November 11, 2021
The ennui started arriving a few days ago. I don't know exactly what started it, but I suspect it is stemming from the slight miff-up with my brother this past Sunday. I will have to weather his bullshit storm better next time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to shut him up quickly.
He has tactics, as I suppose anyone does, for dealing with situations he finds himself in. He made the mistake, on Sunday, of falling back into what I call "office manner," (as opposed to say, bedside manner) where he falls into simple mannerisms and short phrases he uses in the office settings he finds himself in on a daily basis.
The mistake he made on Sunday was in trying to belittle me in front of our father, telling a story he has used before about a co-worker in his distant past that could only do one thing, was bull-headed, etc.
So at the sign of that I just go into feigned indignation and blow things up beyond any recogition of where anyone in the room was, on any page or book. Random names thrown out, false accusations, anything. It leaves people dumbfounded and works, so I use it. Now he's changed his telephone number.
But the feeling of listlessness had begun to set in then, on Sunday. I've been trying to resolve it, but maybe it just has to work its way through.
Went to walmart around 715p, which is always interesting. This town shuts down early.
There are no stores open after 11p except for some gas stations and then things like waffle horse. 200k people and this is what we have.
Walmart is already a strange bag, but this particular one is right across the street/highway from a new hospital, and its shelves reflect as much. I can drive 5 miles down the road to a larger walmart and not find the same healthy things. Night and day, sometimes.
I wanted some cheese tonight, though. Cheese, chips, chocolate, etc. Feeling wrank.
I went down the first aisle past produce, which is the cheese and such aisle. There were maybe three single guys already on the aisle and one taut woman that was buying something along the far right wall selections. The guys were in their late 40's/early 50's, and she seemed like she was in her mid-50's, but she was on point, so to speak. Taut, tight, fit, whatever. The others trailed back like the dogs they were. I milled past them all, headed towards the pre-sliced stuff that's stuffed into the left-sided bunkers. Picked my cheese, went to the bottled water aisle, but she didn't follow. I don't know if I was expecting her to or what.
She found me on the chip aisle next, and I can only wonder what was going on in her mind. Did she feel safer, away from the dogs that were following her, able to catch her breath? I didn't pay attention to what she was buying and went about my business, trying not to check out her exercise-toned calves. I have made an art form out of this kind of surreptiousness (is that a word?)
Of course women notice, though. How can one not when they are hawked at from the second they are born into this world?
So eventually I had to pass her, and she was coming my way. No way to avoid it, so I just looked into her eyes. She was wearing glasses, though, so it was hard to tell what was going on there. I was wearing a black mask, so I guess we were even.
I could only smile, starting with my eyes, and that spread to my mouth, which was covered.
I wonder what she thought later. I have no game beyond looking sly and acting coy. No one-liners or such. I hate that kind of thing to begin with.
But I imagined too much when I was alone again. Wondering how things happen between two strangers, and how they happened with me before, and how at this age I want nothing to do with any kind of relationship unless it is something near-cosmic.
I just can't. I still think about Sandra nearly every day, and she has been dead for over ten years. Knowing how I wasn't "there" in her time of need...that hurts too much. But I also wonder, if I had been 100% in control of my mind and faculties - how would things have been any different? Would they? Would she have changed? Would I?
My sense of time is different than most people's. I suspect it is because I dwell on the past so much, but in my defense, that is all I had to think about when I was a child - some nebulous time when things weren't all bad, as they frequently seemed to be, as a child.
But even now, with Marie, it has been over 6 years since we broke up, over ten years when we first met, and it seems like yesterday. I just don't move on at the same pace. I like it that way.