Time and Perceptions of Melancholy Reverence
It is 11:18 PM. I saw the truck for the first time since he totaled it today. I thanked her for saving my dad. It was pretty common in those old 90's chevys for the airbags to be faulty from factory, but she deployed. The old 350 under the hood stood firm. That tree probably should have killed him. She died instead. People can say what they want, but to me, that's what that old slogan really meant. Heartbeat of America. Bless that old Chevrolet. I took him home today. He's still a bit of a mess. He's always been a tough old fucker, but today I saw him come within a second of tears. I've only ever seen him cry once before.
It is 11:22 PM. I just got back from a little walk. It's cold. In 38 minutes, it will be Halloween. For a minute, I think about how tired I am. How I have no clue what I am doing or how I intend to fix any of my problems. I think about the dollar bill in my wallet I would rather die than spend. I think about the 2 packs of chicken ramen. I think about what I want and how infinitely unachievable it all is right now. I think about mopars and guitars, and I think about Dodge Dakotas and Chevy S-10s and even VW Jettas. I think about the shitty blue Cobalt my mom had. I think about the house full of mold and mice that forced me into myself far too young. I think about losing my virginity in that shithole's back 40 in a tent. I think about the last time anyone wanted to touch me that way. I think about how I don't know if anyone ever will again. Part of me thinks it would be funny if the last time I ever got laid was in a parking lot.
It is 11:28 PM. I have allowed myself decent food, and so I am waiting for the pork I pulled from the freezer to defrost. I think about my birthday and how it's only a little over a month away now. I think about how I would like to go out. I think about the short list of people I could invite, and I wonder if any of them will come this time. I think about how last year, my mother was the only one to remember me. I wonder if I have improved my standing in this year or made it worse. I wonder if I will even make it that far, anyway. I am trying.
It is 11:31 PM. I am tired and it is cold in here. I will likely be up several more hours. I'm not sure if that should feel as shameful as it does. Hell, everything I feel feels shameful these days. Like I think I should be some kind of robot that doesn't need emotion.
It is 11:33 PM. Believe it or not, this is the best I have been in days. It is just me and some music that is probably too loud in my left ear. Some part of me decides it's okay if I damage my hearing a little in the name of staying alive one more day. I get a text. My father thanks me for helping him get home. It is a simple, one sentence message. He and I both know it is much more than that. For all our flaws, we are the same man. He knows I know him. He knows I have him.
It is 11:36 PM. I consider breaking out my guitar later after I eat. I think I should work out. All the free pizza I have been financially forced to eat is making me fat. I think about getting a perm so I can finally have a mullet. It's a terrible and stupid thought, but I consider it anyways. Fuck it. Who cares anyways? The thing about being terminally alone with yourself is nobody can talk you out of bad ideas. Maybe I'll bring back the sideburns and mustache combo. Not like the amount of romance I get could get worse anyways. No bitches means no bitches. Can't have negative bitches.
It is 11:40 PM. I think I will shut up. I think I will make Mac and cheese and savor it. I think I will have a beer and watch a film, and try to survive one more round. I think I love a few people and I wish I could tell them. Instead, I just go get them. I let them help me where I can. I get out of bed, and I hope that they know that when I put my shoes on and try again, it is because I love them too much to not. I am still here and I am still trying because of love. There are still cats I need to pet and cars I need to fix and fights I need to fight. So I keep thinking.
Anyways. I think it's 11:47 PM and I should make dinner and keep looking forward to what little things there are. Like pork and macaroni. And quietly thanking an old Chevrolet for giving you your dad back. And music blowing out one half of your hearing.
