The thing about waking up is that you have to do it everyday.
I would imagine there’s some meth addicts that don’t, so it’s not a general rule. But for most of us - everyday.
I suppose the alternative, the only alternative we know about, would be a lot a worse...or better depending on your religious beliefs.
But, man, if I could just skip it just once. Just that feeling of everything I’ve ever done and everything I’m expecting to do just hitting me slowly like a bag of shit in zero gravity….
Captain, it’s in the airlock. It’s opening the doors.
Is it the bag of shit?
It’s the bag of shit.
Jesus, can’t you do something?
There’s nothing we can do. It’s now in the cabin floating towards your face. Because of the nature of this bag of shit, it will break on contact with anything.
I have no problem with life. I have a problem with reflection and forward thinking. I wish I could live in the now. Most people will tell you that living in the moment is the only way to live. And they’re probably right. I imagine those people just get stuck on park benches staring at ducks, though. Living in the moment could be like a coma for all I know.
Doctor, he’s breathing, but there’s no response to any stimuli.
Have you tried blowing in his face?
Yes.
Well, I’m out of ideas. He must be in a coma. Or...OR he’s living in the moment.
Should we put him back on the bench?
I’m a fan of smoking. It’s not like I root for smoking. If smoking were a baseball team, I’d probably like have none of the baseball cards associated with that team. I mean, I’d have some of the error cards maybe. Like the one of the cigarette holding a bat that says “Fuck Face” at the bottom. But beyond that, I wouldn’t be like a guy who would go see their games. I just mean that I like to smoke.
I was talking with a friend and one of the best things about smoking is that you can leave whatever you’re doing for about ten minutes and everyone just views it as normal.
I’ve never seen anyone at a party do that without smoking: just leave for ten minutes every hour and pace outside. Well, I have, but the person was trying to calm down after I kept promising to not throw cigarette butts on their deck and then doing it.
But you see my point: as a smoker you get these, pardon the pun, breathers where you can just ditch whatever you’re doing for ten minutes and just reset.
Only someone as lazy as me would need a “break” from a party, but it’s true. And smoking helps me take those breaks.
It also ends your life and slowly suffocates you.
So, there’s ups and downs.
Point is, generally I wake up and go outside and smoke.
The only real downer about it is you get this stimulant right when you get up so there’s no gradual wake up, it’s like all of a sudden everything you’ve done hits you in the face in about three puffs.
Having a life is like walking around with a bag that someone keeps packing. The bag is almost endlessly big and whoever is packing it just keeps on doing it and when you wake up, you’re generally looking around that bag trying to figure out what the shittiest parts are so you can somehow get rid of them but there’s no garbage can around so you just kind of huck them at a bird or something.
“Later, time I threw up on my mother-in-law’s lap.”
But the bag just grows and you’re left on the porch smoking a cigarette and throwing your troubles at birds.
Then again, I prefer the bag of shit hitting you in slow motion metaphor better. You know what they say: one man’s bag of shit is another man’s throwing memories of vomitting at birds.
Generally, I’ll take a shower after I smoke. I feel a shower is the closest I get to religion. You take off your clothes and see just how ugly you are and then you wash yourself for fifteen minutes. It’s like confession.
Someone told me once you only need to wash your hair once a week. I followed that advice until I got lice.
That’s the thing about life: one thing might work for one person, but this other person over here has lice because of it.
That’s the point I like to drive home with politics: you might like this candidate and you over there might like this other candidate, but one of you is going to get lice.
I don’t eat breakfast. When I get out of the shower I typically smoke another cigarette. Two hours later I might have a snack. Then lunch. But I don’t wake up and just start eating things. I think that’s just really going overboard. These people that are up for like a half hour and already are eating. Can’t they wait? I mean, give it some time. You don’t go to the rodeo and just start watching the bull riding - you get a beer and you have a smoke and sit on a bench throwing your troubles at birds and getting lice and you say “Hi” to this one dude with this really big hat on and you realize it’s your uncle Owen and so you start talking to him about that one time you barfed on his back on that long car ride to Oklahoma.
That’s pretty specific, but that is also EXACTLY what happens every time you go to a rodeo.
I should know. I made up the whole idea of rodeos. I had these cattle and I was bored and I said to this one guy “Hey, fella - you feel like riding a bull?”
