vodka monologues: Coasting, insomnia and more words to my mama

I used to know you; deep reflections invoke feelings of nostalgia, have me craving for a period that I barely even remember. Yet I maintain the most profound memories of a boy and his mother, on the backdrop of J.town with the freezing windy weather. While the watchman sleeps I watch my watch and peep out the window not to watch but just to pop a peek. I guess i'm bored and sort of wishing I could talk and weep like a reflective old man that knows that talk is cheap.

All your offspring are doing fine, just not up for the Nigerian grind except your crazy youngest son who is slugging it out in mines. Your mom is still pushing and looking strong and good, I ensure she is taken care of and has everything she should.

So things ended officially between me and she, and I kind of felt bad but I wish I felt worse, should that not mean more to me than "well it didnt work"? Then I started feeling bad because I wasn't feeling bad and so I hilariously actually tried to fake it. After two abstract pieces and barely a month in "pieces" I was miraculously cured and ready to mend the pieces. Put up a less than convincing show for the cameras I guess, but then realized that im actually a zombified mess. In my defense zombie mode was activated when you left, so it saved me from you, now what will save me from It?

My current lady situation could be summed up like this: Miss AU gave me a nicely camouflaged ultimatum, naturally I felt cornered and had to back down. We were tight and good buddies and she is truly quite lovely but i somehow managed to make a mockery of her talk to me. SG is a cool great girl and frankly loved by everybody while miss CY is mad hot but draws the crowd's animosity. LA is a situation that doesn't mind a situationship, HE is fiercely independent but also independently crazy so my expectations are mixed and its all a big maybe. CD is a calm girl that sends conflicting vibes, and in the center of this hive is a conflicted I.

Your face started to fade and I had to look at some pictures, its been barely sixteen years and im not sure if I still miss you. Well I was just eleven and forced to contend with those issues but mine is never resolved over a pile of used tissues. In a few months you will become a grandma in absentia, that little boy will never meet his firm feminist grandmother. But be assured that his uncle who is history's fervent lover, will tell him about the history of his father's beautiful and caring mother.