Thanksgiving

I spent 2 hours today trying to start a car as the sun was setting. Another 2 hours waiting on AAA to come to the rescue. Just kept trying to get the key to turn in a stuck ignition. Dozens of variations on jiggling, pushing, pulling, pressing, vibrating, shaking, and then doing all of that while jiggling, shaking, rattling, and jerking off the steering wheel.

There was to be no turkey. By the time I got back to our family house it was 10:30pm and I was no closer to my friend’s house in Denver than when I left at 5:00pm.

A very special Thanksgiving indeed. Still not the worst. Can you take comfort in “still not the worst?” I am trying to.

My family was far away in Georgia, my brother working, my mother feeling sick, my friends in the City of Angels, with the rest speckling the United States. I feel so … I jerked at the key, my father had told me that he didn’t have trouble with it, just needed the right sequence of pushing, turning and pulling.

I just kept trying and trying. Stopping to call a couple of friends. To tell one I was stuck, to complain to another, to say goodnight to another. I would press my forehead to the steering wheel in the darkness. Trying desperately to feel the lock, to find the right pressure — pushing as hard as I thought I could without breaking the key.

At one point my thumb started to go numb from turning the key so much.

I felt crazy.

I just keep trying, keep hoping the key will turn.

Is 3 months in 2015 destined to be all I get of having my life click? Meeting that woman I could communicate with and who wanted my presence? Is that the fucking best I get?

I’m still damn worried about Her.

I’m worried about me. Nothing is really working right now and when something does? When I get something done (albeit for someone else) it has all the fulfillment of eating air for dinner.

Love seems so far. Life seems so far.


All we get is the present. This. Moment.

We don’t get to forever fill our moments with the things that matter. This feeling, this fleeting moment that is now. We, victims of our well-honed genetic programming, can hardly appreciate the now.

Sometimes it just works. Sometimes the moments seem to flow together as if a river of puzzle pieces were coming together into perfect completed puzzles every moment, something new, as they flowed down the riverbed of our lives.

And others?

An emptiness.

I’m bad at keeping friends, bad at reaching out, bad at finding love. So bad at all of it. This year has been awful. More nights spent wondering where I was going to sleep than I wanted. Nights spent wishing I could help this woman I fell in love with find solace. Instead she chose to find escape in drugs and asshole guys.

These moments when every choice feels like failure. As if the fates are taking turns in their wicked turnabouts. Being sure to shatter hopes.

My thumb is still a little numb.

I feel as if I let everyone down now. Family, friends, lovers. I’m trying to think of anyone who cares, who dares to care, who hasn’t been let down. I perfect track record of letting people down?

And for once in my life I wish for a restart, a chance to go back to those early years where I was so utterly clueless and give me a clue. Challenge my misconceptions, not feed the same bullshit so many others do.

The locksmith became ass-hurt tonight when my mother nervously suggested concern about him stealing the car — it was her expression of fear, of not understanding what was going on and having experienced so many bad things in her life. She wasn’t judging this locksmith, she distrusts everyone equally.

He took it personally, a personal affront to his honor to suggest that he’d steal a car and threatened to leave while ranting about how much it would cost to have some dealership fix the car and that there was no where to tow it to anyway. I tried to calm him but he even sent AAA a message saying there was a problem (AAA had screwed up already, sending a locksmith instead of the requested tow-service).

What a fucking baby, to be so offended by this older woman’s fear. I didn’t call him out, agreeing that my mom’s comment had been rude but wanting him to get the car started so I wasn’t stuck. He should be grown-up enough to know the difference between someone challenging his honor and someone just being nervous about the process.

It was frustrating.


It always feels like you’ll never love anyone like that love that last filled your arms. Your mind ensures that relentless focus — I would have married that woman, would have taken care of her and now she, again, refuses to speak to me, to see me.

How do I get it so wrong all the time? How come I can’t just get the damn key to turn?

The pain finds itself amplified by the legitimate fear that she may have been the last chance at finding a woman who would want children with me.

Life is far too long to be this lonely; far too short to be this lonely. Gone in a blink. How can you make it click on that daily basis?

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