I’m tired.
“Thank you!” she told me, for all my hard work. For coming in today. I’ve only heard her voice, but I imagine her to be in her thirties. On the other side of wanting to settle, establishing a career. I’ve worked with many like her over the years. All were on the cusp of marriage, even if they were single. I barely understood them in my early twenties. Now, on the cusp of a new decade myself, I can identify the patterns. The responses are not unusual. She sounds nice. I sometimes get the impulse to tell my boss I don’t want a promotion. I know I’m great, yes, but no thanks. The pressure will do me in one day. It’s all personal regardless of how deeply I bury it.
As kids, we weren’t encouraged to read. Just to do well. Sometimes doing well required books. If it didn’t, then we didn’t bother. It required a focus that could not be taught. I loved television, though, and all the peripherals. Nintendo, Sega, PlayStation. My stories were more simple, and shorter. They were told in spurts. Most had a high score.
I lost the ability to play fighting games years ago. My thumbs, you understand. The abductors and flexors have gone bad.
The reason I’m tired is I don’t know why. I think I’m unhappy, but unsatisfied sounds more apt. I tell friends to shut the fuck up when they start to fight. The women I see are women I can treat badly without remorse. It is all undoubtedly caused by an emotional instability. The same one.
Frankly, I’m not in a mood to move on.
My jaw pops and locks. Sometimes, I can’t chew properly.
I find new places to sleep. In my apartment I have the living room couch, the guest room couch, my bed, the floor beside the balcony door. The last provides me with a cool resting place in the summer. I have the new girl’s bed, her couch, and her floor. She is fond of dark, velvet reds. Her curtains remain drawn in her bedroom and I enjoy it. Her skin is pasty, like mine is becoming. She does as she’s told. I won’t say a name yet. I’ll keep it to myself until after. Imagine all the names one gathers to carry into heaven. Imagine the amount of data.
The forces of wisdom cannot be quantified in our terms. They simply are. To say any one individual is not wise is a foolish assumption and bullshit. Certain individuals experience things more intensely, however, and they are more introspective due to circumstance. Glean more from the data and all. An interpretation of an event that yields more interpretation of the event that yields more interpretation. Eventually, an immovable object that meets an unstoppable force, and thus a different interpretation.
I woke up this afternoon and showered. I was preparing to spend my evening fucking. When I received the call to come in I had no qualms cancelling my plans and I walked out. I turned toward the first floor apartment to the east as I locked my door and noticed a black mass on the concrete. It was a partially obstructed black cat. I squinted at the cat to get its attention and thought I must look very strange—unkempt beard and matted hair, 12 year-old Bosstones t-shirt. I felt like I was getting older. I felt so tired.
