I glance over at the stack of paperwork on my side desk, and then back to my monitor where I have a rousing game of Mah Jhong in progress. I contemplate closing the game and actually doing something productive. Something involving that stack of paperwork.
Instead I reach for two Vicodin that I have left over from my appendectomy and I pop them into my mouth. The dry capsules fuse to my wet tongue as the coating begins to dissolve, but I quickly wash them down my throat with yet another can of Michelob Ultra that I take from the freezer section of the mini-fridge that sits next to my desk. The ice-cold liquid burns my throat as it goes down. I look at my desk and count six empty cans, all lined up in a nice, tidy row.
Instead I reach for two Vicodin that I have left over from my appendectomy and I pop them into my mouth. The dry capsules fuse to my wet tongue as the coating begins to dissolve, but I quickly wash them down my throat with yet another can of Michelob Ultra that I take from the freezer section of the mini-fridge that sits next to my desk. The ice-cold liquid burns my throat as it goes down. I look at my desk and count six empty cans, all lined up in a nice, tidy row.
I take the Vicodin to numb the pain, but not the sharp pain of surgery. I hope, vainly, that along with the beer it will help numb the constant dull emotional pain that is the foundation of my life these days. No matter where I go or what I do, I walk upon this foundation of pain with every step. I can’t seem to escape it.
I close the game anyway because I’m bored. I surf a few websites and check my e-mail, and then I get up and use the bathroom. On the way back I walk over to my closet and take out my electric guitar. The guitar is very nice, and it cost me almost $2,000 when I bought it brand new. These days it just collects dust in the closet. I set the case on my bed, popping it open and taking the guitar out. I sit on the edge of the bed and strum a few chords, and then I play some blues. Four minutes later the guitar goes back in the case and the case returns to the closet.
I close the game anyway because I’m bored. I surf a few websites and check my e-mail, and then I get up and use the bathroom. On the way back I walk over to my closet and take out my electric guitar. The guitar is very nice, and it cost me almost $2,000 when I bought it brand new. These days it just collects dust in the closet. I set the case on my bed, popping it open and taking the guitar out. I sit on the edge of the bed and strum a few chords, and then I play some blues. Four minutes later the guitar goes back in the case and the case returns to the closet.
I head towards the computer to do some more surfing, but then I remember the laundry that I have in the dryer. It probably needs another cycle so I walk down the hallway, past the kitchen and the living room, to the TV room and the laundry closet. My feet drag the carpet as I go, making the only sound to be heard in my quiet apartment. I turn on the light and walk into the large closet. I spin the dryer knob and press the button, and then I leave the closet and close the door behind me. I flick off the light and turn around.
The remote for the television is sitting on the arm of a chair right next to where I’m standing. On a whim I pick it up and turn the TV on. I walk over and flop on the couch.
The remote for the television is sitting on the arm of a chair right next to where I’m standing. On a whim I pick it up and turn the TV on. I walk over and flop on the couch.
As I bury my bare feet under the folds of an Afghan blanket that is bunched up on the other end of the couch I see the blue uniform of Mr. Spock on my TV screen. An episode of the classic Star Trek series has just begun, and I let the remote drop to the floor as I lie back on the couch and rest my head on the armrest. I reach down and pull the Afghan up to cover my bare legs.
It seems that the Enterprise has picked up a band of intergalactic “hippies” who are on a quest in search of the mythical planet of Eden. But Captain Kirk has orders to take them to the nearest starbase, so you can already see the conflict beginning to arise when the hippies insist that he take them to Eden instead. I sense an attempt to take over the Enterprise in the near future. In fact, I can guarantee it.
One commercial break later I find out that Spock has a certain amount of sympathy for the hippies; himself no stranger to feeling like an outsider in his chosen career on the human-dominated Enterprise. At one point he decides to join their impromptu jam session of love and harmony, playing an odd Vulcan instrument that somewhat resembles a harp. I feel a smile slowly creep across my face as I listen to the dated lyrics that they sing. There can be no doubt that this show was created in the late 1960’s.
One commercial break later I find out that Spock has a certain amount of sympathy for the hippies; himself no stranger to feeling like an outsider in his chosen career on the human-dominated Enterprise. At one point he decides to join their impromptu jam session of love and harmony, playing an odd Vulcan instrument that somewhat resembles a harp. I feel a smile slowly creep across my face as I listen to the dated lyrics that they sing. There can be no doubt that this show was created in the late 1960’s.
In my mind I wonder if Spock will join the hippies - before coming to his senses, of course.
The pills and the beer begin to give me a comfortable feeling, and the colors of the various Star Trek uniforms become more vivid with each passing moment. I find Mr. Spock’s monotone voice soothing. His dialogue lulls my mind to sleep, and my body soon follows.
The pills and the beer begin to give me a comfortable feeling, and the colors of the various Star Trek uniforms become more vivid with each passing moment. I find Mr. Spock’s monotone voice soothing. His dialogue lulls my mind to sleep, and my body soon follows.
When I wake up the show is over, and an episode of Little House On The Prairie is on instead. I guess I’ll never know the final fate of the Intergalactic Hippies. I notice the sunlight peeking in through the blinds on the window. Looking at the clock I decide that it is time to go to bed. I shut the TV off and walk back down the hallway to my bedroom. I’ll take the clothes out of the dryer when I wake up.
Everything there is just as I left it. I turn the computer off, turn off all the lights but the reading light next to my bed, and then crawl under the covers. I lie there on my back for a moment with my hands under my head, my elbows splayed out to the side.
Everything there is just as I left it. I turn the computer off, turn off all the lights but the reading light next to my bed, and then crawl under the covers. I lie there on my back for a moment with my hands under my head, my elbows splayed out to the side.
I know that things will change soon. They have to change soon.
I wonder when?
I wonder when?
I reach over and turn off the light.
