I shall die at 90 years old. How can I be certain? Because upon turning 45, I went into a full blown midlife crisis. My biggest fear has always been not living up to my potential, which has come to full fruition. I know I’m not dead yet and you can argue there’s still time…My counter argument, “Yeah, I’ve got the time, but I ain’t got the energy.” I am tired of the hustle…the six-month goal setting…the schedules that I make for myself and never keep…the book rankings and reviews that I’m scrambling for with no results…the weight I vow to lose but never do…the drawers I organize only to find back in complete disarray the next day.
I just want to be happy for a while without it having anything to do with word count or blog traffic or calories.
I thought when I moved to the lake, I’d be out of the rat race. But, were you aware that rat’s can swim? It’s been even worse here, because I have the time and the space and therefore NO excuse for not writing, working out, networking, blogging daily, and mastering the art of canning or some other hipster hobby. But, I just haven’t fucking felt like it.
And life down here is hard, people. Just walking the dogs to the shore to shit is a thirty minute ordeal. I can’t leave the dock to go into town without first spending two hours battening down the hatches, locking up the valuables, turning off the water and disconnecting anything else that could sink the boat, and hauling trash/laundry across Spider Alley. I have to drive 5 miles of treacherous roads just to get a gallon of milk. Every day is a simultaneous combination of solitude, but no privacy. Random fishermen have no problem pulling up within three feet of the boat in the middle of the night and shining their spotlights right into our bedroom. Maybe that’s why Mama needs a nap. And when she wakes up, she will begin her new life as an “I don’t care if I ever write another word, ever fit into an 8, have a clean house, post a status, make a homemade meal, recycle, or learn a skill” kind of bitch.
I am taking a sabbatical from success. I am going to do my best not to give a damn about anything other than existing is some state of copacetic calm. In order to accomplish this, I will study the classic slacker/stoners in movies such as “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure,” “Grandma’s Boy,” “The Big Lebowski,” "Fast Times at Ridgemont High," “Pineapple Express” …in typing this, I just realized than none of the legendary slackers are women. I’d take on the challenge of becoming the first, but that would be an accomplishment, which completely goes against my current sabbatical from success. Anyway, I will watch these movies while lying on the couch and allow myself to absorb their “Got a roof over my head, bong full of herb, and enough cash to get a bag of White Castles, so what’s to worry about?” mentality. And, I am going to learn to enjoy doing nothing in this beautiful place and appreciating a simple life of just tossing cheerios to the ducks, floating on a noodle, reading tragic novels, having lots of sex, and eating cheeseburgers from The Village Inn.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.