We can in greatness of mind
Or of body be like the Immortals,
Though we know not to what goal
By day or in the nights
Fate was written that we shall run. – Pindar the Boeotian
It’s amazing what clarity can come with sobriety. Actually, I have no idea what I’m saying. I have Chris Martin’s voice stuck in my head. Does anyone really know where I was for 2 months? Did anyone notice me disappear? I remember when I was a kid I wanted to disappear for a while, thought to be dead, then come back a whole new person. One should be careful what one wishes for, no? I didn’t come back wholly new, but I did make a few small changes. I decided to take control of my life. Control because I have none. When I came back I was adamant about going to Barcelona to see Jose Angel. Jose Angel is a guy I’ve been seeing on and off for 3 years. I just knew I had to. Everyone thinks I’m crazy, and I, sir, neither confirm nor deny this fact. I am crazy. Wait, did I just answer my own question? I drank too much coffee this morning, sorry. So come, have a seat, and try not to spill anything on this lovely couch because if you do, I will stab you.
I was in hell for 2 months. Hell is a hyperbole. Purgatory. Limbo is where babies go, right? So no limbo for me. Anyway, it was hell. I had to clean other people’s shit all day. I had to attend these meetings where people talked about ruining their lives with alcohol. I had to think about what I’ve done to myself, sometimes for hours. It’s amazing what clarity will come with borderline insanity. I asked for an ibuprofen, and I got children’s Motrin. Really? Really. They think that I might get hooked on the goodness of the strong ibuprofen and my dear good sir; I think I just may have. You know how sometimes you can’t sleep so you take 6 xanaxes? I guess not. I do. Then I wash it all down with a giant bottle of cheap wine. It was like fixing a small patch in your house with an entirely new wall. Sometimes if I had a small headache, I would take a Percocet with some Jack Daniels. That was like curing a cold with chemotherapy. I digress, sir. This living purgatory was what I needed. It was what I deserved, and mostly because it was court ordered. They are so smart, those judges. Judicious, slow and sometimes a little gassy, but forthright. They didn’t like me. I was one of those people. You know the kind. The kind that solve their problems at the bottom of a bottle of tequila, then get into their cars and drive into some rich person’s wall. Well condos should get better property insurance, but now that’s my problem isn’t it? I deserved every bit of hell I received. Everything that came to me was due and even a little backed up. I think that’s what made it easy for me. I wasn’t wronged by the justice system. I did what I had to do, and came back. That’s where I was for 2 months…purgatory. That’s all you need to know. In all honesty, a part of me got too comfortable. It’s nice to live in your own absolution. It’s called Apocatastasis. Wiki it.
Am I excited about Spain? Like Kate Moss on a vacation to Columbia, baby. I get to see Europe for the first time. I get to stay 3 weeks, make love to the Spaniards, drink lots of vino and get married. That last one I forgot to mention. Oh yeah, well gay marriage is very legal in Spain. Jealous? Don’t be. Am I answering my own questions again? I have no idea. Everyone thinks I’m crazy yet again for getting married, but I’m almost 26 and I ain’t getting any younger. I need to hold on to somebody while I’m still young cause everything is already starting to go south, and some of them north by northwest. I am going to Valencia, Madrid and mostly staying in Barcelona. We might take a short trip to Perpignon in France. It’s a long deserved vacation. I paid my dues, now it’s time to enjoy myself. When I come back I’ll be cleansed by the Golden coasts of the Mediterranean. The air will cleanse my soul.
“See Daddy, sinners have souls too”. It brought me to tears. Shug Ray and I must be twins or soul mates or perhaps I am her reincarnated. I bawled like a baby, because it was long overdue. I don’t cry much. I have no reason too. Apathy, I can take it or leave it. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe I have emotions now. I’m still trying to muddle through all these feelings. I feel like a newborn, seeing the world for the first time. I’m so held back that sometimes I cry at Sylvan commercials. You know the scene, where he hands his mom his report card for her birthday and he has a “B” instead of a “?”. I just sit there and cry. It feels good. Sitting all alone in the dark, with The Color Purple blaring on the TV and me doing something that I don’t quite understand. Remember I used to be such a whore? Me neither.
What is the point of all this? I ask myself. I rant and rave. I try to find out why, who and when. I like this new feeling. I used to think I had all the answers, and when I didn’t, there was a bottle of Yellow Tail to help me find them. Now I just sit there till I come up with an answer. My brain, my mind, they aren’t used to me doing this. They are anticipating that sweet elixir, but I give it none. I’m no nun. I still like a nice glass of wine. I just don’t use the alcohol to solve problems or ask more questions. I have no more questions. This time around I only have answers.
No comments:
Post a Comment