Did some Xmas shopping the other day. The people watching proved more humorous than anything else. I don’t expect much in the way of gifts and therefore don’t buy a ton of gifts. It sounds clichéd, but I don’t need a holiday to buy something for my friends and family. Be it a book, a beer, a lapdance, or cab fare at the close of a bender, I pay my material fee for friendship and familial relationships in spades.
"I dream I'm floating on the surface of my own life, watching it unfold."
I look down and see her head in my lap. She sleeps quietly. I feel a flicker of emotion, what some might call attachment. It is not deep seated, yet it is tangible in that emotionally palpable sense. This is a good thing, I suppose.
I catch myself thinking back to her and wondering how she’s doing. It is late. I cannot sleep. This comes as no surprise. I go through phases where sleep proves difficult if not belabored. Part of my anesthetizing with booze was likely an avoidance of the late night questions and ponderings. I’ve done well as of late, having a few beers with dinner then on the couch watching mindless TV….still anesthetizing but doing so in cheaper fashion…in less risky fashion. Saving money and avoiding time spent in the cold or sleeping in my car. This current trend of sleeping in a bed is more comfortable if not less satisfying in some manner. Yet, part of me knows that when I awaken in the backseat of my car, I feel and know that I am where I ought to be. Home is where the heart is, but what for those without a heart?
Home is where I lay my head. I’ve long felt this way. I keep my life as unfettered as possible, both in reliance upon things but chiefly in reliance upon people. I like knowing I can pack a bag in 10 min’s or so and relocate as necessary. I like knowing that when an overseas job is landed, there is virtually nothing tying me here. I like the freedom….the choice….the possibility….the potential….the fucking unknown. I fear boredom, stability, predictability.
I fear the things which are the fabric of our society.
I fear the quiet night spent alone with thoughts dwelling on expectations.
I wonder if one day when I have reached my sell by date, I will find myself under a sky in a different hemisphere than my birth….a likely young, dark-haired, curvaceous girl asleep by my side, company possibly paid for directly or indirectly……or will I cave to expectation and normalcy and find myself alone in my home office, sipping liquor and placing a premium on fleeting moments of freedom?
What does the future hold? For now, I can bank and depend on the inability to know.
That lone hope (if you can call it that) lets me sleep perchance to dream.
I think back to her place. The familiarity. The warmth. The awkwardness. Her beautiful face. The feel of her skin. The inevitability of the end. The inevitability of the beginning. The inevitability of it all. We've spoken intermittently. The last clinging to a vestige of what was, was representing past tense in the truest form possible. What was can never be again. The moment and its singular existence in that form gone like sand in the hourglass and all that shit.
I am left with the same urge. The same urging to avoid. The same seeking to bask in the warmth of escape that proves fleeting and unfulfilling. How many more times can I begin this process of a relationship and expect or avoid the knowledge that it will end in the same fashion? Perhaps that is what denotes life? The same attempts in various arenas.....as though at some point we'll go through enough trainwrecks to somehow avoid riding trains.....
-With Greatest Affection