I can't sleep. I thought I was ok until my redneck roommate from tennesse told me he loves elton john, and of course I said play rocket man. It started playing, and I had to tell him it was about shooting drugs. I had to point out the lyrics. I'm not the man they think I am at home... running down the road of hell alone... I'm a rocket man. Five days a week its cold as hell. If you've never been there, they are cool lyrics. If you have been, it is obvious. He was surprised.
That was just the thing that kept my mind working. Before that I had a fun conversation with someone who thought I was a lonely guy. My ex-wife has been posting signs around miami beach and new york, in my name, asking people to contact me. I've actually had some interesting conversations as a result. I just wish she could find some peace and stop making harassing me her life. It has been seven years since I've talked to her, for christ's sake. She's going to die of cancer, just like her mom if she can't let go of hating me.
Before that it was my new boss telling me I smoke too much at work. Prompted by two of my co-workers who I seem to irritate. One is a woman, and I think she is pissed that I don't flirt with her. The other is a man who is wired so tight, that my laisse faire attitude seems to rub him the wrong way. Again, this is someone who will drive himself to death if he doesn't relax a little, but he can't quite see it. Anyway, the vast majority of my customers love and appreciate my service and attention. They don't miss me when I smoke. The one or two who do though, are the squeeky wheels. Whatever.
Below all that is my romantic drama. I got impatient a couple days ago with a really cute too-young bartender who was supposed to have a pool date with me but blew me off because she was stoned, and I vented on my soulmate who isn't here with me because she has actuall responsabilities. There's also an artist about my age that I'm flirting with who won't pan out either. I know because I have a soulmate who I am supposed to be with, but karma keeps us apart. And then there is the unresolved matter of the parisian lesbian former roommate who won't talk to me anymore. And the beautiful billy the jack russell whom I miss terribly.
I just finished reading deepak chopra's book, buddha. It was good, and I reccommend it. It reminded me that first, life is full of dhukky. There is unpleasantness. Second, that nothing stays the same. There is nothing constant but change. And third, that self is an illusion. Desire is the cause of suffering. The cure for sadness and suffering is to relinquish the self and all of its desires. And all of its pleasures, and all of its pains. And do I really want to do that? Maybe I signed up for this life so I could be thrilled and anguished. Maybe I love the roller-coaster and don't really want to be enlightened and at peace... yet.
Come to think of it, there is absolutely nothing I have imagined that I might like to do that I haven't tried. Except the boat. And you know what? I'm about to let go of the fucking boat. It is something I have longed for for over 20 years, and I can't seem to ever get there. Screw it. So what if I die alone and impoverished? I have no prodgeny to let down. I have no wife to leave alone. I have lived well. I have no regrets.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to die, but maybe I am starting to refocus. Desire is the cause of all suffering, and I'm tired of suffering. All I have to do is stop wanting to be loved, and stop wanting to own a boat... I might be able to do that. And that wired too tight guy? I need to love him. And that chick who is half my age but thinks she knows more than me? Well, I don't know if I can do anything about that. I don't really care what she thinks or what she says, and if she manages to get me fired? Fuck her, god has my back.
It is four in the morning, and I have to get up in five hours and work a double shift. I'll be fine. Its only one day. I can stand on my head for one day. I feel better. I don't need the boat. I don't need the artist or the bartender or the lesbian or even the jack russell. Though I do miss him.
Maybe I've lost my mind. Maybe I'm losing my self. Christ, I hope so.
