Morton Malaise

I will be out of town all next week. We leave Sunday for Chicago, then our plane for the Dominican Republic leaves around 6 AM Monday morning, and we return to Chicago Saturday evening. We will be staying at the Riu Bambu in Punta Cana. I will not have my phone, and I don’t plan on checking my voicemail while I’m gone. Please don’t leave me a cutesy fucking message about hoping I’m having a good time and talking to me when I get back. The last thing I’ll want to do is listen to 9306960 fucking voicemails saying the same thing when I get back to this frozen hell.

The good folks at Deadspin have graced the world with a post about one of the finest hockey fights I’ve ever seen. Any time both goalies leave the crease to fight, it’s gonna be a good one. There were 17 penalties assessed at 5:13 of the period. It’s really worth watching.

Breathe out.
Shove the impetus of the dark week of telephones and politics and annoyance out.
Breathe in.
Suck in the warmth of her sweetness that you can’t ignore. Suck in the wonderment that you can’t deny. Suck in the freedom, the patience, suck in the maybe.
Maybe you’ll get it straight in the dark neon of a Friday night. Maybe you’ll forget the nine-to-five, maybe you’ll forget the reasons you let it go. Maybe you’ll forget the mistrust you’ve learned over all the years.
Breathe out.
Force the disillusion of faith away, make the minor chords of reality force the major chords’ lies away. Dye ‘em black. Your heart can’t go out ’cause its roots are showing.
Breathe in.
Suck in the hydrofluorocarbons, stare at the brown river, feel the cold of winter that 17 years of no winter have left you unadjustable to. Make metaphors and similes and statements of literary and situational irony in your head equating the winter and the life you have with being dead.
Breathe out.
Stuff the non-opiate painkillers down your throat for sleep, live vicariously through people you know five years younger that have “got their shit together”, not because they want to, but because they have to.
Breathe in.
Stare at the bottom of that brown bottle like it has something to say that you haven’t heard before. Stare across that frozen lake like the cold breeze and the stinging white light will clear your mind and make you think of something you didn’t before.
Breathe out.
Go to bed hoping all of these confusing fucking thoughts will go away in the morning when you throw on your dress-pants-and-button-up-collar-shirt uniform and camp your ass in a cubicle farm.
Breathe in.
Lie to yourself.
Breathe out.
Lie to yourself.
Breathe in.
Lie you yourself so much that you believe. Believe everyt’ing gon’ be alright. Smell that salty spray that you miss so much. Drive down Okeechobee Blvd., letting the sunset chase you to the ocean. Drive down A1A, from Manalapan all the way down to Lantana, with that salty spray in your nose and the warmth of a South Florida sunrise bathing your face in dreams you didn’t have because you didn’t sleep. Drive 75 to 24, running from your problems. Florida, then Georgia, then Tennessee, then Alabama, then Tennessee again, then Kentucky, then that long drive through Illinois.
Breathe out.
It’s 2002, and then it’s 2007, not so different from the 2001 that you left behind. But things are different. Friends are real. Friends aren’t the ones you find in a chemical used for couples therapy in the 70’s. They’re people that you love and care about. They’re the brothers you never had, and they all happen to be brothers.
Breathe in.
Let the tears run down your cheek as one of them tries to slip away right in front of you, like two of the best friends you had six years ago did right in your face.
Breathe out.
Speak the words you had no chance to say to the first two. Stand with the two others who can stop this one from going. Pray with all the faith you have left that this one will stop.
Breathe in.

Incoming telephone calls after 10 PM when I have pneumonia will not be accepted. Conditions under which it is OK to call after 10 PM when I have pneumonia include the following:

1.) My apartment is on fire.
2.) I am dying or dead.
3.) A member of my family is dying or dead.
4.) You are dying or dead.
5.) Attack by foreign air or ground forces has put me in imminent danger and you’re bringing over guns and ammunition with which to fight said forces back.
6.) A large object such as an asteroid or comet is going to strike the earth, rendering the human race nonexistent. (This exception does not apply if the object is scheduled to strike the earth after I have to be at work, because the human race being rendered nonexistent is not a valid reason for me to miss work.)
7.) I have won, through good fortune or someone’s death, an amount of money in excess of $5 million.
8.) I have not seen you in more than 5 years and you are in town for one night only.

Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

That is all.

Last week, I was rather ill. I started getting a tickle in my throat and a stuffy head on Super Bowl Sunday. I started feeling better on Wednesday, so I went out for a few after work. This was bad idea number one. Friday night and Saturday night I drank fairly heavily and didn’t get much sleep. This was bad idea number two. Saturday and Sunday during the day, I spent the majority of my time standing in the middle of a frozen lake with little more than a pair of jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and a hoodie on. This was bad idea number three. Sunday afternoon, we rode a four-wheeler around on said frozen lake for several hours. This was bad idea number four. These four bad ideas lead up to one evil, evil result. Pneumonia.

For you lucky souls that have never had pneumonia, let’s take a trip, you and I. A little trip through the hell that has been my last few days.

Sunday: After being out on the four-wheeler, I go home and take a warm shower. After the warm shower, I lay down on the couch and start getting the worst chills I’ve ever had. I fall asleep at 9:30 PM.

Monday: I wake for work at 7 completely and utterly exhausted. I force myself to go to work because I think it’s just a hangover, hacking and coughing the whole way so hard I think I’m going to puke blood in the car. After a miserable three and a half hours at work, I drive home, nearly falling asleep several times. I get home at 11:45. I lay down on the couch suffering through said chills with the occassional (fuck, I can NEVER spell that damn word) bout of sweating and relentless coughing. I sleep from 12:15 PM until about 7. I wake up for a couple of hours, drink 4 bottles of water, and fall back asleep around 9 or 930.

Tuesday: Wake up at 6:30 with every intention of trying to drive to work. At 6:31, I decide work is not a good idea. 9:45, I visit the doctor, who tells me I have walking pneumonia. After telling him how much better I feel than the previous couple days, he tells me I had full-blown pneumonia. This explains a lot. He prescribes me some antibiotics, I pick them up, I drive home, I get stuck in my parking lot. My car is resting on the snow with the wheels barely touching the ground. This is not an ideal situation. After my nice new neighbor helps me dig the car out, I immediately go inside and sleep some more.

Wednesday: Back at work, still coughing, still congested, not wanting to waste any more vacation days being sick.

The lesson for today? Don’t ride ATV’s around on frozen lakes in the dead of winter after being sick for a week, because you’re probably going to catch a nice case of the pneumonia. I miss being a teenager when I could be stupid because I was indestructible.

I’m sure some of you find it rather humorous that the guy who can’t shut up has completely lost his voice. I think it’s fucking hilarious. However, it is also very frustrating in a job where I am required to be on the phone for several hours a day. Hopefully, everything will be back to normal (or at least audible) tomorrow. I think I already emailed some people, but for those I haven’t, please don’t call me tonight unless it’s an absolute emergency. Talking is actually causing me physical pain. Thanks so much.

(Update: My voice has returned, but in exchange for my voice, I have given up my ability to breathe through my nose or move more quickly than a snail. I also had to have a weird dream that involved two hairless cats. Don’t ask. )

Please try to complete your thoughts in one comment rather than posting three or four right in a row. My lazy ass doesn’t want to have to click the “approve” bubble that many times. Any deviation from this policy will result in immediate decapitation. Thank you for your cooperation.