Heeeeere's Johnny
...And so what is it, exactly, that makes me, my words, my expressioms and essentially my being so forgettable?
* * *
"Don't click. Don't read that - you're just going to upset yourself..."
I clinched onto my laundry bag and backpack and held up a single vertical blind in wait for Domenick to arrive so I could head back for Tampa for the week. I never thought I'd be so anxious to leave home and get back to Tampa, so I could be alone. No sunsets or long walks on the beach - I just want a quiet night alone in my room and to sleep as long as I can.
"Are you alright?" My mother asked me. I snapped back into the present.
"Yes...yeah, it's nothing. I'm fine," I tried my best conceal any insecuirty in my inflection.
"You just seem real tense..."
The perscription bottle says I should only take 1/2 a tablet, but for this occasion I took a whole Xanax just so I could have a fighting chance in sleeping tonight. I haven't been taking naps lately (no time), yet at night I can't make myself tired. I think I'm waiting for God to come through my window, maybe as a beam of light or a ladybug crawling on the dusty edges of the notch in my wall that hosts the window. I want him to tell me that yes, he exists, but it's alright if I choose not to believe. To say "you're doing alright, kid. Don't worry so much." because I think, if anyone, I could take his word for it.
Instead, my imagination wanders, coming up with stories like that, wondering, for all things that didn't happen to me this day: What could have been?
I saw the bright lights of Domenick's car pull up in the driveway through the window on the front door. I quickly grabbed my things and rushed out.
"I'm leaving..." I must have mumbled this.
"I thought Domenick was coming inside?"
And, in the first truly honest thing I told my mother since I got back from work, I said in a rather dyspeptic tone; "I really just want to go right now..."
"Have a good week."
* * *
A word about Johhny Carson:
I had been hoping he'd stay around longer for that chance he may again decide to entertain America once more. He was a very private person, and had no intentions of coming back, though he was one of those people I truly admired as a kid and had always wanted to emulate. In elementary school, while my classmates all had fantasies of being the next Michael Jordan or whatever rock star was popular at the time, I wanted to be exactly like Johnny Carson - and then David Letterman, Conan O'Brien, and so on. I have a multiple disc set of his very best shows and if you watch them I think you'd be able to appreciate his sense of humor even in his older shows from the 60s.
That's all.
Alex
PS - Pfleegor, send me any offensive Carson-dead jokes you come across!
* * *
"Don't click. Don't read that - you're just going to upset yourself..."
I clinched onto my laundry bag and backpack and held up a single vertical blind in wait for Domenick to arrive so I could head back for Tampa for the week. I never thought I'd be so anxious to leave home and get back to Tampa, so I could be alone. No sunsets or long walks on the beach - I just want a quiet night alone in my room and to sleep as long as I can.
"Are you alright?" My mother asked me. I snapped back into the present.
"Yes...yeah, it's nothing. I'm fine," I tried my best conceal any insecuirty in my inflection.
"You just seem real tense..."
The perscription bottle says I should only take 1/2 a tablet, but for this occasion I took a whole Xanax just so I could have a fighting chance in sleeping tonight. I haven't been taking naps lately (no time), yet at night I can't make myself tired. I think I'm waiting for God to come through my window, maybe as a beam of light or a ladybug crawling on the dusty edges of the notch in my wall that hosts the window. I want him to tell me that yes, he exists, but it's alright if I choose not to believe. To say "you're doing alright, kid. Don't worry so much." because I think, if anyone, I could take his word for it.
Instead, my imagination wanders, coming up with stories like that, wondering, for all things that didn't happen to me this day: What could have been?
I saw the bright lights of Domenick's car pull up in the driveway through the window on the front door. I quickly grabbed my things and rushed out.
"I'm leaving..." I must have mumbled this.
"I thought Domenick was coming inside?"
And, in the first truly honest thing I told my mother since I got back from work, I said in a rather dyspeptic tone; "I really just want to go right now..."
"Have a good week."
* * *
A word about Johhny Carson:
I had been hoping he'd stay around longer for that chance he may again decide to entertain America once more. He was a very private person, and had no intentions of coming back, though he was one of those people I truly admired as a kid and had always wanted to emulate. In elementary school, while my classmates all had fantasies of being the next Michael Jordan or whatever rock star was popular at the time, I wanted to be exactly like Johnny Carson - and then David Letterman, Conan O'Brien, and so on. I have a multiple disc set of his very best shows and if you watch them I think you'd be able to appreciate his sense of humor even in his older shows from the 60s.
That's all.
Alex
PS - Pfleegor, send me any offensive Carson-dead jokes you come across!