Thursday, April 02, 2009
Where I Am
Tonight's posting will be full of self-loathing.
The first thing that I want to state, the main thing that I want to put up in front of cyberspace and God, is that tonight my sister gave birth to her daughter prematurely. The baby is healthy, in theory, but under 6 pounds.
I want to state that separately because any of the circumstances or facts that follow this should be recognized as being being secondary to the fact that above all other things in my life, I wish health and good luck for my sister and her baby. My own neurosis and drama are secondary in my heart and mind.
I got the news as I was leaving a local bar, where I'd been playing pool with two friends from work, one of whom is the lady friend who has been the subject of quite a few posts over the past year or so, but who is, ultimately, a platonic friend.
My mom called, but I missed the call. I called her back and she delivered the news about the premature birth. She'd been planning on flying over the ocean to see my sister in about a month, but changed her flight plans to this Saturday to reflect the changing situation.
Before I called my mother, before I knew the news, I'd decided that I'd bop on over to sushi joint that's near my apartment for some food and that One More Beer that would push me from buzzed to drunk. So I spoke to my mom in the parking lot of the sushi joint, as I paced around my car and kicked at the bumper. I held back the tears. I decided that I'd go ahead into the sushi place because hey, I was still hungry and that extra beer would sit well now. But I'd forgotten that this sushi place turns into a bit of a nightspot after 7 PM, and when I entered and went to the bar where I usually sat, the place was filled with 20 somethings and 30 somethings dressed nicely. The music was loud and the light was low and red, and I looked at the faces that turned to face me and all I saw was death, impersonal death.
In a 7 hour time difference from where I am, somewhere across the ocean, my little niece is in intensive care. And I, I walked into some random restaurant seeking comfort and saw only the blank faces of the dating scene.
And you know what? I spit on you. I spit on myself. I'd rather die alone than ever identify with your vacant faces. Fuck you all. Fuck your casual sex. Fuck the emptiness that you feel with matches the emptiness that I feel. Eat shit and die.
And then I went back to my car and called the friend mentioned above, and she just shrugged me off. I cried a bit in the parking lot, feeling a little scared and very alone.
This is my life. My niece is born premature and I have no one to talk to and nowhere to go.
God, I get the hint. I fucked up. This is my punishment for being antisocial and curmudgeonly and God, I want you to know that I accept your judgment, even though I don't accept you.
And then I got home and there was a text message from the friend I'd called, telling me that everything would be OK and that she was there for me. And as I read this, I suddenly remembered the boozy argument I'd made to her earlier in the night, giving her shit about her boyfriend, a man of whom I am obviously jealous.
And that's so me, you know? I give my friends shit, and I tear them down in my mind, never realizing the shit that I've given them, and yet they are there for me.
I spit on myself. I spit on myself. God, please let my niece be OK. God, please.
The first thing that I want to state, the main thing that I want to put up in front of cyberspace and God, is that tonight my sister gave birth to her daughter prematurely. The baby is healthy, in theory, but under 6 pounds.
I want to state that separately because any of the circumstances or facts that follow this should be recognized as being being secondary to the fact that above all other things in my life, I wish health and good luck for my sister and her baby. My own neurosis and drama are secondary in my heart and mind.
I got the news as I was leaving a local bar, where I'd been playing pool with two friends from work, one of whom is the lady friend who has been the subject of quite a few posts over the past year or so, but who is, ultimately, a platonic friend.
My mom called, but I missed the call. I called her back and she delivered the news about the premature birth. She'd been planning on flying over the ocean to see my sister in about a month, but changed her flight plans to this Saturday to reflect the changing situation.
Before I called my mother, before I knew the news, I'd decided that I'd bop on over to sushi joint that's near my apartment for some food and that One More Beer that would push me from buzzed to drunk. So I spoke to my mom in the parking lot of the sushi joint, as I paced around my car and kicked at the bumper. I held back the tears. I decided that I'd go ahead into the sushi place because hey, I was still hungry and that extra beer would sit well now. But I'd forgotten that this sushi place turns into a bit of a nightspot after 7 PM, and when I entered and went to the bar where I usually sat, the place was filled with 20 somethings and 30 somethings dressed nicely. The music was loud and the light was low and red, and I looked at the faces that turned to face me and all I saw was death, impersonal death.
In a 7 hour time difference from where I am, somewhere across the ocean, my little niece is in intensive care. And I, I walked into some random restaurant seeking comfort and saw only the blank faces of the dating scene.
And you know what? I spit on you. I spit on myself. I'd rather die alone than ever identify with your vacant faces. Fuck you all. Fuck your casual sex. Fuck the emptiness that you feel with matches the emptiness that I feel. Eat shit and die.
And then I went back to my car and called the friend mentioned above, and she just shrugged me off. I cried a bit in the parking lot, feeling a little scared and very alone.
This is my life. My niece is born premature and I have no one to talk to and nowhere to go.
God, I get the hint. I fucked up. This is my punishment for being antisocial and curmudgeonly and God, I want you to know that I accept your judgment, even though I don't accept you.
And then I got home and there was a text message from the friend I'd called, telling me that everything would be OK and that she was there for me. And as I read this, I suddenly remembered the boozy argument I'd made to her earlier in the night, giving her shit about her boyfriend, a man of whom I am obviously jealous.
And that's so me, you know? I give my friends shit, and I tear them down in my mind, never realizing the shit that I've given them, and yet they are there for me.
I spit on myself. I spit on myself. God, please let my niece be OK. God, please.
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