Subject: Freedom! is sad
Thanks for the email of condolence, G. Or intended condolence. Maybe it’s a compliment, because you’re in the emotion-provoking business, but it made me sadder. I think it was your haiku-like simplicity: “That sucks.” Indeed it does.
It’s the unfairness of it that sticks in my craw. Getting fired for snooping? The government does it! (Do they still do it? I forget how that turned out.) And my note to Nicole wasn’t work-related, so how can looking for it be “unprofessional conduct”? Looked at that way, isn’t sleeping — which I’ve been doing a lot — “unprofessional conduct”? It is now, because I don’t have a job.
So make no mistake, dude, I am sad, straight up. It’s been over a week, but everything still seems to be pointing in a negative direction. I mean, here I am in “the greatest city in the world,” (Hamilton) and yet, I feel like a lonely castaway trapped on an island, which is partially true since I live on an island. Not Manhattan, which would be a great island to be trapped on if it weren’t cripplingly expensive, but Roosevelt Island, which the realtor swore was on the verge of becoming the next Flushing, although five years later it’s not even Ozone Park.
In fact, last night I was standing up in my apartment, which is a converted storage closet in what used to be a rec center (it still kind of has that rubbery kickball smell), and I realized, I can’t even stretch my arms out! Portent! Well, not portent maybe. Metaphor? You would know. I never believed in portents anyway. I used to once, back when I locked eyes with Cathy across a crowded room and thought we were destined to be together — but really how could we not lock eyes when we were both so much taller than everyone else. And now she’s snuggling in the arms of Avram. (Although I’ve seen his picture — his super hard Israeli arms and torso don’t exactly seem like prime snuggling areas.)
And just now, when I called home to tell my parents what had happened, Mom practically sobbed into the phone, “The New York Times is full of articles about grown men moving back home to be supported by their parents but you never think it will happen to you twice.” She said “twice” because my brother Tommy, the Crossfit guy, moved back home a few months ago after his divorce. Back to my old bedroom in Ridgewood, NJ. That’s be fun, ha ha (ironic “ha ha”)! But you know what? That’s not going to happen, Glenn. Sorting things out with a good friend like you has made me realize: It’s time for Brian 2.0!
What is Brian 2.0, you ask? Brian 2.0 is a Brian who achieves small
Sorry, Glenn, I hit “send” accidentally. What I was saying was Brian 2.0 achieves small victories on his way to big ones. Small victory example — every day since I was fired I’ve been expecting Mr. Wicker to call and say it was all a mistake. Today I didn’t! I knew that that was just the fantasy of a loser! I mean, I still hoped he would, preferably with a coerced apology from Kyle and a lesser, greasy one from A.J. But it doesn’t matter, I’m moving on. Put that one in the “big victory” column.
I know, this is like the third revelation I’ve had — Jane inspiring me to write was one, and you almost dying was another. (Do you still eat sausage, by the way? I love it. And now I associate it with you choking.) But maybe I need these continued revs (revelations) because I’m slow. Or, or and/or, the universe is really trying to make its point.
Yesterday’s little victory was me joining LinkedIn, to improve my “professional” network, ha ha! (Mocking ‘ha ha” that time.) But I don’t see anyone named “Nicole” at our office building. What if she’s not a professional? Not that I think any less of her, but maybe the gap in accomplishment made her too intimidated to believe we had a future. Dammit, that note (wherever it is) would have helped a lot. But that’s a loser attitude, which is no longer associated with
— Bri 2.0
P.S. — I haven’t connected with you on LinkedIn yet either, but that doesn’t surprise me, since a lot of people wouldn’t call what you do a profession, in the best possible sense of that word.
P.P.S. — But you know who I did get a follow from is Jane. I guess she’s gone back to her first love — pharmaceutical marketing. Of course, technically her first love was you, since you met in college, but maybe she’s also loved pharmaceutical marketing since she was a little girl. Hard to imagine, though.
P.P.P.S. — Also, in case you were wondering, nothing on her page about the sex club, but then that’s not really LinkedIn material unless you’re specifically in that industry.