..because that's when all the bad stuff comes calling.
As long as the sun is out, I can maintain. I mean, I might actually see, and if lucky, talk to real, human-type people. But when night falls, it's just me and, well, me.
It wasn't always thus. When I had a love who lived across the country, I could depend on a 7:00 p.m. call. Every night. Either she'd call me, or I'd call her. We would talk about our days and say all the things to each other we said while together. I didn't feel alone at all, and I knew each day brought us closer to being together, there or here.
Later, when I had a love who lived not so far away (even in the same time zone), I...well, never mind that. Not going there.
Nowadays, all that's left are memories and a cold, empty pad. Some nights -- when I must -- I work, other times I read. I look forward to the earliest moment I can go to bed and not wake up at 4:00 a.m. to stare at the ceiling until it's really time to start a new day.
PARENTHETICAL THANKS-AGAIN-TO-THE-FRIEND-WHO-GAVE-ME-THE-KEYBOARD THOUGHT: Music helps. Boy, does it help. I have been pecking away this evening, and a few random bits of information are starting to come back. Not enough, of course, but each correctly picked-out melody, each interesting chord progression, makes me feel a bit better. The effect is cumulative.
I dislike cooking anyway, but I despise cooking for one, despise not having anyone to share kitchen duties -- which always left me washing dishes after -- and tend to simply slap "meals" together.
By and large, my neighbors are no help. They tend to use evenings to get wasted (via major excesses of doobage or alcohol) and, while I am far from immune to the latter temptation, I don't need their help to ratchet it up. Amazing, because they invariably have companionship.
I guess you're never really satisfied with what you have.
No, that's a miserable lie. I was deliriously happy with what I had during two previous spans of time. Does my lack of desire to shop around, to sample other treats, make me weird? One of my serious encounters -- two, if you count my ex-wife -- make me think so. But my heart and my personal beliefs tell me "no."
What I do know is that I have grown to dislike and fear the night, have come to do whatever I can to rush it by and hope for something better when the sun rises again.
In this mood, I dare not listen to Diana Krall, Jim.
Back to the other keyboard.
6 hours ago