It starts with thoughts of a girl I've been hanging out with. (Not those thoughts, cretins.) Those thoughts some how lead to the song "Patience" by Guns 'N' Roses. That's probably because it's playing on the Ipod so my mind drifts some more. This time I stay more on subject, because the joke leads me to the joke a comedian named Earl used to tell while I was down in LA. Basically, the punchline was that the first time he had sex was to this song. And he was done by time Axl began to whistle. (Hilarious, I know. I chuckle to myself in bed.) Despite my utter, utter love of this joke, I found I did not love L.A. Nor did I hate it. I simply hated the debt. A debt of which I'm still facing to this day. So my mind races to debt and what I can do about it. Nothing. Back to square one.
Square One was a great show on PBS. (You can begin to see how my mind was working. Sometimes, it's easier than counting sheep. I try it at work and I can ignore customers for hours this way). Thinking of all that it taught me about math and introducing me to Reg E. Cathy. Then the math brings me back to debt, and I simply push that notion aside while my cat paws at my face. I push her to the ground and momentarily think about setting her on my ex-girlfriends step, wrapped in a big bow. "I couldn't do that. No fate is that cruel," I sez to myself. That's right: sez! There's a moment of silence as I segue to the next thought. Which for some reason is the Boston Red Sox and how they better re-sign Jason Varitek. I think that the Red Sox need a good quality catcher; that is until Russell Martin comes over from the Dodgers in some miracle trade that will no likely piss Danny off.
Danny wrote a blog tonight. I better write one soon or I will be laughed off the Internet. I will log on one day and my account will not be there. The note on the Internet will simply say "the No Jasons Club." And of course, Jason Patric will already have a blog, so I would be one Jason too many. Aah, the Simpsons.
The Simpsons take me back to a simpler time. One where I could laugh and have fun without the joys of alcohol. (There goes my mind tangent again. Alcohol not present, suddenly I've connected the dots through haphazard thoughts again. Go figure.) Does anyone remember those times? Before alcohol, when fun could be had sane and sober. It had to happen at one point. Maybe alcohol has become a crutch. I used to have a beer to have fun. Now, I have one because I'm bored. And everything seems funner that way. That can't be the way of life, can it. I mean, my friends and I used to have fun sans booze, right. I mean, we went to those plays in college. (Wait, booze.) Okay, we saw Episode II of Star Wars (illicit drugs). I mean, there had to be one time we did something fun without the aid of booze.
I rack my brain. Not to intensely, but I come to the realization that it doesn't matter. I haven't been nearly as drunk as them. I simply revel in their good times and their tomfoolery. Okay, not really. I have been nearly as drunk as them on most occasions. The fact is, the good times and memories are always there, no matter booze aided or clean and sober. It's the memories that matter, man. The good times. I don't know, but at that exact moment, I become sentimental and realize that things are fine. That, despite being thirty and bed ridden the last two days with a mysterious illness, my life is not flashing before my eyes. I am simply remembering that life is long, and that maybe it's time to get started on having one.
Then Sleep. Where I dream of a bicycle, a maze, Christmas time, and a girl? Can someone get me a dream dictionary please?