bj's gay porno-crazed ramblings

Thursday, February 07, 2008
Tired but I ain't sleeping
Thinking about some sad affair

Ya know how a song's actual meaning may have little to do with what it means to you? I can't tell you what this song means, really - but, if you listen to it, you'll certainly get that it's a sad song. A buddy of mine turned me on to it some years ago, and it didn't take on any real meaning for me until some time later, when an uncle of his passed away. A very close uncle, in fact, and I knew it was hard for him. And for some reason I just went and found the song, and somehow felt my friend's sadness more, um, I guess just more. And that sort of thing always leads me to thinking about the times someone close to me has passed away, and all the scary thoughts that go along with it. like with my Dad, even today, I can still be mad at him for going way too early, and not taking care of himself, and...well, you get the idea... I even remember how, after coming back to NYC, and getting back into the mundane things in life, there were times when I would stop, in the middle of the sidewalk or street even, and have this barely controllable urge to just start screaming - "What is wrong with you people? How can you just pretend nothing is wrong and go an and..." But I'd never actually do it; never had the balls to do it. And sometimes I'd stop myself and realize I was angry at myself, for having the nerve to go on, and act like everything is OK.

And what do you do when you feel this overwhelming sense of loss, and it's not even your loss? It's almost, I dunno, insulting to get all at a loss for words, and despondent, and well, sad. but maybe it's what you gotta do, somehow your body helps you understand the pain someone else is going thru by reminding you of when it hurt so bad you wanted to scream but couldn't. Damn - I even remember at my dad's funeral, the goddamn priest, who never met my father, didn't have a clue, and was rambling on about some nonsense, and I wanted to stand up in church and say who the f*ck are you, you don't know what the f*ck you're talking about, shut the fu*ck up!, but didn't. Funny thing is, it's been 10, 12, fuck, I don't even know exactly how many years, but still, I still regret not telling that asshole to shut up. Ridiculous, right? He didn't say anything mean, or horribly inaccurate, I guess the anger had to go towards something, and why not towards the stoopid priest saying a few generic words of nonsense.

about a week later, I'm at work, and being the dick supervisor I was at this calling center, someone is goofing off, and I mildly reprimand him, and someone pulls me aside, and tells me the guy's upset cuz his mom's in the hospital. and while I didn't really do anything wrong, I just lost it. I just ran to some isolated place in the office, cried my eyes out for a few minutes, and just as I thought I was going to be OK, I started yelling at my father. Standing at the freight elevator, telling off my father - for leaving way too soon, not taking care of himself, leaving my mother all alone in the world, and I went on and on for a few minutes, then got my shit together, and went back to work. (Good thing about being a 4-eyes is our glasses easily hide when you've been crying) I walked back to where the interviewer was, and before he could look too defensive, told him sorry I snapped at you; I'm having a rough day. Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you. and walked away before he could say anything. But I think he got that I got it, and i at least felt a bit more human.

geez,funny the shit you think about at 4am when you can't sleep...