TOO MUCH T.V.
I’m here, but I don’t have anything to comment on. I’m not depressed, mad, confused, horny, or anything else that would pass for a muse nowadays. I’m feeling pretty damn good, despite the eerie feeling of doom looming over my head. Like something is just waiting to fall and crack my skull open. I’m being very careful about what I say and write because I know all it takes is one word of satisfaction and it’s all over. But, I find no harm in saying that, at this moment, I’m feeling pretty good.
JG wrote me yesterday after spanning the globe, doing what young people do and old people wish they did. I must admit it felt good reading her email. What is it about a woman that can make a man feel special? Just seeing the sentence: “You are so sweet” had me giddy all day. She sent some cool pictures from her travels, but the only ones I really paid attention to have her in them. God, I’m terrible. I’m two months shy of my ten-year anniversary and here I am thinking about banging a girl almost ten years younger than me.
The longer I live, the more confusing life becomes. Just when you think you know the answers, something happens to disprove whatever theory you’ve concocted to get from today to tomorrow. You get married and are convinced that woman is the only one you’ll ever find attractive. Then, you’ll see another woman who may not even look as good as your wife, but something about her just clicks and you can’t stop the fantasies. Next, you’re jacking off with her picture in your head. Then, a few years pass; you get older and you think you’ve solved the problem. But no, some other woman comes along and you’re right back where you started, with your dick in your hand and some unattainable femme fatale on your mind. If you’re lucky enough to make it to ten, you think you’ve finally found the answer. One woman can be every woman, but sure enough here comes someone who defies that rule again. There’s no way your wife can be her, and dammit, you want her. So, you figure it’s all about the old and the new. After you’ve been with one woman for so long you just figure its boredom. How long has it been since your wife smelled of perfume? Wore cosmetics? How long since she dressed young and vibrant, showing off her body? (Uh, just about two weeks ago) With age comes limitations and you take some comfort in that. It’s only natural for you to want something new, young, fresh and clean, right? Then you go home, ready to settle in your humdrum life, and there you are sitting in your daddy chair, looking at your woman sprawled out on the floor watching television. She’s wearing old jeans that are too small because dinner was too big. Her black t-shirt is so faded its gray in some areas and white in others. You look at her just laying there, doing nothing, and then you’re hit with an impulse and say: “I’m gonna f- you tonight.”
She looks at you funny, “Uh…okay. And what about the kids?”
“I’m not going to do it now. I just want you to know, sometime tonight, I’m gonna f- you.”
“Okay.” And she puts her head back down.
Just like that. Of course, the night comes and goes, you’re tired, she’s asleep, snuggling between two children and you’re just lucky to find a place at the foot of the bed like the family dog. But, that’s not the point. Just when you thought you knew the score, life changes things on you. And, out of the blue, your wife becomes hotter than any twenty year old. The polarities switch and what you can’t have reminds you of what you do. What incentive is there to get married? The freedom to walk up to a woman and grab her breast, ass, or crotch saying, “Let’s fuck” without getting slapped, kicked, or charged with sexual harassment and assault.
What do you do?
What can you do?
Just go with whatever life brings you.
But, what about the repercussions? Should we forget the lesson learned from Risky Business (1983)? Sometimes, going with the flow and pissing in the wind leaves you with wet pants. How do you balance it out?
I don’t know.
I’ve been looking at women’s cleavage a lot lately. That, or more women are flashing their shit this summer, and they all have freckles. But, if you look hard and long enough, it’s almost like you’re seeing the whole breast. Especially if it jiggles, it’s not really leaving much to the imagination.
I’ve never been with a Hispanic woman and that still bothers me.
Nip/Tuck is a little over a month away and I can’t wait to see what happens to Christian.
I’ve gotten in the habit of relying on “the next big thing” to get me through life, otherwise I could be dead and not really care. I remember the first time I saw the trailer for The Matrix. I went home begging God to keep me alive long enough to see it. Then, after it opened, I couldn’t give shit what happened to me. I think I’m still recouping from the Lord of the Rings being over. Three years spent looking forward to Christmas, just so I could see a movie. Last year, my wife and I really didn’t know what to do with ourselves, LOTR had quickly become our tradition and we were really bothered that we didn’t have another “big thing” waiting for us. Yeah, we had the DVDs, but it’s not the same as reserving tickets at a theater and seeing it there on the big screen. This year the “big thing” was Batman, but now that’s gone and I feel blah about everything. I’m hoping the new fall television season will give me reason to live.
