Nocturne

There is a Bill Cosbey routine somewhere that goes: “Na na na na na na NA... Na na na na na na NA (imitating the dramatic music from some horror movie), No (he says, reassuring the audience) I always have my music with me, I have to have my music with me, it keeps the monsters away...”

Have I been keeping my music with me?

My belly feels swollen, and I blame the lack of exercise because it is easier than blaming my bad diet. Somehow knowing this doesn’t help, and I am rather ruthless with myself. “Slim down!” my mind commands, as if thinking the very thought will somehow spontaneously create the action.

I pensively await the outcome of my job interview. “So and So didn’t look me in the eye while they were talking with me, so clearly that means that they know I am not going to get the job.” My mind is f**kin* with me. Gorramit! I need my mind to settle down and be quiet! “You are supposed to be on my side!” I yell at it. I think I hear my mind chuckling a reply.

Sometimes in the the dead of night I will wake up and think “Why is J. sleeping WAY over there?” It is an unfair thought to be sure and I am ashamed for having it as soon as it pops into my mind… and yet, somehow, I cannot shake it. I am left wide awake at four o’clock in the morning yelling at myself “Gorramit, Gorramit, Gorramit! Will you please stop?” I think I hear my mind laughing again.

I turn on the TV. Nothing is on. PBS is airing a special on the evolution of late night television. I savor the irony and learn the origins of Jack Parr, Johnny Carson, Regis Philburn and many more. The outtakes are hilariously funny.

Johhny Carson reading from a newspaper “wanted: woman with a flooded rumpus room seekin man with a sump pump.”

It is dirty. Funny. It feels wrong. I laugh and yet, I hate this man. I want to go to sleep. I feel so conflicted. I turn off the TV and sigh. I am laying there not five minute when S. comes wandering into the room. She tries to lay down beside me but I don’t budge. She examines the couch for a moment and then decides to crawl over me. Reluctantly I slide over. “Good night honey.” I whisper. I lay there maybe another five minutes and get up and begin prowling the house like an old Tom cat.

“Na na na na na na NA” goes the soundtrack in my head. I need to keep the monsters at bay…