Jack Daniel's, Friends from out of the past; One Unforeseen Conversation
I had gone out to meet a friend I haven’t seen in quite a while. It was to be one quick meet-up with pleasantries and then we’d be done. What I didn’t expect was bumping in to someone from a distant past. So well, despite all the near misses I found myself face to face with Jack. Daniel’s to be exact.
After one shot too many this friend of mine suddenly decides it’s not to be a happy reunion and starts dumping his repressed sh*t on me. At first I was like “Get blogpage and rant there man.” Then I thought, well maybe my buddy didn’t have that luxury, and there was no one to turn to.
So my friend starts his diatribe about how unbelievably screwed up his life is. The family business is in shambles, and he’s dead broke. His family hates him of course, and he lost his kids. Rather, lost their love. The dinner table is hurt unimaginable. The family does not pull any punches in reminding him that this is not their life as mandated by the Lord Almighty.
His wife gave him the runaround. Ran off with a wealthier and better-looking man. When it didn’t work out, she came back to him. Since, all of it was his fault anyway, he took her back. The kids believe that she ran off because he was a womanizing bastard who squandered their wealth and that’s the reason their mother went and blasted their family to kingdom come. Now she’s back from the dead and halleluiah, they’re happy again!
In defense of this friend of mine, I know that he never spends anything that his spouse does not know about. He’s old school. Gives everything to the wife, and gets a metered allowance good for a week. He could not have done it. I think she still abuses him and he allows it because at the root of it all, he believes in his heart that none of this would have happened if he had been the man he should be. All of it is his fault. Whatever anyone says, at the heart of it, he has that as a truth.
Why? There is one thing to complete the puzzle. He met his soulmate. Or whom he believes is his. I chuckled at that. What kind of whacko believes in that mumbo-jumbo anyway? As I listened to him, I almost did accept it. As gospel truth. The way he described her, the way he felt for her, is something that I dream about as a writer. He turned from a despondent hopeless man, into an inspired hopeful poet in the blink of an eye. You almost thought of the woman as a goddess by the way he talked about her. Then came the ensuing crash. Yes he’s married. The vow holds him fast even when the time comes that the love may have died. She’s about to be married herself. He’s a wreck of a man. A ghost of what he was before. If ever they did find a way, he would just be a burden to her. He loves her too much to even want to go near. For fear of poisoning her life the way he had his.
Therein lies the crux of it all. It’s his fault. Why would life do all of that if not for atonement of some dreadful sin he might have done? He asks me. “Do you know how it feels to want to continue to be hurt this way? So I could forget about the one that is about to consume me?” I shake my head and he plunges on. “You may think I’m crazy. But I am not. Not yet anyway. I might though. If I allow myself to dwell on it. On the pain of having her so near yet so far. Of reaching out in bed and wanting to find her there and knowing that she won’t be there. Of waking up to each damned day of the rest of my life hoping to see her smile. Of wishing I could hear her laugh today? She taps me on the shoulder and my whole world spins. Of trying to get over it so I can live with at least a semblance of peace? Because she can’t love me and she won’t love me, and if ever I would not even allow her to!” So he needs the pain too. If only to forget that the life he leads has and from then on will always be a lie. My heart goes out to him but well, it’s his issue to resolve.
The are two statements he left me with that gave me a leaden feeling in the pit of my soul:
He said, “I am resigned. To receiving intimacy and warmth in the embrace of whores; once I can afford them. There is no harbor for me in this lifetime.” There is death in his eyes I didn’t notice earlier. The wide expanse of emptiness only sadness brings. I should know. It’s been part and parcel of my life too.
He said, “A home is a dream. A dream. Yes you can have all the houses that you want. It’s all a matter of how much money you have anyway. A home is an entirely different case.” He says he’s found it. But he’s always going to be outside the window peering in on the party going on inside. You know what? I think he’s correct. I drove home with the stereo off and in complete silence. I hope he finds his way. Maybe forget everyone as well. For his eternal soul’s own good.
After one shot too many this friend of mine suddenly decides it’s not to be a happy reunion and starts dumping his repressed sh*t on me. At first I was like “Get blogpage and rant there man.” Then I thought, well maybe my buddy didn’t have that luxury, and there was no one to turn to.
So my friend starts his diatribe about how unbelievably screwed up his life is. The family business is in shambles, and he’s dead broke. His family hates him of course, and he lost his kids. Rather, lost their love. The dinner table is hurt unimaginable. The family does not pull any punches in reminding him that this is not their life as mandated by the Lord Almighty.
His wife gave him the runaround. Ran off with a wealthier and better-looking man. When it didn’t work out, she came back to him. Since, all of it was his fault anyway, he took her back. The kids believe that she ran off because he was a womanizing bastard who squandered their wealth and that’s the reason their mother went and blasted their family to kingdom come. Now she’s back from the dead and halleluiah, they’re happy again!
In defense of this friend of mine, I know that he never spends anything that his spouse does not know about. He’s old school. Gives everything to the wife, and gets a metered allowance good for a week. He could not have done it. I think she still abuses him and he allows it because at the root of it all, he believes in his heart that none of this would have happened if he had been the man he should be. All of it is his fault. Whatever anyone says, at the heart of it, he has that as a truth.
Why? There is one thing to complete the puzzle. He met his soulmate. Or whom he believes is his. I chuckled at that. What kind of whacko believes in that mumbo-jumbo anyway? As I listened to him, I almost did accept it. As gospel truth. The way he described her, the way he felt for her, is something that I dream about as a writer. He turned from a despondent hopeless man, into an inspired hopeful poet in the blink of an eye. You almost thought of the woman as a goddess by the way he talked about her. Then came the ensuing crash. Yes he’s married. The vow holds him fast even when the time comes that the love may have died. She’s about to be married herself. He’s a wreck of a man. A ghost of what he was before. If ever they did find a way, he would just be a burden to her. He loves her too much to even want to go near. For fear of poisoning her life the way he had his.
Therein lies the crux of it all. It’s his fault. Why would life do all of that if not for atonement of some dreadful sin he might have done? He asks me. “Do you know how it feels to want to continue to be hurt this way? So I could forget about the one that is about to consume me?” I shake my head and he plunges on. “You may think I’m crazy. But I am not. Not yet anyway. I might though. If I allow myself to dwell on it. On the pain of having her so near yet so far. Of reaching out in bed and wanting to find her there and knowing that she won’t be there. Of waking up to each damned day of the rest of my life hoping to see her smile. Of wishing I could hear her laugh today? She taps me on the shoulder and my whole world spins. Of trying to get over it so I can live with at least a semblance of peace? Because she can’t love me and she won’t love me, and if ever I would not even allow her to!” So he needs the pain too. If only to forget that the life he leads has and from then on will always be a lie. My heart goes out to him but well, it’s his issue to resolve.
The are two statements he left me with that gave me a leaden feeling in the pit of my soul:
He said, “I am resigned. To receiving intimacy and warmth in the embrace of whores; once I can afford them. There is no harbor for me in this lifetime.” There is death in his eyes I didn’t notice earlier. The wide expanse of emptiness only sadness brings. I should know. It’s been part and parcel of my life too.
He said, “A home is a dream. A dream. Yes you can have all the houses that you want. It’s all a matter of how much money you have anyway. A home is an entirely different case.” He says he’s found it. But he’s always going to be outside the window peering in on the party going on inside. You know what? I think he’s correct. I drove home with the stereo off and in complete silence. I hope he finds his way. Maybe forget everyone as well. For his eternal soul’s own good.
posted by Michael Martin at 11:28 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home