My God… I feel like Al Bundy after realizing how pathetic his life has become. I’m looking for television to give me a reason why I should keep breathing. I can’t remember when I became so dependant on television. I think when I was younger, say around eleven, and my mother would leave me alone, I watched a lot of television and there was something soothing about it. Even now, I get that feeling when I see reruns of Good Times and I Love Lucy. I’m starting to see how these shows affected me. They taught me how to live and act. Probably one of the reasons I adapt so well to my wife’s quirky behavior is because I watched I Loved Lucy every day for years and thought she was so cute. The first month of our marriage, my wife burned a whole in the living room floor because she was ironing her dress on the carpet. I swear I felt like Ricky at that moment, listening to my wife explaining what happened with that little hint of newlywed fear. And it changes, just like switching a channel. When we’re lazy and poor, we’re Rosie and Dan Connor. When I’m feeling exceptionally parental I’m Andy Taylor. When my wife and I are being parental, but cute and enjoying our marriage we’re the Huxtables. Many times she’ll do or say something and I’ll just look at her like Ricky, Cliff, or Al, then I’ll look at the imaginary audience and play a laugh track in my head. My friends are an assortment of co-stars, from Grady to Fred. Some are Barney, others are Cool Breeze, Poppo, and Head.
The one television show that I loved and closely mirrors my marriage is Mad About You. Some things my wife and I go through are right out of that show. I remember once, during a particular tough time in our relationship, my wife asked if I saw us growing old together, and I said yes because Paul and Helen stayed together on the show. She said they didn’t, they eventually got a divorce in the last episode. But, I reminded her that near the end, in the last ten minutes, after spending some years apart, they were still in love and reconciled. Sometimes I feel like my wife and I are destined to split. But, we’ll still love one another and reconcile. I think we’re too curious about divorce and what it would be like not to try it out. But I know we’d get back together, just like Ross and Rachel on Friends. But, I don’t want to tempt fate, because just when you think you know what will happen, life changes, just like on television. Dillon and Kelly never worked things out in Beverly Hills. They were meant for one another, but couldn’t make it work. So, you never know.
I better get out of here; Rescue Me is on tonight and love Denise Leary. See, just when I think there’s nothing to look forward to, I found something. That should keep me going for another five hours and twelve minutes.
JPG.
JG wrote me yesterday after spanning the globe, doing what young people do and old people wish they did. I must admit it felt good reading her email. What is it about a woman that can make a man feel special? Just seeing the sentence: “You are so sweet” had me giddy all day. She sent some cool pictures from her travels, but the only ones I really paid attention to have her in them. God, I’m terrible. I’m two months shy of my ten-year anniversary and here I am thinking about banging a girl almost ten years younger than me.
The longer I live, the more confusing life becomes. Just when you think you know the answers, something happens to disprove whatever theory you’ve concocted to get from today to tomorrow. You get married and are convinced that woman is the only one you’ll ever find attractive. Then, you’ll see another woman who may not even look as good as your wife, but something about her just clicks and you can’t stop the fantasies. Next, you’re jacking off with her picture in your head. Then, a few years pass; you get older and you think you’ve solved the problem. But no, some other woman comes along and you’re right back where you started, with your dick in your hand and some unattainable femme fatale on your mind. If you’re lucky enough to make it to ten, you think you’ve finally found the answer. One woman can be every woman, but sure enough here comes someone who defies that rule again. There’s no way your wife can be her, and dammit, you want her. So, you figure it’s all about the old and the new. After you’ve been with one woman for so long you just figure its boredom. How long has it been since your wife smelled of perfume? Wore cosmetics? How long since she dressed young and vibrant, showing off her body? (Uh, just about two weeks ago) With age comes limitations and you take some comfort in that. It’s only natural for you to want something new, young, fresh and clean, right? Then you go home, ready to settle in your humdrum life, and there you are sitting in your daddy chair, looking at your woman sprawled out on the floor watching television. She’s wearing old jeans that are too small because dinner was too big. Her black t-shirt is so faded its gray in some areas and white in others. You look at her just laying there, doing nothing, and then you’re hit with an impulse and say: “I’m gonna f- you tonight.”
She looks at you funny, “Uh…okay. And what about the kids?”
