I don’t need a fan
or a fawn, I need a fire—
Hot and Wild—black as coal,
as clean as a diamond
in the mud of my soul.
The television’s on.
It’s freezing in here.
I should probably be asleep, but I’m not.
It’s 4:53. It’s always 4:53, when, click, the heat turns on.
Now the draft from the window’s competing with the dull heat, which smells like last years dust, pouring through the vent, above the door, which leads to the living room where the TV’s still on.
In about an hour the sun will be up and it will be another morning.
I can’t tell yet whether or not I’ll be excited or scared, but either way, I have to write my grandmother—thanking her for the letter she sent a couple days prior—she used to fill the cards with glitter but doesn’t anymore…
Perhaps there’s a glitter shortage, I don’t know.
I’ve been pulling my beard out again, which I don’t like, but still do. Why? A doctor would probably claim it’s nerves but by this point in life I know better than that.
It’s funny really, thoughts, how they come and go as easily as a hair can be plucked from your chin.
If I had eggs in the fridge I’d probably boil some for breakfast but I don’t have any because yesterday while shopping I’d debated prices in my head for what seemed like too long to be debating prices of eggs, causing an uncomfortable feeling I just couldn’t shake, making me anxious and aware that I’d been standing in the isle for what seemed like eons though was probably only a couple minutes, still, too long to be debating whether or not I wanted to pay 2.39 or 2.99 for a dozen of eggs.
The heat feels good now, while the right side of my face warms up, the left side is still dealing with the draft from the window.
Common sense tells me to close the window though my better judgement says to just let it be. What’s the point, really?
It’s 5:06 now. It’s always 5:06.
The repetitive nature of this statement keeps recurring in my mind as if the idea isn’t fully mine, though I use it anyway.
Perhaps it’s my conscious mind coming back to me? Perhaps it’s programming I just don’t have the strength to deny, either way…whatever.
It’s 8:08 on the East Coast. My mother’s probably pouring coffee, reading the morning news. My brother’s probably already dragged himself from bed and into work. My nephew’s to school. My sister-in-law to her studio where she makes jewelry from metal and her imagination.
Their routine gives me comfort because right now I don’t have one.
This pandemic has us all in a pretty weird state of affairs, though, my affairs have always been pretty weird now that I think about it.
At least I’m writing again. That’s good.
Everything is pretty all right right now—knock on wood.
And what if this is as good as it gets? Hog wash.
At least it’s warm in here, closing the window, watching the sun rise.
My nail beds are long. I’ve always been told that. “You’ve got piano hands,” they said once, go figure, I don’t play—if I did this would probably make for a better story though, well, you know.
Turning off the TV seems irrational as it’ll just get turned on again tonight, unless, unplugging the TV—Ah! That’s better.
Insomnia, it’s the breakfast of champions.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, the letter.
We lose—only—what we must
allow ourselves to lose,
regardless of the pain
and suffering we choose, to lose
and to gain—
to have what it takes,
to further ourselves
to a better tomorrow.
I never wanted to define you
Just wanted to walk calm beside you
But do I ever do a thing at all?
I never knew how to excite you
Just wanted to be like the fly who
Hung around loving your every move.
I never knew a second chance
As good as that first romance
A third time will only get you killed.
My palms are cold and sweaty now
It makes no difference any how
Like a has been actor thinking what’s the use?
I say it’s maybe
the way God made me
You say it’s crazy
that I’m this damn lazy
I’m addicted maybe
but it’s better this way
After awhile I’ll be all right
I’ll be alright, so.
I think I’ll watch the Super Bowl
Then re-runs of a TV show
Any distraction for two years will do.
I think I’ll start a private club
Then forget and invite everyone
Come one come all come make me feel good.
I never wanted to become
This ordinary silly chum
Up for hours feeling numb and blue.
There’s this movie playing in my head
There’s a plane a girl a detective
Who’s method acting’s got him nowhere new.
You say it’s maybe
the way God made me
And that hey baby
you’re a little lazy
but it’s better this way
this addiction’s crazy
After awhile you’ll be all right
You’ll be alright, so.
The thing that I am trying tell
The thing impossible to sell
A clear cut diamond people get confused.
I never wanted anymore
Than a reason to explore
The imperfections that I found in you.
Like that picture on the cellar door
A sad clown I just couldn’t ignore
His eyes were mine yes they were tried and true.
I wonder if no now I’m bored
I’ll take a couple then some more
Searching my pockets for my next excuse.
I mean anyone will do.