Back To Bed
Sunday evening. The weather has been warm enough to require a fan, which is now blowing across my body as I sit in front of the computer, the time eight in the evening, the balcony doors open, the street outside dark. I've started in on the sake and I'm sitting here wondering what life might be like if I kept a schedule every day similar to the one I keep on the weekends: sipping sake, listening to XM radio (Channel 40: the old farts rock and roll station), the computer tuned into whatever, the iPod updating as an iPod will update, the universe out there doing whatever a universe does, self and I buzzing with medicines and sake, thinking, well, this buzz won't last forever just as I won't last forever, but it feels just fine for the time, thank you very much.
Does this condition call out to the generation now emerging from high school and college? What is life but a fight? Why not drink sake, smoke medicines and, well, let life slide by online: life a communication through the aether, life a stream of bits on a wire? Well I'm not sure that wouldn't be swell, except for the rent. One must, I'm afraid, make the rent. One must cover lunch. There are other considerations on the list (raising the kids comes to mind), but you get the idea.
Not what I would have wanted when I was younger, I think, but something that seems to appeal as I grow older, the rent theoretically taken care of for the near term, at least; this aching head and sinus thing in some ways very much like being stoned with a kind of a toothache, the application of sake ameliorating the effect, allowing the day to slide into night, the mornings a leisurely awakening to coffee and the paper if you don't have to get your ass up and out of bed to go to work.
Monday. Well, thoughts on a Sunday lead to a Monday now, do they not? The medicos have switched me to a new brand of blood pressure medicine and it's finally kicked in, one of the side effects being various levels of dizziness when you stand up. As good an excuse as any to come home early. Evening now, the head better, the blood pressure down where it's supposed to be and I, for all my writing about sitting here drinking sake, am sitting here with Ms. Emmy on my lap two sheets to the wind. (What in the fuck is all this shit about sake? What's wrong with beer? With wine? With a workout at the local gym, a bottle of mineral water and a light salad of E. coli riddled greens?)
No one's going to read this kind of stuff, you know.
I'm going to read this kind of stuff, pops, go back to bed.