What the hell is this? Of late, whenever I try to talk about something that I think is important, if I don’t get to it within 5 minutes or so, it’s gone: I have no recollection of what I’m going to say. Oh, sure, maybe I’ll remember in another 5 minutes–or 5 hours. It depends how the day is going . . . like, if I’m trying to remember something else.
I was out with friends Saturday night and the discussion turned to things from our past. Since everyone at the table were in the early 30′s, I was able to rock memory lane a lot harder–but, of course, at one point I moved and let out a little yelp, and when I was asked what was the matter, I automatically replied, “I’m getting old”. Yeah, 54 a couple of weeks ago, and it’s not looking good. Not at all.
Shit hurts, particularly in my lower back and left hip. The memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. I’m back to not getting a lot of sleep, maybe 5 hours a night–though last night I was passing out at 11 PM and had to roll off to the sack. At least I don’t have a lot of stress in my life–yet. Yeah, that’ll be along this summer if the job market doesn’t show me some good lovin’.
I guess it wouldn’t be that bad if I’d felt like I’d spent the better part of my life enjoying it, but that’s not the case. Mine has been a wasted life, and it’s something I’ll never recapture. No one’s fault but mine, so if I want to crawl off and guilt trip myself, then I have to spend some time looking in the mirror going, “Remember when–?” Of course, the upside to that is maybe one day I won’t even remember the bad times . . . hey, isn’t that great?
There is always the possibility that I’ll pull out of this tailspin and recover, get into a good grove and spend the next 10 or 15 or 20 years enjoying myself. All I ask is that I not only have good memories, but that I can remember them.
Trying to recall that I was going to tell someone about a marathon runner dying is a pain in ass.