Between the bars
January 14, 2007WASHINGTON — January: done. I know we’re only 14 days into the year, but I’m done with it all ready. School begins Tuesday. Once it does, well, then we begin the long downward move toward summer.
I look forward to it actually. Because once we move past mid-February it’s all down hill. Spring is a fantastic time, generally speaking, and April begins the baseball season.
May and June are glorious for their lazy demeanor. August’s decline sharpens — sending me whirling into the next year.
It’s broad, I know, and I’m generalizing here. But what else am I going to say? I’m hung up on a girl? You want me to talk about that?
“Again?” my associate say.
“Yes,” I say. “There’s two requirements I have pertaining to women: they must make my blood boil — “
“Like the Bay of Pigs?”
“No. Not like the Bay of Pigs. What the hell does that mean?
“I don’t know…in a movie once.”
“You’re a jackass. No. Like water in a pot my blood boils. A pot if tomato soup almost”
“What’s the other?
The other thing is that they’ve — those girls have got to be unobtainable.”
“Glut of pain?
“Oh yes. There’s an excessive supply. I’ve glut the appetite. I’m fat with it. The glut, it stains my shirt even. And yet I want more. Need more,” I say out of breath like an obese kid that just climb the stairs to science class.
My associate knows not what to say. He’s quenched with that driftwood piece of girlfriend he’s got taking his time.
“Well, Mike. I don’t know what to say,” he says.
“No kidding,” I say. “No kidding.”
I had some appropriate music picked out to go with this one, but I didn’t get around to recording it. Tough luck.
When I’m done fattening myself at my parents house (and all that comes standard: self-loathing and such), maybe I’ll have some time to sit down and think this out for you. My desire to dive deep — let’s just say I’m pulling back a bit on this one. It’s a little too close to the bone. And as the polly’s like to say, the situation’s still fluid.
But the one thing I do know is that I’m going to lose an organ of some kind to this girl. A Pancreas or something. A Spigelian sack or something. Of all the ones I know or knew, I think this lady’s got my number. Christ.