Drunken Sailor

I don't know what I'm doing any longer.  Life is full.  Life is busy.  Everything happens at once so that I lose myself in it.  I schedule more than I can bear.  I had a shoot on Friday night, a spectacular thing of which I will one day speak.  Afterwards, I had dinner with a friend and didn't get to bed until three.  Morning came harshly and I needed purging, so I didn't eat all day.  I managed the gym, and even shopping for a cheap phone.  And while driving, I heard this song on the Country Club College radio station.  Jesus, it was almost like being in California again.  The song seemed an anthem to the day, to me and my terribly recent life.

I learn no lessons, though.  I have made plans to shoot tomorrow morning and again Monday night.  Oh, you say, you are a person who can complain about getting what he wants.  You will complain about anything.  But I must work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights and I'll be dead tired when I shoot again Friday night.  I'm certain I'll make a date for Saturday, too.  

Tonight I sit at home alone. . . and I feel it.  "What?" I ask myself.  "Suddenly you do not want to be by yourself?"  Well, I think, I've gotten used to company.  My personal attractiveness quotient has changed a bit the last few days, and I've liked it.  I've begun to remember some of what that is like.  

But I know what comes too quickly next, and when I should be content, I'm terrified.  Yup.  That is me. . . watching the hour glass emptying.  

My mother has gone away on a trip to Niagara.  Don't ask.  I couldn't tell you.  She went on a bus with some friends.  An AARP trip, I think.  She will be gone almost two weeks.  

Tonight, though, I think I could use a little quiet company.