a work in progress

Well friends, it’s happened again… yup, I’m depressed. Much as I’d like to think that an idle life is the one for me, it’s becoming increasingly harder to swallow… and to finance.  For the first time in a while, I’ve had the apartment to myself. The wife is at work, the roommate off at another stage (or for my friends outside the culinary world, a job interview/audition). Maybe it’s the emptiness that makes my spacious (by New York standards) 2 bedroom with hardwood floors seem so desolate… maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t had the funds to buy a TV to provide the requisite background noise we so often take for granted… I’m sitting in a plush bed… the only furnishing… wishing I’d laid out for that Ikea couch I saw a few weeks back. The apartment is “cheery” in that it’s well lit by lots of windows… windows I haven’t covered yet… making me feel something like a fish in a bowl.

I took a walk through my fashionable little neighborhood… avoiding the hipster moms driving  danish made storllers… stopping off for “happy hour” at the saddest, diveiest bar on the drag. There are no happy hours in here. The time passes slowly and without joy for the few old men I’m coming to know as regulars and the collection of equally pitiable bartenders. When I walk in, shattering the comfortable gloominess with a burst of natural light, I’m greeted with a knowing nod before these veterans of long forgotten wars turn their attention back to their bottles of beer. A toddler is crawling on the dingy green felt of the pool table in back, his mother squeezing in a few last moments of playtime before his grandmother whisks him away and she begins her evening shift. I’m on my second shot of Jack, only $5 with a beer, wishing that it was 6pm on the west coast instead of here so I could watch game 7 of the Hornets vs. Spurs series. As it stands now, at 7:30, I’ll be to drunk to venture out somewhere with a television to watch it. It’s just as well, as I really shouldn’t spend anymore money today.

When my $2o dollars ran out, after a buy-back from the barkeep who mothered the little bastard from the pool table, I made my way back home. I stopped off for a six-packof MGD, a tribute to my friend Brain who used to drink it religiously, a half pint of warm Jack Daniels, and I returned to my bed. So here I am, wondering why I always deal with depression in such a stereotypical and destructive manner. Tomorrow I’ll have things to do, so the exile I’m feeling from the normal world won’t sting so much. I’ll be heading to the city for a shave and a haircut, preparation for my court date on Wednesday. Did you know you can still get a Straight Razor and Hot Towel shave? I didn’t either, but you can at a select few places in New York. It’ll be the first time a razor has touched this face in over a year… I’m hoping it makes me feel a little less like a bum. Then Wednesday is the court date at last, and we’ll see if I can beat the rap for carrying a pocket knife. I’m hoping the sight of me limping in on a cane, dressed in a suit and tie will lend the judge a little sympathy, but I’m not exactly counting on it. At most, I’m looking at 5 days and a $1000 fine. I’m not real excited about the prospect of either of them, but at this point 5 days will cost me a lot less than $1000.

After that, I’ll be back to business as usual such as it is. I’m going to have to secure the services of an attorney for this workman’s comp case… it’s been over a month now, and still not one cent has been paid. The law states payments are due within 18 days, the insurance company admitted it was true, but said I’d have to take that up at the hearing… whenever that ends up being. Along with the daily harassing phone calls I’ve been placing to my boss, the insurance company and The State Workman’s Comp Board, I should keep busy enough that I don’t find myself in a funk like this for at least a few more days.

For now, I feel a little better now that I’ve vented… it’s as if just putting into words all the frustration and sadness makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something. I’m going to accomplish one more thing before the day is over, and that’s killing this half pint and sixer. Cheers.