I wish I could write about EVERYTHING here, and not just 75% of my life. I have an epic rant chambered, but only Toney is being subjected to it. It’s frustrating. Perhaps I should fire up the old Bill Oates blog again? I might be able to remember the passwords…
No, that’s not going to happen. I can’t even keep up with one website. I’ll just let it fester in my gut, until it destroys a vital organ and my life flickers out.
I’m feeling an urge to buy a thirty-pound block of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and just watch every episode of Louie, one after the other. But, going on a three-day trip to oblivion isn’t going to help anything. I’ve been trapped in that cycle before.
In any case… I think this is the worst summer of my life. It’s hot and humid every day, everything is in chaos, and I feel like my world is getting tinier and tinier. In fact, at this point it’s collapsed in on itself, and turned into a black star, or whatever.
A few minutes ago I told Toney: “This is the worst summer since the car wreck, when I spent six months in a body cast and had to pee down a length of tubing.”
“That never happened,” she said.
“Oh, that’s right. Well, this one just moved to the top of the list, then!”
Earlier this week I was riding home from work, listening to George Noory, and he was interviewing someone who is an expert on Easter Island, and those freaky stone heads and whatnot. The guy was describing the island, and I was thinking how cool it would be to visit there.
And there was a time in my life when I believed that such a thing wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Ya know? Now? I just simmer about stupid-ass shit that doesn’t matter, and work a million hours for little return. And I’m not just talking about money… Our entire lives are conducted inside two or three buildings. And at a certain point you start to believe it’s all there is.
In fact, I interact with people on a daily basis who don’t know anything about life outside Lackawanna and Luzerne Counties, Pennsylvania. And… they don’t want to know. It’s beyond their reach, so why waste time thinking about it? In my darkest moments I feel like I’m becoming one of them.
We’re planning to go to New York City in a couple of weeks — all four of us. We’ve made such plans before, and something always comes along and screws them up. But we’re hell-bent on not allowing that to happen this time. We have to escape the black star for a day. Every one of us needs to be reminded there’s life beyond the Endless Mountains.
Holy hell! Maybe it’s best that I’m not able to run wide-open here? I haven’t whined this furiously in a long time. I feel like I’m a prime candidate to be swept up in an obscure religion, or get deeply involved in exposing government cover-ups, or go militantly gluten-free, or something. I feel like a 1935 German.
Anyway, I have daydreams about selling everything we own – a complete liquidation – and starting over in a different city. Have you ever made any gigantic life-changes, like that? Just finally having enough of something, and saying fukkit? I’m talking about the difficult things, like quitting a high-paying job ‘cause it’s sucking the life out of you, or moving far away to pursue a dream of some sort.
If so, please tell me about it. Something’s gotta give soon, and maybe your stories will inspire me. Use the comments link below.
And I’ll try to post something a little less… gothic over the weekend.
See ya then!