You Want a Piece of Me?
Crooked Views
By Joseph Anthony
These Blogs are “my truths!” I stake no logistical claims, nor research to support my opinions and experiences.
WARNING: A day in the mind (& life) of Joseph Anthony, may cause extreme dizziness and overpowering feelings of anxiety!
In this episode of Crooked Views, I shall explore the loss of Self … and you thought, from the title, we were going to fight! Being a Stand-Up Comedian, for my entire adult life, I have attempted to make this, Stream of Consciousness, funny, real, and less analytical. See, right there, analytical … NOT funny, Joe!
I pick up my phone and realize that I have hit my Snooze button 17 times. Is that all? I lie in bed and lament, why am I so tired? Why didn’t I get up earlier? Why don’t I want to put my feet on this floor, stand upright, and start this day? Fear, that is why! Fear of the To-Do List, that awaits me. “That’s it,” I decree, from my achy, horizontal position, “today is the day — Joseph’s day!” All for me. Me, me, me! No excuses. No sidetracks. It is a silent promise, because my breath, makes even me want to throw up, since in my nighttime anxiety, of the day about to follow, I ate cereal, candy, cake, and leftover Chinese food. That is ok, you needed to do that, for you, Joseph! Now, I am going to put on some music and write my blog today and do nothing else! It is coffee, ritualistic morning BM, and then straight downstairs, to the think lab.
BUT THEN …
Why isn’t the bowl filling up? Dammit, a clog, I told them not to use napkins, but they just rolled their eyes, at the crazy old man. Wait, I have been eating a lot of dried fruit lately, maybe … Nah, couldn’t be… anyway. Two hours later, I have exhausted three plungers, a Snake, text messages with a Plumber friend, physical energy, sweat, and a slew of other efforts and YouTube suggestions, because calling in a Professional, would tie up my whole day. My coffee has gone cold and I still must finish my ritual, in another bathroom.
I enter the kitchen, to brew a fresh cup. Of the 60 mugs that we own, I enjoy 2 of them. The other is in the sink. Let me wash it for later. While the coffee drips, I will empty the dishwasher. I do not want to hear my wife complain later, as I have no time for arguing on Joseph’s day. Might as well empty the sink now that the dishwasher is free. Let me tighten these loose cabinet doors and lubricate the squeaky bathroom door, since that commode is out of action right now, and that’s it! I am hardly the domestic type or home handyman [What Women Really Want]. Opening a new milk container, I walk over to toss out the plastic tab. Shit, the bin is overflowing. Am I the only one who empties this? I put some winter clothes on and run the recycling to the outside pail. The neighbors all have their recycling out, it’s obviously pickup day. It’s windy and there are plastic containers all over the lawn, I can’t skip this pickup — two weeks from now, we will be overflowing. I’m just going to sort all this stuff (newspapers, cardboard, the trash that is not recyclable, which my family thinks are) and set it up curbside, in such a way that the Garbage men won’t get pissed off and leave my pails in the middle of the street. Done. I must get started on my day. My Christmas decorations are still up. I would like to leave them up, but the National Organization of Suburban Affairs (aka the neighbors) will have many sleepless nights. Not today, Joe … not today. Back into my comfy clothes and “dammit,” my coffee is cold!
I am exhausted. Perhaps a little exercise? No, it is late already, and I really want to write today. I need to shed this morning’s skin, I am gonna take a quick shower and go buy a cigar. I know it’s unhealthy, you promised your kids you’d quit, it’s expensive, the nice woman is in Shop-rite now and the mean one comes in later. Hey, screw it. If I need a cigar right now, I’ll get one. Back home. Few puffs in the yard, then it’s (Bang Bang) … great, now the dog is pounding the glass. I have to let her out. Oh, hurry up Lucy … stop barking, stop smelling, it’s the same backyard as yesterday, I want to get started. Ok, finally, yes, I’ll give you a treat. We’re out. I’ll buy them later, girl. I’m apologizing to a dog. That’s it, I’m filling your bowls and heading downstairs. Great, now the cat is rubbing on my leg. I’ll feed you too, ya’ pain in the ass. Let me clean her litter, so the Prima Donna doesn’t poop outside of the box. After I dump this bag of litter and wash my hands I … “what?” “Yes, I can take you. Sure, I can do that. That’s a good idea — we’ll do that — can it wait?” OK, that takes care of all the kid’s questions, favors, and requests. It is creative time baby! Ice cold coffee and how the FK did it become two o'clock? Jesus, who is texting me now? Grrrr, I told my sisters not to include me in Group texts … now this phone will “ding” all day! I have to eat … I haven’t eaten anything yet today! Friggin’ survival — it’s keeping me, from my — me day! There’s no food. I pay for the groceries, but she waits until the very last minute. Screw this, I’ll make a list — I will go myself, later. Need dog treats anyway, I promised. Cup of coffee, Graham Crackers with jelly, then down I go. I’m really losing my inspiration. “Will someone please answer the door. Hello? Never mind, I’ll get it.” “Good afternoon sir.” “Hi, how ya’ doing? No — I’m …I’m … really busy and it is the middle of the winter, so I’m not thinking about landscaping, ya’ know?” Was I rude to that kid? He just… Joe, that is the job he took, now go write.
