6:15AM. Woke up early like 5:45, stomach wrenched and bubbling with sugary treats and alcohol. Had friends over for dinner, BBQ. Got in a weird mood yesterday, a little wrapped up in the impending holiday, began using the word “America” as a mantra. Went all in on this red-neck nationalist character, ranting while I packed the jars full of cabbage, about how I was like Great-Grandma who packed the rockets to shove up Hitler’s ass in WW2, America.
The mantra effect of repeating that name was weird. How it really starts riling up those sort of aggressive patriotic notions, ones that I don’t consciously entertain, but once I conjured took over. There’s a real lesson in that, about being careful about what you turn over too, and how patriotism is like Love or religious fanaticism, you got to be real careful playing with it.
I hate booze. I’ve known it for quite some time. I rarely if ever drink anymore. I’m a bad drinker. I drink too much, get loose with my words. Last night I picked up this tick where I kept having to check on the whereabouts of the kids. It’s happened a couple of other times. Once I was stealing a nap on the downstairs couch, and I burst out of sleep, sprinted upstairs, convinced that I was supposed to be watching the chitlins. Of course all was well, it was Britney’s day off. She gave me a calm yes, they were all fine, are you okay response.
Last night though it did becomes a tick of sorts. I would be going about my business and then just feel that compulsive need to know the where-abouts of my little ones. And again, lovely wife humored me and always had all three firmly in her mind. That’s what it’s about though, letting go, relaxing. Fact is, having three kids 1, 3, 5, years old does not engender peace of mind.
I think the main cause of the anxiety is because there little. They can just disappear behind a bush, or the trash can, cars in the driveway. I explained it too my Chef buddy, that it was like being in a buzzing kitchen, and how people need to over-communicate, behind-you, hot stuff, coming through knives, that it was like that, me staying in touch with my partner because it’s dangerous work.
Got my 50k, but still have a chapter to go on Nowhere. I am sort of phoning it in on this last one, but I want to at least get my ideas for a conclusion on the page for later review. I feel like I’m cutting it short, that there is a larger story that needs to be told. Same time though I need to move on, and get focused on editing. More importantly, I think this work showed be episodic. There’s not a whole lot of backstory to begin with, so why spend the end resettling everyone into their new normal. It’s better to just end it after the crisis has been resolved, to whatever degree things are ever really solved in life. Ah, the problem of letting go…
Why let go we might ask? Fuck letting go. I don’t want to let go of my wife and kids. I want to hold them tight forever, pressed right up close to my heart and soul. To stay just like they were last night running around, laughing, playing, twirling sparklers. Kein held friend’s 5 month old baby Susie. He’s a brutish guy, but he loves little babies. He demanded right when they got here to hold her. Susie’s Mom gracefully obliged. He beamed ear to ear. Who says that doesn’t live for ever, that it doesn’t ring out in alternative dimensions, beyond space and time, America.
I thought I was passed the America-bug. Maybe for one more day, I ought to let it ring out gloriously. Celebrate this nation of paradox, of sinners and saints. Today I will own it though, and not let it run over me. Do it with sober mind and word. I’ll imagine this place as my home and future, and plan how to make the world in agreement with my imagination and ideals. I will finish this chapter, and first draft, and I will begin to edit something from the slush-pile. Get your words! Build rockets to shove up Hiter’s ass! Salute! America.