And the fella goes “How do you ride a bull?”
Then I say I don’t know, but let’s find out.
So he gets on the bull and the bull kills him.
But all these people came: family, friends, ambulances….they all were totally into the bull riding. So, then I just started making them pay the next time I met another fella.
Fellas are rare. You might call every man you know a “fella”, but they are not. A fella is a very specific kind of dude. He listens to Journey and drinks a lot of beer and has a hat and a beard. That’s a fella. They all meet and do cool shit like go to Journey cover band concerts with their hats.
Oh, and their hats all have Confederate flags on them.
So, fella’s are racists.
So, the next time you call someone a fella….
And that’s why I don’t eat breakfast.
I work for a living. Which implies that if I didn’t work I would die. Don’t worry - if I lose my job I won’t die. The wife and the kids might, but I won’t. I have a plan if I lose my job: I will become a bullfighter. But honestly, you can get away with not having a job. There’s TONS of people that do it. Like those guys that ask for change on the corner of the street. They don’t have jobs, unless you count the standing on the corner and asking for change as a job. Which it kinda is. But there’s also these Yogis that just sit and do nothing and they make a living doing it. But then, sitting and doing nothing is kinda a job. So, you really can’t not have a job. I mean, if you just walk around all day you either die or someone gives you something so you can live. So, even walking around all day can be a job. Not a good one. It’s not like there’s a class on how to walk around all day at some college. But there could be one. I could teach it. I could even write the text book. It’s just all about walking around aimlessly. Seems easy, right? Well, it’s not. Most people eventually start aiming at something. Like maybe getting a cup of coffee. So, then they are bad at that job. And then they need my help. The President should hire me to create jobs. Like that rodeo one and the walking aimlessly one. I would save this country. But then you’d vote for me and I’d get lice again.
That’s not to say the country is in trouble. I think the country is 100% perfect right now. I have food and cigarettes and beer. You know what that tells me? That tells me I have everything. And I’m just a normal man. Most people are exactly like me: waking up and smoking cigarettes and not having breakfast. So, if I’m normal and I’m American and I’m 100%, then America is doing great. There’s no need for an election. Just say “Hey, we made it.” And then stop paying taxes.
I’m not super sure what I do for a living. They hired me nine years ago and kinda just showed me where I sat and people came over and tried to show me how to do things with the computer thingy and I wasn’t really grasping it, but at the same time I would bring in donuts to make up for my shortcomings. So, then they started just kindov ignoring I was here. But then I told them about the rodeo and then they really started avoiding me. Then I got the lice and the boss wouldn’t even come near me. So, basically, they keep sending me money, but I really just sit at my desk and pretend that I’m using the email thing.
Oh, and I smoke a bunch.
After work I go out for drinks with my buddies. There’s Guy in the Red Hat and Doug. I always forget Guy in the Red Hat’s name because I’m always drinking when I’m with him. I remember Doug’s name because Doug is such a stupid name. Honestly, if your name is Doug you should do something about it. Like make it longer, like Dougery. That would be a good name. It’s a shame that Doug isn’t like short for something else and then you could just go by that, but no, you’re screwed and your name is Doug.
Doug works for a store that sells stoves.
Hey Doug, 1990 called and no one has a stove or a corncob pipe anymore - get a real job! But Doug likes it. I asked him the other day “Sell any stoves today?” And he said “No, but someone returned one.” And then I asked if that someone was a caveman and Doug said “No.” But you could tell he thought it was funny, because he just kept hitting me and hitting me like it was funnier than that time I slept with his wife.
Guy in the Red Hat is pretty cool, as long as you don’t let on that you don’t know his name, because then he gets awful angry and starts hitting you like you said the funniest thing in the world. He’s not exactly homeless - he has a home, but it’s a tree, so it’s like he’s homeless but he’s not. He just goes into the park after his job drinking at the bar and just goes and sleeps there under this tree of his. I got him this sign to hang on the tree it says “Tree, sweet Tree” like that sign you see in houses that says “Crack, sweet crack”. Anyway, he didn’t find it funny, but he did hit me.
After the bar I will go home and eat a pizza or a taco or something. Then I go to sleep again.
Life is a never ending saga of rodeos and lice. That’s the point I’m trying to make here.
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