Sunday, September 11, 2005

Insomnia, Em, and a Respite

Fri. 7:48p…Insomnia still. I never realized what a mean thing it could be. I slept three and one half hours Monday night.

Tuesday—nothing. Not a single wink.

Wednesday—climbed in bed with Em at 11:30p. Watched the clock until 2:00a. Saw it again at 2:15a, 2:40a, 3:00a. I got out of bed at 5:15a. In between, I got up three times to investigate “noises.”

I am paranoid and jittery. My eyes hurt. My skin aches. Hot flashes. So, unless I am menopausal, my mind and body are simply battling the demons I can’t give voice to. Also, I’ve learned that with no sleep comes an absolute lack of appetite. It progresses from a “don’t want to eat” to a “can’t eat.” Everything within sight becomes unappetizing.

It is amazing, I’d say, the thoughts and questions that invade a man’s head during such times. I find myself considering man’s propensity for violence most often. Strange for me, but somehow comforting.

09.10.05 …With the above comes a gnat’s attention span and ability to complete a thought. So it is now some 24 hours later.

I was nonfunctional and so took yesterday off work to try to rest. I did sleep about five hours so that was good. Parts of the day follow: Having worn the same pair of contacts for six weeks, I went to the eye doctor for new ones. $45.00 later, I left with three month’s of mediocre sight. From there, I lumbered down Highway 70S, turned left on Old Hickory, found Sevier Brothers, and priced tires for the fading Jeep. The freshly head-shaven, tattooed guy who dealt with me, was about as patient with me as one with a child who doesn’t really like children yet feels guilty about it. With alignment and bottom of the barrel tires, I am looking at $514.00. Pocket change, Baby! I carry that kind of scratch in my bra.

From there, I actually went to a Firearms store (or Gunshop) on Charlotte Pike. Me. I priced handguns. Not to worry though. I can’t afford a Glock 9mm. And truth be told, I would never be comfortable having one around with Em in the house. But I looked, just the same.

From there to Green Hills. I was thirty-five minutes early for Jim Jarmuschs’s Broken Flowers. The movie was a fraction of what I wanted it to be, yet still wonderful. I like me some Bill Murray. The guy is a fucking treasure.

…So M. bought a house. Along with D., I helped him move today. M. has long been my single contact in Bellevue. And while we rarely take advantage of proximity, I will miss him. Gallatin seems like a country away to me. But, of course, it is not. I am very pleased for him. Buying a house is a big thing. It is a good move for him.

…My Boy is in Boston since Thursday and I miss him. But I am pleased for him to have the experience. Last I spoke to him he was tooling around Boston Harbor on Uncle P.’s boat. Good for him. It is a grand harbor with a remarkable view. I love Boston and I love that he does too. His words to me were, “Hello, Daddy! Happy Birfday! I love you! I saw a whale!” Apparently, Boston Harbor is lousy with whales. Leave it to Emerson…

Since I still have no appetite, I figured the thing to do was grill a T-bone the size of my head (and add a baked potato). I managed five bites of the steak and ½ the potato. I am a notorious glutton. What gives?

…09/11/05… I slept some last night. And I’ve eaten better today. I sat at Daltons for awhile and partook of offered draughts and Woodfords.

Before that, I watched my Titans play a miserable game.

I am now on the porch. It is mild out—very comfortable. I’ve relit the remainder of last night’s mammoth birthday cigar—what Kinky Friedman would call a “dead soldier.” And it is exactly as Winston Churchill once described the re-lighting of a cigar—“a little gamey.” It is. It is gamey and satisfying. I will finish the La Flor Dominicana of gargantuan size and follow it with a CAO Gold Double Corona. The CAO I will see to completion.

The sky is a blue now that defies description as it fades to night. The Gloam, I call it. It is my most pleasurable part of the day and its perfection is second only to my Boy. How I miss him today. I have spoken with him four times and each time he has been preoccupied—as you would expect a three-year-old to be. To him, so far away, I am but a distant voice. To me, he is sustenance. His return is marked for 4:45p tomorrow, and I anxiously await it. It occurs to me that I rely far too heavily on him for my own happiness. And I am sharp enough to recognize the infinite unfairness of that. It is part of my duty as a father to withhold that knowledge from him. I fear I do not do a very good job of that sometimes. That is an unfair burden for him to bear. But it is fact. Although he is as intuitive as a person five times his age, I will strive to keep this from him his whole life. There is some knowledge from which no good can arise. I pride myself in holding to that.

That being said, I look forward to his return tomorrow.

…I plan to take a break for now. Two, maybe three weeks. Time enough to get my head together and end this betrayal of self of being so personal in this forum. I have stories to share and I hope to work them up: My encounter with spiders at the Washington zoo; Em calling me an asshole in the doctor’s waiting room—all smile and innocence; my take on a particular day; betrayal and the like.

So, until then, whether one week or five, I bid you adieu. I will return, rested, svelte, sober in thought, and with stories to share.

Insomnia free.

11 Comments:

Blogger MJ said...

Alas, it seems I must carry on this betrayal of self of being so personal in this forum without you.

Broken Flowers hasn't reached my outpost yet, I think traffic is still heavy in this neck of the woods for The Dukes of Hazzard. Well, a little something to look forward to.

Oh fuck. Double fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. (That felt good I guess.) Don't forget, changing your mind is not a sign of weakness. In fact, I just decided, it is a sign of great courage and strength...and intelligence!

Later!

2:11 AM  
Blogger Aunt B said...

Don't leave us! Or leave us, but come back. But most of all, be well and healthy.

9:37 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Rest well friend.

9:37 AM  
Blogger Fill said...

It will be too quiet around the blogosphere without your posts, Ryan. Hurry back. - Scr.

9:43 AM  
Blogger samantha said...

You'll be missed!

12:24 PM  
Blogger Rex L. Camino said...

I have my own bouts of insomnia every couple of months, and they will someday drive me down that short street of sanity I have remaining.

But maybe then I will enjoy them.

4:37 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Just one thing to say:

Take care.

OK, one more thing.

Please come back when you're ready.

6:39 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I hope all is well with you and Em, Ryan.

7:39 PM  
Blogger Ryan said...

Thanks for the recent "check-in," Hamel. Things are going OK. I hope to begin posting again within the next couple weeks. Hope all is well on your end.

Ryan

12:02 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm a huge fan so youmight like canine lymphoma

5:53 PM  
Blogger Erin O'Brien said...

Remember Larry Brown?
He's been gone a year. I miss him as much today as I did when I wrote this essay for the Cleveland Plain Dealer late last year. It outlines the delicate links between Brown, "Leaving Las Vegas" and me.
O'Brien on Brown

9:09 AM  

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