Wo, I’m stressed — quick smoke. Now I have to pee, for like the twentieth time today. Just breathe and get your ass in that office. Why is my furnace making that noise? Ignore it, Joe, maybe it will go away. Finally, I am in my home office. I really, really, need to start clearing up this room. Just focus on the damn blog. My most urgently due bills are right on top of my laptop, with the due dates written in big Sharpie impressions, so I know that they must be attended to. I won’t be able to write if I don’t deal with this. How am I going to write a free essay, knowing I need money to pay these bills? Focus Joe. Like this company, these giant corporations, and this municipality, are going to care if I pay these today, instead of blogging? Put them aside. They will be there tomorrow. It is, YOUR DAY, REMEMBER?
Still in my office. Take a few deep breaths, to refocus. Suddenly, I notice a text notification. I silenced the phone after my sisters’ group. Dad, my friend drove by and your car trunk is open. Once again, I put on my Winter garb and lace-up sneakers, because I am not a proponent of socks with sandals. I close the trunk. How did this happen? Nothing seems missing. Wow, that dog is booking by! “Shit, Lucy got out!” A Jeep thankfully stops within 3 feet of my canines’ life. With the help of the passenger, we corral the bitch, who thinks this is all a game. Now I must drag her stubborn, muscular, 90 pounds of flesh, across the street, as she fights me every step of the way. Discussing the event with my daughter, then, “I really must get to work, Momma.”
Back in the office now, another deep breath and a long exhale. I shake my head and smirk to myself, over the day’s obstacles, thus far. It is that or slam the desk and go smoke again. Sip … guess what is ice cold, again? Back in the kitchen. While waiting for — hell, I’ve lost track of how many cups this is — I might as well take my meds (especially half of, the little white one 😉) and my twenty supplements. [Now, our protagonist shall make his liquid concoction]. Starts with water … and of course, no one has filled the pitcher, again. Waiting for the water, to filter through the Brita, painstakingly slowly. Tonic water for cramps. Honey and Apple Cider vinegar, for improved blood flow to the brain, to help with my dizziness. Water’s done dripping and a dash of black pepper for vitamin absorption. De-luscious! Why? None of it seems to help!
[I cannot express, strongly enough, just how cathartic, writing this is.]
Routine email check, on my phone. It feels like I am eliminating tasks when I delete the useless ones. And … I can’t read the important ones without my glasses. I chose to look, now, I have 3 new (hypothetical) Homework assignments, sitting in my inbox. They are all important. They all must be done. Some have deadlines. This is stuff, that I just really wanna read. Like this article, on Time Management! The temptation, to flip flop my goals for today, and begin tackling my email homework, is almost irresistible. Make more phone reminders. Use bullets. Set days and times — because it “certainly” won’t be today — TODAY IS MY DAY! It defeats the purpose if I start doing now, what other people and companies desire of me, in my emails. What if they get a read confirmation? Never mind! Reminders, done. To hell with it — I’m drinking this cup cold.
