Bent Words

Bent Words

February 23, 2007

I have no idea if I sent the message.

On top of being sick I was completely sauced. I had managed to get into a ‘fight’ with my father which was more about me than him and I had lost all coordination in regards to pouring appropriate proportions of Captain to Coke. As a result, I resorted to Blue Moon beer. I had only The Moon to blame for this unfortunate incident. Ridiculous displacement of blame, yes, but strangely quite rational at the time.

I set forth on an offensively slow internet connection (24kbps) without direction. I wrote e mail messages that I did not send, I checked all of my outlets of public interface and I listened to sad, reminiscent songs after listening to about two dozen sad, reminiscent songs:

The rose I received while ‘Hanging by a Moment’ and how I wondered if he had heard ‘You and Me.’ The night he cried because ‘Nothing Compares to You’ and standing on the pier at the Harp, contemplating ‘I Get to Come Home to You’ as our wedding song.

These songs hit me the same way an air-conditioned grocery store hits you on a 98-degree summer day. It’s almost mean when you’re not properly prepared with a damned parka and mittens. I suppose I wasn’t prepared.
My emotions were already pulled to their utmost tautness. I was thinking about all the changes I needed to make in my life and I was thinking about how short this taut life really is. I was thinking about moving out of Waukesha and away from the motorcycle biz, I was thinking about eating more Brussels sprouts because I had actually not minded them during dinner and I was thinking about school and then, all of a sudden, I was thinking about him. Wondering how he was doing and how unfair it was that I couldn’t just call up to ask.

“Hey, buddy, still alive and kicking?”

That sounds so unfair when there is so much more to it.

How does one abruptly stop caring for human life? How does one erase another from their concerns?

“Love is the active concern for the life and the growth of that which we love. Where this active concern is lacking, there is no love.”

Perhaps it’s silly to still get stuck there. Perhaps it’s normal – if anything I do actually qualifies as normal. Perhaps it’s just a moment. Another one in which I was tangled. But, just the same, I wrote the message. I lingered over it and dismantled it three times. I just wanted to feel connected at that moment – to something, anything. And I saw the profile picture he had – the picture I had taken, that I was connected to – and I just wanted to know. I wanted to know because I have always hated not knowing.

And the irony of it all is that I still don’t know if I even sent the damned message in the first place…

Written at 7:56 a.m.