I Spoke Too Much Today Because I Haven’t Been Speaking Much
So, I’ve been hiding out in a puddle of night sweats and satisfying episodes of Power and other TV shows that Netflix mandates or that Instagram allows access with the click of an anti-social gesture.
Yes, I have been living through the collections of make-believe.
Half of it is purposely strewn together for the pleasure of a timed portal, the other large piece is a construct with edges that never cut deep enough to convince me that I am internalizing a well-documented landscape of events — that are energetic in delivery and conceived from the folks that revel in proving their worth beyond my quiet understanding.
I started a new job.
Yes! I am employed again — but just for a little while. I previously quit an assignment that most would save but I was twenty years too late. This new opportunity came out of a desperate need to be desperate. They really like me a lot and I like them.
We sell catheters. We help people who need this particular product feel good about needing to pee without feeling like they are being set on fire without the instinct to scream.
I was ridiculously early on my first day. I miscalculated how close I was to my temporary shell of monetary privilege. I entered Starbucks and soaked in the comfort of a deliciously regular coffee that tasted amazingly good after weathering the storm of the year. Trust me to be dressed for success — only to be stuck in a typhoon while I wait for the bus to arrive on time.
After pretending that Morris Chestnut wasn’t Morris Chestnut while placing my order and cursing my gray temples — I took a seat and talked about Morris Chestnut to my friend in New York who loves Morris Chestnut.
Minutes later — I was stationed at my cubicle going through a mountain of materials that depicted the reality that most endure but very few can imagine. It felt good to be in the midst of a work cycle. The familiar renderings took hold and instead of annoying me — they gave me a warm feeling that physically delighted me.
I was convinced that the pangs of a suspected hot flash — visiting before my time wasn’t the case. This time it was the flush of feeling valued — the excitement of watching these women speak to me enthusiastically as I pay attention without feeling the threat of an Oscar nomination.
They knew I was the one from the very start. They were delighted with all my answers during the interview session and they expect me to stay past the stipulated time in my head.
I am torn and honored — but I have to figure this out.
In the meantime — being around humans who give more than a shit about what I have to say while I’m sober has made me soberly alert. It’s so gratifying to realize that I am still capable to captivate with my tales of the past, present and a future that may not include them.
I was supposed to clock out an hour ago — but here I am talking a mile a minute.
The words pour out with the emphatic tone of someone who is either really lonely or incredibly sheltered from daily interactions. They listen with keen interest and I keep going. It’s time for me to laugh off my overdue exit — but still — I go on.
I go on and on and on. The New York apartment that I can’t stop epitomizing. The gaudiness of being a scorned New Yorker who finally left after enjoying a sliver of being a fake New Yorker.
And everything in between — without the benefit of an alarm that rings loud enough to save the shit that spills into a stink that reeks after you take the final bow.
I know they were entertained because eyes never lie. But, I was more exhausted than they were when I left the building.
I haven’t spoken like that in months and they paid the price. Lately, I have been silent and guarded and unlike myself.
Today, I went to work and clocked out feeling human. Funny, how life works out.
I hope I never stop talking liking a maniac — even if timecards require my registration.
There are just never enough hours…