Some messages are given in verbal form and some come via actions or through the magical thread that connects us to someone…else.
“I worry about you” comes through loud and clear so I pull over and stare out at the rain.
Lindsay and Stevie sing Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies and I nod along.
It is no surprise to hear the singing in the wires or know that it is a burning thing. Interspersed I hear a different song and wonder if it is just rambling thought or something else that asks what happens if I leave here tomorrow.
Stuck in The…
It is almost 9 PM when I hit the gym and part of me really doesn’t want to be there. I haven’t had a good night of sleep since the mountains were pebbles and the desert a single grain of sand.
I am moving not because I have energy but sheer will. Fear pushed me into coming and it is why I am on this fercockteh rowing machine.
My feet are strapped in and I start the machine. I don’t know why but I don’t warm up I just start giving it all I have got.
Part of me is horrified by the sounds I am making, who the hell is making that noise, we aren’t that old guy are we.
One minute of rowing like the hounds of hell are chasing me is all I have got so I drop the handle and prepare to exit, but I can’t get out.
My fucking feet are so big they barely fit into the cleats and now they are stuck in them. It is awkward bending over to get to them so I make a mental note to figure out if is awkward because I am tired of because I swallowed 29 of the bunnies that run through my yard.
I am still stuck and part of me thinks this is funny and the other part is irritated. I don’t have all night to hang out here.
My baby girl is babysitting tonight, there is a flash flood warning and I have things to do. If I can’t free myself I am going to by the guy that breaks the machine. I’ll look like the weirdo who has metal bars attached to his feet that don’t quite look like skis but must be.
“Woman, it was a really long and hard day. I need to vent.”
Of course I don’t say any of this out loud, I am still busy trying to free my fucking feet from the torture device masked as a rowing machine.
Kathy I am lost, I mutter but there is no answer so I continue with the traditional words of “and I am empty and aching” but I know why.
“You’re in the middle of the firsts, that is hard. You have to fight through it.”
“That is all I am good at. Fighting through it. Got no option, know nothing else other than to do what is required.”
I am playing Words With Friends when the computer plays “Oorie” and I do a double take because it looks like one of the 10,000 ways they misspelled my father’s name.
It is a good thing it is just me in the car because I belted that one out with some emphasis. My voice is just deep enough I rarely have to yell to be heard but this exclamation probably qualifies.
“Dad, if you are here and this is like some screwy scene from Ghost do me a favor and spell your name properly or give me a real sign. One time is an accident, twice is something else.”
There is no answer or signal that gives any indication that anything unusual is going on so I shrug my shoulders.
“If anyone special from the days of Tim, Norb and Willie are around give me a sign. Show me Judy’s porch and what we were going to do there.”
The silence continues.
“Rats, well I suppose it was worth a shot. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Time to go out and get a Pizookie.”
There will be no conversations about the universe or how to prove/disprove scientific hypotheses tonight.
A message comes through asking me if I am always willing to fight so hard for other people. I tell them Saturday night is alright for fighting.
They tell me it is not Saturday night and I say I must have gotten confused.
“You were pretty aggressive there. What is the deal?”
“Don’t bait me or people I care about.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if you act like an asshole I will turn you inside out without a second thought.”
“What is the relationship?”
“You don’t get to ask questions. You get to be a decent person or enjoy a double cup of STFU.”
I am fired up and ready to throw roundhouses with reckless abandon.
It is why I don’t speak with anyone. I know what is going on and what kind of mood I am in. Better to be quiet and work off the steam than get involved in nonsense.
It might have worked if that damn machine hadn’t tried t0 eat my feet.
Got to run now, there are things to do.
“I’ll see you in another life brother.”