Not…A Good-time Charlie

Star Date 24092016

Ten hours and five minutes of sleep. Average it out over this last week, and it’s still under five hours a night…but I’ll take it. True Faith, by New Order, is the song rumbling around with Charlie, today:

“True Faith” I feel so extraordinary Something’s got a hold on me I get this feeling I’m in motion A sudden sense of liberty I don’t care ’cause I’m not there And I don’t care if I’m here tomorrow Again and again I’ve taken too much Of the things that cost you too much I used to think that the day would never come I’d see delight in the shade of the morning sun My morning sun is the drug that brings me near To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear I used to think that the day would never come That my life would depend on the morning sun…

Jess has been downstairs going through boxes of this, that, and you guessed…the other thing. I am upstairs, going through pictures. 1996 and 97. My kids were so small. I was thinner. Black hair. No wrinkles. I am looking through all this to send to the girls. I will keep a few here and there, but most should go to them. I don’t recall a lot of the moments in which the pictures were taken…somewhat do to compartmentalizing hurt, pain, loss, etc. Some…just cause I cannot remember, and or Charlie won’t allow something good. 20 years has come and gone in the almost unreal blink of an eye. Although, I tend to blink both eyes at the same time, thus time is going faster? Think on that and get back to me. It is, if I could only use three words to describe going through one’s life: funny, disheartening, sobering. I look at the faces of my daughters and once again, am reminded of how they were and how they still are, in some ways, the same. Gestures, facial contortions, goofy looks. No disputing these two are mine. Were mine, is currently how I am feeling about all this sentimental, can’t take it with you, bullshit. Why do we have pictures, save them, add to them, pass them on? The moments have happened and would actually be fun to think about if things felt and were different than they are, present day, with present news. Sad to anger. Anger to sad. Rinse and repeat. I am undeserved in this…and perhaps most…moments.

Fast forward. When the headache started a few months back, Jess purchased a Groupon for a massage, for me. A gift to ease the tension. If you have never been for a massage, they are relaxing. They don’t start out that way for me, but they end up that way…just gotta get through the stripping of clothes (not all for me) and the awkward ‘stranger danger’ sensation with having an unknown entity massaging you (reference Tommy Boy):

Massage my pet

Today was the day. As part of the massage sale, you fill out a form or two, explaining why you are there and particular areas that are bothering you. …so many obvious directions to take that…alas, I am in no mood. I fill out the form…candidly, honestly. I am led back to my room, do my strip act and wait. I am greeted by my massage therapist…an angry lesbian gal (not that there is anything wrong with that…reference to Seinfeld). A serpent tatt on her ….down her left arm. Gauges in the earlobes. Of interest to me is her height and bone structure. Karen, Red, and Steve, you will love this…she is maybe five foot and clearly has achondroplasia…a genuine midget. Awesome, you might think. Turns out Elements is refusing to honor my Groupon massage because I have a brain tumour. Apparently they feel they can spread El Cancer by massaging me. I laughed out loud. midget was serious. I realize she has superhuman strength, but seriously? Unless you are massaging my temple so hard that you press through my eye socket, I believe we are gonna be okay here. I even offered to sign release forms. It was at this point the manager came in…All 23 years old of her. She claimed the stance was in an effort to promote their client’s safety and wellness. I laughed again. “It’s a tumour, not a blood-born pathogen.” Apparently all would be well if I bring in a doctor’s note. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Fast forward. Back home and back to work…more fun, not. Charlie is in no mood. Not even the sound of walnuts falling on the neighbor’s house is cheering me up. I am irritated. I am further irritated by my feeling as though I am getting my ass kicked. Not so much by Jess, but by all the sh** in boxes. My life, summed up in its physicality. Super encouraging. I love the thought of not being around for more boxes of pictures. For more memories. For more time with kids and grand kids, and so on. How is my life summed up in shit? Why? I am reduced to ash, when I am gone, and in this moment, I am gone too soon. Bad news heaped upon bad news. More tests to baffle genius doctors, whilst I sit and ponder the next 16 days of life. While I look at art that will never get hung on a wall, split pictures and clothing up for my kids, determine what goes where, and to whom. All, just in case. All in an effort to keep Jess from having to do it. …Please, do not misunderstand my shitty tone. I am not upset with Jess by any stretch. I am thankful we are doing this…it needs to be done. I would just rather do it thinking…wishing…hoping, it could be done in a different light, under a different set of circumstances. It cannot. It feels as if I am giving away someone else’s stuff. As if I am dead already. Perhaps that is part of the reason I am pissed, currently. I do not belong ‘here.’ Do not confuse that sentiment with being undeserving of my circumstances/situation. Though I did not ask for this, I am understanding of life. I am given to death. The second I started breathing, I started dying. I just never expected this, this soon. Pissed? Understated. I have a rage inside me that someone going postal would be afraid of seeing. 16 days is too long, and not long enough. Too long to wait and too soon to die. More tests that beget more tests. This was supposed to be a simple, stress headache. That is all. It blew up in to something Jess did and does not deserve to see or be a part of. Obedience. Yep…I was asked to go through this crap…I know better than to cross Jess. She’d kill me before a doctor ever could. I got the vows covered. Now can we get back to the health part? Nope…not for 16 more days.

