Once upon a time, the Barenaked Ladies sang a song. "Who Needs Sleep?" At the time, my love-hate relationship with those wacky Canadians was squarely balanced on that lukewarm line. Though I loved the sentiment of the song in question, I can't deny the song, itself, sucks.
The point being: Really, who needs sleep?
I'm learning that I shouldn't fight my nature, which is apparently nocturnal.
I also learned I can't spell so great.
Hello 5:30am.
For the past few hours, I've been responding to all the people I've known for ages who've written me many times over the past two or three months but with whom I've not kept in touch. It feels good to finally get above water on that.
I think constantly. I think constantly like I'm writing letters all day. If we were a telepathic peoples, I wouldn't have to put fingers to the keyboard because everyone I know would know what I want to say to them. Then again, there are some things best left unknown.
Like how I could have killed someone I just met tonight. For the purposes of self-amusement and a vaguely protective measure, he'll be designated: Suckballs Squarehead.
It seems, I need a 12-step program after all but I'm not sure where it is. "Pardon me, I'm looking for 'After-The-Fact Rage-aholics Anonymous'."
For starters, my dislike of this Suckballs Squarehead is my fault. Sometimes, I let beligerent ignorance piss me off. While we watched Mystic River, he decided to occassionally comment on things that are quite obvious to the viewers who still have a minimum of 4% of their brain functioning.
"He did it."
"That's what they want you to think."
"He's lying about something."
I would have expected him to say, "That guy is sad," or, "Sean Penn's character is a man." But if he had, I might have thought he had a sense of humor. Instead, he displayed the collective wit and charm of your average second grade classroom.
But Mr. Chris, calm down. You're being an overly sensitive fuddy-duddy.
You're right, you're right.
So I loosened up and joined in with comments of my own. After all, he wasn't alone. I could be cool.
All was fine until the end. Granted, the last ten minutes didn't need to take place. However, it wasn't some mind-blowing crazy finale. Nothing should have been confusing.
He admitted he had a question. Some people say, "There is no such thing as a stupid question." Generally, I agree.
He didn't know why Kevin Bacon's runaway wife was a part of the movie at all. I'll agree saying that it wasn't exactly necessary or productive in any definite way, but I understood where it came from.
Someone else answered that it was character development. Exactly. It just deepens our knowledge of the character. Exactly.
Suckballs didn't grasp this. "Why? What, he has a fucked up marriage?"
Sarcastically but not directed at him in any way, shape, form or fashion, I said, "Of course, he's a cop. That's what they do."
My comment was designed to assault the stereotypical fashion in which most police-centric stories hinge their main cop's humanity on how their family ties are severed by the job. I could name ten films right off the bat to illustrate.
Well, Suckballs Squarehead played the part of little bitch and mumbled under his breath in the tone of the child he was being, "Of course, he's a cop. That's what they do." Wah.
I'd been cool. Had cooled off well before that. But I didn't appreciate it. All the same, I barely knew the dude, was a guest in his home and he is a friend of friends. I let it slide.
This is where my After-The-Fact Rage comes in. The more I think about it, the more I realize I had a chance to start a fight or at least, elevate the tension until a fight could possibly break out. And I missed it.
So's you know, I'm not a violent person. To the contrary, I'm a pacisfist by theory and general practice. Thing is, I retain a fair amount of pent up hostility. It stems from many things. Though the lid stays on it, every so often I wish I could just let one person bear the brunt of my fury.
It wouldn't have been a good idea and I know that. I'm not that type of guy and don't want to be. I'm just saying. It was frustrating.
All of it exacerbated because someone very close to me is scaring the shit out of me. His pain, though kept under wraps, has spilled out in other places and breaks my heart. I want to help. I want him to be better. I'm that way with those I love. Then again, I love everyone so to some degree I find myself struggling with everyone else's happiness. I just want everyone to be happy. Not necessarily happy all the time -- the blues build character -- but I want everyone to have happiness within their reach even when they're struggling.
All I could do was go see him after the movie, hug him and tell him I love him. Nothing else made sense but I still hated myself for leaving. It just hurts not fixing it then and there. Not that I could.
These deep-seated emotions awoke something inside me. I'm writing again. I can't stop and this after I complained about being blocked for the past couple days. It's a good thing. Now I'll be able to get down with the Poetic Peace after all.
Lord willin and the creek don't rise, that is.
No comments:
Post a Comment