I am in the office. When did it become five o'clock, I think, as I stare, at the now flickering cursor and blank Word Doc? I got nothing! If I’m not feeling the blog — I’ll promote the blog. Oh No … no … not Social Media!? The far more obligatory, evil twin, of e-mail. Notifications. Instagram, Twitter, Facebook Fan Page, TikTok, Facebook profile page. Scroll. Hopefully clever and persuasive post, complete with a link. A little more scrolling (or trolling, as it were), to show I care — but do I? Do we? When did knowing all each other’s events, thoughts, and feelings, become mandatory? Damn you, Justin Rosenstein … damn you. You knew this when you created the “Like button,” didn’t you? The cat has wandered in and wants to explore every box, in this storage shed of an office. Not now girl. Oh, don’t roll over! Sorry. Is there anyone else that wants my time today? After another long stare at the screen, I type; the date, draft 1, a title, and a short bullet point outline, for when I circle back to this, later this evening. Refreshed, re-caffeinated, and free from the day’s interruptions. “This subject’s gonna kick-ass, once I get into it!”
I holler back, “be right there.” During dinner, I say truly little, for fear that conversation will lead to either more commitments, or arguments, and I can’t afford either. Must salvage, what is left of Joseph’s day. Besides, these three stole most of it from me already … and you too Lucy — stop looking cute and innocent! “Yeah, I’ll cut you up some chicken.”
Had a smoke and my fresh coffee is already cold. Go upstairs, throw it in the microwave, and don’t look anyone in the eye — that sparks conversation and more demands of me. I am in the office again. My feet are cold, so I set up the space heater. Feeling sleepy. A quick check of my email. Ugh, this financial aid stuff (for both children), never ends. Let me see what’s going on. That makes no sense. That’s wrong. I can’t … I can’t, compile this all tonight. New phone reminder, complete with bullet points, of what I must figure out, before contacting the schools. There goes an hour. Next email. Virtual job interview. God, so much has changed in my life! I was … I used to … I wish … (defeated) I certainly can’t fire off this essay, tonight. There is literally a script, that some research team Geeks developed, and it is used by the Interviewer, and the answers, have to be somewhat prepared, by the Interviewees (in this case me), beforehand. “How is that an actual interview?” I’m too old for this shite!
[THIS TIME, OUR PROTAGONIST, INTENT ON BEING CREATIVE AND PUTTING OFF YET ANOTHER PRINCIPAL TASK — THAT IS FOR EVERYONE EXCEPT HIMSELF — TAKES OUT AN 8.5 x 11 PIECE OF BLANK SCRAP PAPER, TO WRITE HIS NEW TO DO LIST]
With Sharpie and yellow highlighter in hand, I begin writing, in large fonts, tomorrow’s day and date, a start time, and a list of boldly circular bullets. Underlines and asterisks are used. This interview is important. Not only to my family’s finances but to the brainwashed people that will conduct it. Deep down inside, I could care less. I’ll get up at 5 am. I have to. Now, I write [I would say “Crickets”, but it is January]. Slowly, closing the laptop and resigning, I make a grocery list (because I never went and neither did my wife), putting a star next to dog treats, because, after all, I promised. I make an auto maintenance checklist for my mechanic (he hates my lists … BUT I want to make HIS job easier), because one kid smelled something and the other heard something, and I know — because I know they do not — that both cars are due for oil changes.
In my bedroom, I watch Taxi, on Hulu. Sitcom episodes, that I can quote verbatim. But “hey,” it’s Me Time, right, and dammit, I like Taxi! A shell of a man, who had a vision (a plan), on his toilet this morning, I fall asleep. Positioned like the letter Z, because I don’t want to disturb the 90-pound dog in the bed, my snoring wife, who has to work tomorrow and jumps, thinking I want sex, if I accidentally touch her … and now, the cat is using my neck to masturbate. When I awake to pee, around 2 am, I find myself ransacking the kitchen again. It’s not surprising, since I only had one legit meal, not including graham crackers, and 7 or 8, cups of cold, burnt, coffee.
All right Readers — let me jump, from *Stream of Consciousness — before one of us hurts ourselves. You get the point! No? See, I think I am getting up in 3 hours, to make a new start, but I probably will not.
-See sentence number one.
*Stream of Consciousness — this writing technique, was experimental, for me. Quite literally though, the events are a summation of two actual days, crammed into one, and trust me, much was omitted. “You Want a Piece of Me?” Well, you/they got the whole pie!
Follow your dreams? HA! Monks and Drug addicts are FREE from realities obligations. Everyone else, are you and me. Anyway, that is my Crooked View.
