Thursday, August 20, 2015

Remember to shut your face about nothing.

Dear People Who I Care About,

As you may know, I cannot take care of myself. But so far, I still stand up in the morning. I still drink coffee and fry eggs and construct sandwiches. If you've interfaced with my exoskeleton recently, you've probably noticed little or no difference.

Maybe it's always been this way. Maybe the boiling water at the back of my brain has only drifted forward. Maybe the tiny skull-humans have been yanking on different wires of late.

I'm depressed. More accurately, I'm my own diluted version of depressed: not sad enough to use that word; not happy enough to jump in a lake. I can't compare my heart failure to anybody else's. I cannot hold variables constant or compare my malaise against a control group. What I can do is put my foot right through a wall. In the interest of preserving my toes, I haven't tried that yet. So I sit still and smolder...

I quit smoking weed a few days ago. That's fine. I quit taking Adderall a few weeks ago. That's fine. That's probably a set of sound decisions. They stopped working well. They stopped working, and I probably don't need tiny idiots tossing darts around inside my skull-bulge.

Drugs vs. no-drugs doesn't solve my problem. I can't rely on myself to do anything. I can't beg my body to sit up straight. All I can do is cycle through frustration, discontent, and the brief giddy interim.

So, I haven't been writing much. Who wants to read about privileged Americans who choose to sit at home?

Ah, the giddy interim! I get happy, but it doesn't last. I'm relieved when I'm happy. It still happens reasonably often, but I've recognized a trend. Happy or sad, I always feel like I'm standing outside my body and looking at myself. Maybe everyone does. Maybe I'm describing this wrong. Whatever this is, I'm not comfortable. Most of the time, I'd like to punch myself. Given those extra invisible fists, I'd punch myself right in the gut. I'd hit hard enough to be real sorry about it, and maybe even puke on my shoes. That's what I get. That's what happens when you can't shut your face about nothing.

Maybe a less shitty car would cheer me up. Pow! Right in the gut, you idiot!

I sure am pissed about agreeing to this rent-and-bills racket. Boof! You puked on your shoes, you fleshy illusion!

I'm being gently slapped by a thousand invisible hands.

(Camp is great. Send more cookies.)



Anonymous said...

bout' time you came back. lets talk bicycle travel van dwelling etc

Tim Joe Comstock said...

chfis is there any chance you could make interbike and be my spirit guide/ Hfre's the deal: my son beau is in prison there (indian springs) and needs a visit. I can afford to fly my ass out there but, being a rural hick, my abilities stop there. plus, stealth camping or just crashing on friendly mandalay bay balconies is more my style.

nick will be there, apparently, and so on...but i will need to beg borrow or steal a bicycle to ride the 45 miles to the prison.

I know. I can read your mind remote control.

At the same time, it may help with your mental funk and mine as well.

Whatever. I had to ask

Pixie Morningdust said...

I don't think I'm going to make it to Interbike this round. I have some backpacking planned around then, and some debts already owed. It still sounds like your plan is feasible, and you should definitely go see your son. Interbike is bound to be fun, even if it's a bunch of fancy junk and you're a fly on the wall.

Well, the hard part is still getting a bike. Having me there wouldn't help much with that. I can provide the same amount of help from here. Option 1) get a Bike Friday with travel case, unfold it at the airport baggage claim, and be on your way. 2) pack a bicycle up at home. It'll cost some money to get it on the plane, but it might not be terrible. 3) Ship the bike out there and back. You can ship it to a bike shop if you ask them. Compare costs with flying it. A shop there can ship it back for you too. 4) get a Craigslist bike and either leave it there or ship it home if you like it enough. Someone might even buy it back for less, making it effectively a rental.

I liked my Bike Friday. I sold it for rent money 10 years ago, and never had enough money for another one again. I'd say to hitchhike, but that generally is frowned upon outside a prison - you could get there fine, but getting a ride back again might be a challenge.

I think you should do it, and let me know how it worked out.

Tim Joe Comstock said...

OK thanks for listening. 'tis a delemma, to be sure. BTW, I recently bought a nashbar single speed with track ends and I will be needing a three speed rear wheel. It would be a real honor if you could help out.

Price is no object as long as there isn't much money involved.