Joe Speaker

Weird scene these days in my brain. Not unpleasant at all. Rather plush, in fact. Big comfy chairs, good scotch and a decent mix of tunes that does not include either Bonnie Raitt or Air Supply.

But it’s an unsettled place. Unthethered and random. Like I can’t sit still for a second.

It started before Coachella. I can’t go into exact details just yet, but I can say I’d forgotton myself. All the boundaries and rules I’ve strictly followed for nearly 40 years seem inconsequential and…well…wrong. Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like?

It was quite liberating to shirk responsibility, good sense and, quite often, my shirt, those 4+ days in the desert. I had not a care in the universe and was simply able to glide from one delight to another. No deadlines.

But there’s always that foggy feeling of having to come back to the real world. Considering the general disregard of adulthood I felt before I left, the hangover–both from over-indulgence in alcohol and an overabundance of fun–was pretty severe. It seemed as if these tangible desires in the comfy room inside my head were just out of reach and I could only strain for them fruitlessly, which has manifested itself in a complete lack of focus.

Not such a good place from which to write. Or play poker. So I really haven’t done much of either. Conversely, these are two of the things which have fueled this self-examination. On the one hand, I can’t put my finger on central issue here. On the other, it’s both thrilling and fulfilling.

I know…this makes little sense. To me as well. There’s some sort of paradigm shift going on. I can feel it. It’s raining inspiration and I’m somehow not getting wet. Yet.

I am gonna play some fucking poker tonight, though.

=============================================================

I got a text a few days ago from someone telling me he bet $2K on the Warriors-Mavs series. The whole nut on the Warriors winning in 6. Odds of 12-1.  

Beyond my shock today that the bet came in (and his texts last night were nigh unintelligible) is that this person is not much of a gambler. I, in fact, accused him of bullshitting me. I’ve known him a long time and can’t ever recall gambling with him. He’s never been to Vegas (though I suggested we go next weekend). Yet, he risked $2K on a single bet.

Hey! I’m the gambler here! And I’ve never wagered anything close to $2K on a game of chance. Well…except for an engagement ring.

Which reminds me. Congrats CJ! Nice to see you getting your money in ahead for once. WAY ahead by the look and sound of things. My sincerest best wishes to you both.

=============================================================

This is where I offer a conclusion for this rambling slice of near nothingness. Wish I had one. Hard to conclude something when you’ve little idea of what’s going on. It’s kind of cool, though. I spent the last 10 years knowing exactly what I wanted and went out and achieved it. Then lost it in one fell adulterous swoop.

During immediate aftermath of X’s cheating (what I like to call my Begging Phase), she responded to my whole “things will be different” argument by saying she didn’t want me to “change for her.” With the benefit of hindsight, that’s pretty ironic. Because I did change for her. For the worse. I played the part of Daddy Breadwinner, a yolk of responsibility that killed my thirst for experience and adventure. That burden basically crushed the life out of me, the life I was meant to lead traded for mortgages and stringent roles. It was only when I started to write again–to create goddamn it!–that I began to emerge from that straightjacket and find my prior self, the one who didn’t obsessively try to do what he thought was expected, but chased his passion.

It’s nice to chase again. Even if my goals remain blurry and just out of reach. At least my blood is pumping.   

This entry was posted on Friday, May 4th, 2007 at 1:21 pm and is filed under Uncategorized.