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i was bred to be a creature of the night. sure, there were curfews on school nights, but the weekends... well, it was "stay up 'til you drop." that's pretty much what the adults did. they had staying power... bourbon-fortified. so, Sunday mornings tended to be short... really, the afternoon became the alternative. freakish, now... since i've been up since before eight. the Speckled Beast has seen to that, just like yesterday, and the day before. we are no longer chums. rescued animals. they exhibit unpleasant traits when their routine changes. like bad kids, they need constant input from authority figures... and i'm afraid my efforts aren't enough. next time Yoko splits for another weekend, she's gonna take this thing with her. the good thing... being up early enough to have the old school gospel show on the alt radio. agnostic i may be... but Sunday morning just isn't right without some churchical rhythms. amazingly, moms refrained from her ususal bi-polar swings for the holiday. pleasant, friendly, sober... not the historical pattern, which is good. our visit on the Eve left a positive memory. then, on to Slick Willie's party... our yearly gift-exchange/Bacchanal. the usual suspects were there, including the LittleGeneral, the Contessa, VeggieJohn... with the addition of BikerJohn and the LiveWire, his moll. i have known many variations of this type of woman... a coke-and-wine fired nonstop conversationalist, reminding you of a broken electrical wire: unpredictably leaping from place-to-place, bursting in a shower of sparks wherever it lands. oh, yeah. this night was gonna hurt. it became my mission to do damage to the contents of the mini-keg, which i performed admirably. the atmosphere: whirlwinds of activity, clustering and unclustering pockets of topics. and last, it did, until four-thirty in the morning. what i didn't know, was that Yoko had planned for an extra-early departure for her daughter's in the morning (she saves these rare bits of information long after they were asked about). a trait she has passed along to her offspring is the inability to say what they mean: her ex (who fathered her second child when they were divorced) demanded his son just after noon, and she didn't argue. so Yoko had to get there early. an hour away from here. this is the kind of drama that keeps me away, and promises to be the theme of the day... every day. i don't hate her, and her kids, i love... but it's hard to embrace the situation. but i'd determined to get there. ouch. two hours of sleep. upon awakening, Yoko was packing... unexpectedly. rather than waiting until the weekend, she was planning to spend the next four days with them. another little delayed tidbit. this meant that i had to drive solo. get some cash, find a gas station. and drive with my eyes straight ahead... if i turned my head, the steering wheel would follow. so the day began. and was pleasant enough, though there was the underscore of ex-in-laws-this, ex-in-laws-that. the usual disappearing act of my wife to her daughter's side. incommunicado, which i suppose is her wish. enter, the Ex. he departs. enter the Ex-in-laws. they depart. comes eight in the evening, it's my turn. hey, i assume someone has to feed the cat. and keep the pipes from freezing. the last half-hour of the trip was a killer... dimming eyesight, wandering consciousness, despite the radio and the opened window. i considered kissing the ground when i switched off the ignition, once stopped in the driveway. waiting for me, two messages on the machine. Biggles, for one... who we couldn't connect with before he drove his wife and son to the airport for their trip to London, and his parents. inviting me to stop by, next day. the second: my alternate on the radio... staying in Richmond, and "could you do the show for me, for the next couple of weeks?" wide-awake, now. suddenly, i have a program to slam together. thank the gods for the staying power. |
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