Spotlight friend(s). About a year ago, Jess was working for a tiny company, called Oracle. She became friends with Karen. Business first, but they became friends. In an effort to force friendship on Karen’s husband and me, Jess and Karen set up a couples’ double date. We met at a place in Southside, called Ibiza. Red said nothing. I was convinced he wanted to kill me right there. Our waitress, though clearly not Uh-mer-can, claimed to be, which made even Red laugh. We had a little something. The gals talked. Red and I did not…so much. It is, after all, only our first date. I smarted off to the server, which set her tone with us for the evening. She did not get my slightly ‘off’ humor. Another key indicator of her communist ways. Red impressed me. Bourbon. Finally, something we can talk about or at least drink in the same company. What? Red glares…not the same company. Got it. Same room? Okay. …but barely. We went back to our place and set a portable heater up outside on the back patio to continue the awkwardness. Cigars were present, as was a now stymied Red, who I’ve no doubt was wondering what this Caucapino (= caucasian Filipino hybrid) is doing by offering up his best bourbon and whiskey. Who cares…he’ll drink to that. Finally, Red chats a little. I’ll take it. Win, win. We would meet again and a couple more times, before Red would really use words…or laugh out loud. Turns out, all I really needed to do was kind of a Three Stooges thing…as one. Okay…and bourbon. Eventually, we would be invited to Karen and Red’s house for Sunday Dinner. Whereupon, I met my albino, Hebrew brother…who resembles:

Uncle Fester…or Steve J

Okay…slightly more handsome and without the creepy black circles under his ojos:

Steve is family to Red and Karen…and now me…and Jess…mostly me. With Steve in the picture, Red opens up a little more. Karen is Karen. Solid on the intellectual side, but able to put the boys to shame with her humour. Steve is in CT, so there are often times when he is not here and we not there. For those times, we have photos of the bird to each other. Love. Together, we are the funniest people on the planet…nay…I say solar system. So funny, that we usually tire Jess out. She does the shady bail …typically to the couch, where she clutches the poop emoji pillow. Bourbon flows as do tears of laughter. There isn’t a single sentence that doesn’t lead to another. Played as though to a script. All together or apart, texts and more laughter…as though we are still together. That’s what framily is for…new word for friends who are family. It strikes me in this moment, the amount of grief shared between the five of us, just this year. Here we are. With Red, Karen, and Steve come the rest of the clan. Braeden, Patrick, and Kenzie. I love the newest members of our framily. They have ditched us for a baby, so there will be no Sunday Dinner this week. Steve will be here next week for Charlie’s party. My framily will be together. Can’t wait. Yet, have to. More waiting.

Fast forward. Norm is on his way. Jess is unaware of my mood…at least the extent of it. She is tired…as she has done all the physical work. I am sorry and know that we will get to do even more, tomorrow. I need some laughter this eve, or all I have left are tears and rage. I do not want to remember any more today. I do not want to memorialize moments of my past…the summary of my life…in pictures in loss. Even if that is a lie. My last and fatal. A doozy. I do not feel alright. I do not feel optimistic. I feel morose. I feel broken. Infractus tamen invictus. Death can kiss my big brown ass. ….someday.

Final thought.

I don’t care who you are…that’s funny. I started my day off alright…with hope…a goal. I wanted this:

By this:

To feel this:

Instead: