oh f*ck! and interrupted weekends

i was browsing through blogpages today. i was cooped up in the boondocks again, having had my joyful rural/suburban (where does that mix? ask me, i might be nice enough to tell you the secret) drinking session unceremoniously cut off by morality and family values (this is the first oh f*ck). so what gives right? well i guess i am that kind of guy, too torn to function normally as a profligate wanton male, and too unlucky to break even at certain intervals in life (this is an eternal oh f*ck).

so what do you do? drive breakneck at 120 km/h and get your hormone levels to crash. a cold shower might be nice too. or a woman to talk to. maybe hold. well there isn't an option if you're like me (another oh f*ck). and what the f*ck am i writing about here, i'm supposed to be married and contented (prolly the biggest oh f*ck). the people who know me know about the questions i ask, and the alleys i either peer or go headlong into and i guess they understand (it's their oh sweet f*ck there goes mike again). maybe i ask to many questions and wont live life the way it's handed down. maybe that's the root of all this trouble.

i always get my answers to feed my mind.

i never do get, an answer that makes me smile. i end up more ground up than when i came in.

so here i was browsing through blogpages and happened to pore over this one, argh! i think i was the one mentioned in the conversation. or rather i was the one she was conversing with. wanted to help me out? sold her soul? errr....i know i had read it ages ago, but it does leap out right now in a way that it never did before. i guess it was more sh*tty than i ever imagined.

and hey. forgive me for dreaming. i didn't mean to push. which is the crux of all, the nexus of everything around me. if there is a recurrent theme in my life it would be "never meant to be".

that's for everyone. including the WWoftheS. although she's fighting hard to be here.

On Boredom And A Consistent Lack of Funds

This is precisely what happens when the statement above holds true for a prolonged basis. As one of my buds would quip, “at least it’s consistent”. So what do you do when you have nothing to do and no cash to burn? Go crazy baby. Or go get yourself strapped on a hospital bed in an institution basement with a thorazine drip on your wrist. Pretty nifty eh?

I chose the go crazy route, as I still have souls who depend on my sanity to get through the day. Yeah I know I’m ugly but this is for my benefit and not yours. Besides haven’t you grown tired of all the good-looking folks who flood the tarps in EDSA, who fill up the covers of magazines and dominate the boob tube? Now come to think of it, since everyone’s gone flat screen, does the term need to apply? How would you like your woman mate? Oi! I was asking you!!!

I went around and around on my final three liters and took a damned long walk. Which is beneficial considering my faulty ticker. Wore shades that exaggerated my flat nose and hid my eyes, which according to people who have no financial stake with me are the only decent part of my person. Someone told me that happiness is a state. I consulted the map and couldn’t find it. Anyway what’s to lose? I tried smiling under the cover of my glasses and true enough I was fooling myself into feeling better by the time the hour ended.

Quite content now. Why? I told someone to go f*ck off and slide his you know what in his you know where. So much for positive thoughts eh.

Six Packs, Marlboros, Credit Lines and Laptops

It’s evening of the same day. The wire transfer didn’t arrive as scheduled and I’m pleasantly stuck in the boondocks. Good thing I have a running credit line at the local grocer. Got myself an ice-cold six-pack of San Miguel Lights, a pack of Marlboros and a fully charged iBook. Isn’t life grand? Yeah I know, bad for me, but considering everything that’s going on now, it may just be a good idea. See I haven’t been pounding on the keys that much since I moved to a new post on my daily grind and I miss it badly. It was nasty trying to make time.

So I’m finally grounded with nothing to do, and as far as I know everyone who I love has something better to do with their time than to spend it with the king of melancholy. It’s been a long time since I’ve been really alone, and it’s twisted. See there are a lot of people around me, but no one’s paid attention to be honest. I just go on my way since no one cares as long as I deliver the goods. Mr. A-ok family man and all that rot. The recent two years have been an absolute whack job for me, filled with short rises and very long troughs. Been in and out of emergency rooms with a steadily declining health. To be brutally frank I do not expect to live past forty. But I still believe I have enough time, with the Creator willing, to set everything in order for those I love. It’s scary and exhilarating at the same time, this race against time. Well we know it from childhood, when death first visits our family’s doorsteps. We put it on the back burner till we get a missed call from the ever-pleasant reaper.

So that’s that and maybe nothing more, if I die as boring as I lived. Wait, I may still have time enough to complete my book. I’d like to be printed posthumously though, to spare myself the shrink freak psycho-babble analysis of anyone of anyone who’d care to read and criticize the work. I think I’ll cut it here and stick to the beers. They’re a fine companion during these times.

A Different Kind Of Heaven

The air conditioning system is quiet for its age, and the only light in the room comes from the television bolted to the wall. The channel it’s on has long since signed off, and the crackle of static is all but left. There’s an empty beer bottle, an ice bucket, a small ashtray with a couple of butts, and an empty glass sitting on a silver tray beside the bed. Surreal. Very.

My back is killing me as it usually does nowadays, and I’m too damned poor and chickensh*t to seek treatment. There are days that I find it unbearable to sit or walk, but that’s just part of the chocolate chute screw we get for being people. The pressure of her leg as it drapes over my back is welcome pain, and a smile dawns on my tired face. How long has it been? Almost four years to this day I reckon. I still tear myself up thousand different ways when she’s near me. Now she’s here, finally. After all this time, she’s here. She went to where I was, without knowing the way. She found me, in her unerring sense of the true north. She tosses again, complaining about her inability to go back to sleep after I disturbed her slumber a few minutes ago. I have all these queries and probably no tomorrow. Of course I’d bother her.

“Let’s take it one day at a time. I am here, will be here, only because I want to.” She said that in the most offhand and confident of manners that I choked despite myself. True, it’s her choice to make, and I am but a fortunate spectator in the events unfolding before me. Makes me wonder where this will lead. I’m scared out of my wits, but can’t and won’t tear my eyes off. I’m way out of my league and sinking fast. Happily drowning just to be perfectly clear. With my bad heart to boot, I know I’m treading on eggshells.

“If you want me, then you have me. I say when it stops. After all, I’m the one with everything to lose.” She threw that out casually too. Made me shudder at the strength of character of a woman who says that to your face. I, in my usual stupidity as a human male, thought the statement to be purely physical in nature. The fact that we’re still clothed dispels that. I’m such a dumb*ss. She is here though, no mistake about it. That we’re snuggling, is more than I had ever dreamed of. I was running my fingers through her hair moments earlier, breathing her intoxicating scent. This is way better than what my Neolithic self had predicted earlier.

If you ask me if I knew her reasons, or maybe had inkling as to her intentions, I think I’d shrug and scratch my head. That’s why I’m committing these thoughts to words, in the hope of finding a rhyme or reason. It’s been elusive so far. I gave up the ghost already, accepted that I was beating a dead horse, and that it’s what my friend told me a couple of years ago. She was to be my “ungettable get” as she so succinctly pointed out. To find myself with her in these early morning hours that I hold dear is well, confusing to put it lightly. Maybe the earth has fallen off its axis sometime during the month.

I have Billy Corgan steadily droning as I type this, his melancholy and anguish a perfect companion in this forced separation. I try and ram my head against a wall and feel blinding pain. Stars flutter in the expanse of darkness and I’m sure I’m awake. Is this what the person who coined the term “intertwined souls” meant? So this is a different kind of heaven. Fate help me, I know I will never be able to let it go.