I had a great post for tonight. Something allegorical. Heartfelt. Not too ambitious, not too affected. But the perfect balance of longing, regret and acrimony. The kind of post you wait months for.
On my way home from work I took a detour. I don’t know how many of you have turned left, when home was to the right. I don’t know how many of you have had to argue with underage waitresses for one more drink. I don’t know if any more than one of you have ever felt lost by your own counsel. But if that’s you, you have my eternal sympathy.
In the great tales, men experience singular crises that cause them to strike out on their own. They beat upon their chests and wail. They overcome and move on.
Unless, of course, they get stuck in the mud.
Goddamn this modern world, spoiling our ennui with its incapable conveniences.
On the way home from work tonight, I decided I would pull over and howl out the moon. And I most certainly did. Where I live, there’s not much but the moon, and I called to her. I may have pissed in her fields for good measure.
But once back in the car, I realized she would have none of this shit. She preordained that I would look the fool.
No matter how much acceleration I gave, the wheels would not move.
Oh, Christ, how many forlorn poets of old had to call for aid from their brothers-in-law via cell phone?
None, I daresay.
Yes. I got stuck in the mud on the way home tonight, piss drunk. I called my sister-in-law’s husband, proprietor of a landscaping company (he did Salma’s lights, no less) to drag me out. Of course, in gratitude I followed him home and got even pissier poor drunk.
And confessed everything.
Do any of you know the burden that is remorse? What it’s like to release that burden?
It’s worth getting stuck in the mud with your pants around your ankles, LET ME ASSURE YOU!
It’s worth it. She’s worth it.
Some things, you can’t hold on to. They’re just bound to slip between your fingers, no matter how hard you grasp. It’s not always a bad thing.
But I haven’t arrived at that realization just quite yet. I’ll let you know. If I make it to TequilaCon06, I just may whisper it in your ear.