Dispatches from the Edge of 2015

I’m writing this from my phone, one peck of a letter at a time. Please forgive any spelling furors. I’m trapped at my parents house for the next week. My brother lives nearby. To understand him, he has more money than is beneficial to an extended adolescent and a live-in girlfriend who said all she needed to wake-up was a double tequila shot–she’s in her late 40’s–no judgement.

Our outpost is in a retirement community. I’m being fed well, neck deep in cold cuts and cookies. There is no water, the closest I could find is Corona. No entertainment outside the familial wheel of judgement (don’t judge us).

hasselhoff 5 second rule
A metaphor of my current existence. Thanks, The Hoff.

Entropy of mind and spirit are settling in, squatting on my good humour like an Inuit expelling digested whale blubber over a frozen waste hole (Is that offensive? My moral barometer has been eroded through sustained interactions with avowed bigots.)

Over Christmas I learned a few things that summoned the corrosive goblin of depression:

  • You won’t go broke being the only fast food joint open on Christmas in a 10 mile radius (twice drove by a drive-thru line that wrapped around the building)
  • There are no off-days for casinos (again. A long line of cars heading to and from an Indian casino all day)
  • Newspapers still exist, but I think they’re government run and sending cryptic messages to operatives.

    IMG_20151227_140127
    A real caption I saw on the “Congratulations” announcement page. Presumably congratulating Henry on predicting the year of his death.
  • Family is who you choose and those who choose you in return. It’s a concept left to the individual to define, not the random misfortune of genetics.
  • More money may grant a child better opportunities, but certainly not better parenting. Related: People who are all-consumed with money, talking about how much they make and spend, etc. are the most insecure people in existence.
  • I am confident that when I return home, my house will lay in ruin. It’s not anxiety, I’m just forging my resolve in steel for when I face the reality of my hyperbolic imagination.
  • Spending the holiday taint with your family is not for the  faint of heart.
  • I wish right now I had nearly as many drugs as it took to create the Star Wars Holiday Special.star-wars-the-complete-saga-20111218111107640-000
  • Wishes are ineffective.

This is where I leave my sanity. Madness settles in like an aging father into a well-worn leather recliner. Send help…or drugs, George Lucas early 80’s level drugs.

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7 Comments

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  1. “Spending the holiday taint with your family is not for the faint of heart.” I have definitely been missing out. The mistletoe is going back up as soon as I get home.

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  2. I’m so sorry. You couldn’t pay me to spend any holiday with a relative. I know you’ll be tempted to have some Coronas before you make the drive home, but please don’t get pinched for a DUI.

    Love,
    Janie

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  3. No bars in the area? I would have been insightful enough to bring my good drugs in order to handle my relatives. Handling my mother alone incorporates packing a carry-on case full of the best stuff money and my brain can handle. Yes, my mother is that bad.

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  4. I am lucky that I get along with all my family, I am also lucky that I since we all live within a 10 minute drive of each other, well more or less 10 minutes, Kathy is 20 minutes away but that doesn’t stop up seeing her two or three times a week.

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  5. A happy New Year, I hope 2016 proves to be all Hunky Dory and sparkly. . . I think that is good, it sounds like it should be good

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  6. You are always an absolute pleasure to read. Your posts I read all the way through. No skimming, as I might miss some form of enlightenment. I love my family, but 2 straight days and I’m mentally deranged. I feel your pain, good person (maybe I missed something, but I’m not yet sure of your gender-not that it matters).

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  7. Oh no! You sound like you are sending out messages from capitivity. “If this reaches you, please know that I am alive and being well-fed. If this is the last you hear from me, then please [etc.].”

    Poor Henry!

    I guess you should keep checking the newspaper to see if it gives you insight into how long you have left.

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