No Right

I haven’t written in a while because sometimes I just get sick of the sound of my own voice. We grew up on B. Kliban and Boothe cartoons, and I don’t know which artist came up with it, but there was a recurring character of a guy sitting in a bathtub while his wife stood in the living room ironing from a plug in the ceiling light and the guy would announce stuff from his bathtub like “This is the year when things start to happen!”

I feel like that guy. Sometimes it’s funny. It’s not right now.

Mostly, I don’t like being the guy who does my thing, my rant. I could tell you about my acting class, about the fact that I have gone from being a guy who does plays he doesn’t care about with actors he hates for very little money, to a guy who does it for free, to, finally, a guy who pays for it, but this tilting is sometimes funny for me and right now it just isn’t.

Here is one small thought from a conversation that a group of friends and I are having. If I don’t believe in God, then to whom am I speaking when, in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep and I am tossing in the salad dressing of my own sweat and anxiety and I scratch my oily hair and check the time and sigh only to hear the tiny voice next to me giggle at a dream and mutter “it’s a hat-trick, that’s all I know, it’s a hat-trick”… to whom am I speaking when I say out loud “thank you, thank you.”