“I’m not going to do it now. I just want you to know, sometime tonight, I’m gonna f- you.”
“Okay.” And she puts her head back down.
Just like that. Of course, the night comes and goes, you’re tired, she’s asleep, snuggling between two children and you’re just lucky to find a place at the foot of the bed like the family dog. But, that’s not the point. Just when you thought you knew the score, life changes things on you. And, out of the blue, your wife becomes hotter than any twenty year old. The polarities switch and what you can’t have reminds you of what you do. What incentive is there to get married? The freedom to walk up to a woman and grab her breast, ass, or crotch saying, “Let’s fuck” without getting slapped, kicked, or charged with sexual harassment and assault.
What do you do?
What can you do?
Just go with whatever life brings you.
But, what about the repercussions? Should we forget the lesson learned from Risky Business (1983)? Sometimes, going with the flow and pissing in the wind leaves you with wet pants. How do you balance it out?
I don’t know.
I’ve been looking at women’s cleavage a lot lately. That, or more women are flashing their shit this summer, and they all have freckles. But, if you look hard and long enough, it’s almost like you’re seeing the whole breast. Especially if it jiggles, it’s not really leaving much to the imagination.
I’ve never been with a Hispanic woman and that still bothers me.
Nip/Tuck is a little over a month away and I can’t wait to see what happens to Christian.
I’ve gotten in the habit of relying on “the next big thing” to get me through life, otherwise I could be dead and not really care. I remember the first time I saw the trailer for The Matrix. I went home begging God to keep me alive long enough to see it. Then, after it opened, I couldn’t give shit what happened to me. I think I’m still recouping from the Lord of the Rings being over. Three years spent looking forward to Christmas, just so I could see a movie. Last year, my wife and I really didn’t know what to do with ourselves, LOTR had quickly become our tradition and we were really bothered that we didn’t have another “big thing” waiting for us. Yeah, we had the DVDs, but it’s not the same as reserving tickets at a theater and seeing it there on the big screen. This year the “big thing” was Batman, but now that’s gone and I feel blah about everything. I’m hoping the new fall television season will give me reason to live.
My God… I feel like Al Bundy after realizing how pathetic his life has become. I’m looking for television to give me a reason why I should keep breathing. I can’t remember when I became so dependant on television. I think when I was younger, say around eleven, and my mother would leave me alone, I watched a lot of television and there was something soothing about it. Even now, I get that feeling when I see reruns of Good Times and I Love Lucy. I’m starting to see how these shows affected me. They taught me how to live and act. Probably one of the reasons I adapt so well to my wife’s quirky behavior is because I watched I Loved Lucy every day for years and thought she was so cute. The first month of our marriage, my wife burned a whole in the living room floor because she was ironing her dress on the carpet. I swear I felt like Ricky at that moment, listening to my wife explaining what happened with that little hint of newlywed fear. And it changes, just like switching a channel. When we’re lazy and poor, we’re Rosie and Dan Connor. When I’m feeling exceptionally parental I’m Andy Taylor. When my wife and I are being parental, but cute and enjoying our marriage we’re the Huxtables. Many times she’ll do or say something and I’ll just look at her like Ricky, Cliff, or Al, then I’ll look at the imaginary audience and play a laugh track in my head. My friends are an assortment of co-stars, from Grady to Fred. Some are Barney, others are Cool Breeze, Poppo, and Head.
The one television show that I loved and closely mirrors my marriage is Mad About You. Some things my wife and I go through are right out of that show. I remember once, during a particular tough time in our relationship, my wife asked if I saw us growing old together, and I said yes because Paul and Helen stayed together on the show. She said they didn’t, they eventually got a divorce in the last episode. But, I reminded her that near the end, in the last ten minutes, after spending some years apart, they were still in love and reconciled. Sometimes I feel like my wife and I are destined to split. But, we’ll still love one another and reconcile. I think we’re too curious about divorce and what it would be like not to try it out. But I know we’d get back together, just like Ross and Rachel on Friends. But, I don’t want to tempt fate, because just when you think you know what will happen, life changes, just like on television. Dillon and Kelly never worked things out in Beverly Hills. They were meant for one another, but couldn’t make it work. So, you never know.
I better get out of here; Rescue Me is on tonight and love Denise Leary. See, just when I think there’s nothing to look forward to, I found something. That should keep me going for another five hours and twelve minutes.
JPG.
posted by QABBAL at 6:15 PM
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