scares the everliving bejesus out of me! And when I'm on my death bed I will NOT be thinking about how funny those Will and Grace episodes were and how much I hated the finale.
But really. That testimony is the best one I've got