Gut Rumbles
 

March 21, 2008

A blast from the past

Originally published April 25, 2003

I don't know how I ended up in my archives, but I did. Here is something I wrote over a year ago.

I am beginning to reevaulate myself. What I once believed were virtues have cost me dearly and what I once considered vices have cost me, too. The difference is, I had A LOT MORE FUN following my vices instead of my virtues.

Once, I didn't care if the sun came up in the morning. I frittered my days away chasing wine, women and song and had nothing to show for those efforts except an occasional hangover and a lot of unforgettable adventures. But I slept well every night.

Then, I became serious, put my nose to the grindstone, tried to do right and eventually found myself on my knees, with my nose poking into empty air, while a person I loved smashed the back of my head with the grindstone. Then, she ran me off for an unemployed, dope-smoking lover who probably is wearing the jewlery I once owned that I never recovered after the divorce. Why not? The prick moved right in and settled his unemployed ass dead in the middle of the life I once had. The bloodless cunt gave him everything I held precious: herself, my son, my home and my bed. The experience sure enough opened my eyes about those silly notions of love, loyalty and friendship that I once believed were important.

No, that's NOT true. I still believe in every bit of that, and I have friends that rallied around me when I needed them the most to prove it. Friends I've had for twenty or more years. Friends that cared, and still do. Friends that loved me the way I love them. Friends that I will never give up.

I simply must be more careful in the future and steer my trust where it belongs, to friends instead of bloodless cunts.

But I don't sleep much these days.

I am not the same man who posted that entry back then. I still believe everything I wrote, but life is better now. I've dealt with the demons that haunted me during that tumultuous time and I've vanquished most of them. I still don't sleep much, and I have dreams that'll make your flesh curdle. But it's not the end of my world anymore, the way I once saw it.

I dreamed about my father last night. He showed up as a contractor where I work and that seemed perfectly natural, even though I knew that he was 10 years dead. "Pop, what are you doing here?" I asked. "I just came back to check on my retirement," he said. It all made sense at the time. He was wearing a green hardhat, the way contractors do at the plant. I know for sure now that I dream in color.

I dreamed about my ex-wife, too. I dreamed that she moved in across the street where Jack's mother lives and came over riding a skakeboard on her belly. When I asked what she was doing, she said "Oh!, this is a great inner-thigh workout." That made perfect sense at the time, too.

But she wanted to come inside and visit and I told her that I didn't want that. She said, "Okay! Have a GREAT DAY!" and went down the street on her belly, riding a skateboard, still working her inner thighs I suppose.

Those are the kinds of dreams I have when I do manage to sleep. Try it for a couple of years. You become accustomed to it after a while.

I woke up remembering the dream about my father.

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