I woke up today at ten to eight in the morning. My intentions were put aside again by my malaise. The thought of getting out of bed and going to the gym horrified me. My mental toughness ebbs and flows like a faucet, sometimes its on but most of the time its off. When I rose from my lethargy I put on my running shoes, my sweater, my shorts, and my mp3 player. I brushed my teeth and drank a glass of water before I headed out the door for my morning run.
My run is a short 3 miles on the pavement north Berkeley. En route my ears are filled with Morrissey, Nirvana, Motorhead, Bauhaus, or the Scissor Sisters. My mp3 player is finicky and doesn't seem to allow music to be uploaded onto it to easily. It also seems to have a rather small amount of space on it.
When I got back to the house I did a hundred sit ups and a bunch of neck exercises to strengthen my neck. Strengthening the neck helps when punched in the face. I showered, ate my breakfast of oatmeal and a bagel then rode my bike to work.
I wanted to get to work early so that I could accomplish all my sidework by a little after 5 when the next bartender comes in. My sidework usually consists of throwing kegs around, stocking wines, and cutting lemons. I was ahead of schedule and was cutting lemons during the morning meeting. The meeting was usual, frivolous and unneeded. As one of my coworkers was pontificating on the tastes of the poppy jasper the lemon in my hand slipped from my grasp and the knife sliced into my thumb. My apposable appendage started to gush blood. I whined and ran it under water. My manager came over and looked at it. She told me to put some alcohol swabs on it. The swabs just made it sting more. I held it high in the air as she got a few first aid items together. She dumped some neosporin on it and began to bandage it. I started to feel faint and we sat down. Fifteen minutes had passed and I was still leaking. She bandaged my thumb and put a finger condom on it. I felt woozy and tired. I ate some garlic bread and drank some root beer to recover my lost blood.
I didn't go to the gym after work, instead I came home and morned the loss of my flesh. I hope I get better soon.
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Everything involving the sphere of loss --- that is, what I have lost of myself, the time that has gone; and disappearance, flight and the general evanescence of things, and even what in the prevalent and therefore most vulgar social sense of time is called wasted time – all this finds in that strangely apt old military term, lost children.
1 comment:
Sad. Sad. Sad. If I was there, I'd kiss it.
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