[or how not to explode under pressure]
Some regular-looking guy
sidles up to the bar, orders
a drink, reminds himself that
it’s April already (for Pete’s
sake!) and that he has yet to
do his taxes (for a few years
now, in all honesty). But
yet, he believes. In the sys-
tem; in its ideology; in its
process to reduce evil as a
means to slog through an
increasingly complex good,
i.e., the progress of human-
kind; even in romance, (And
he a disavowed goth kid,
he claims—and I can feel us
all strain to find, earnestly,
a smidgen of that kid, as we
chomp our various potato
incarnations. You can see
him trying to find the kid
that must have been he, or
the one that was the he that
once was.). So he believes in the
progress of mankind. I learn
all of this as I sit next to him
during one of those overly-
long dinners, but this is
one I have no anxiety en-
during (a dinner that was
mostly just drinks, which
has got to help that ling-
ering relaxation). I sat
through, literally feeling a
light-bulb suddenly pop
out with its beam of lum-
inescence on at least a
couple of occasions. The
most meaningful to me was
when he suddenly felt he un-
derstood everything. Just in
that moment. And for only
a few that followed. Then it
apparently left him. (I know
these moments well, when
everything suddenly makes ab-
solute sense and can be ex-
plained away, even in terms
of some of the most peculiar
pairings that exist in the
same cosmos; in fact, with-
in mind-boggling proximity.
Anyway, it was an occasion
of some significance, this
dinner taken with complete
strangers, at least it seemed
so to most of us, who tuned in
from time to time to listen to
his pretty elementary but/and
poignant ramblings. Good for
him, I am thinking days later,
perhaps, because not every
Tom, Dick or Harriet has her
very own nickel psychiatrist
(if we’ve learned anything
during these sessions in which
we find ourselves dining
with complete strangers,
isn’t it surely this: that no-
thing whatsoever should be
taken for granted, nothing.
Most especially that Dame
Jade refills my prescriptions
without fail. Every. Single.
Month.) (My problem is in-
deed anxiety, purportedly.
And it doesn't just happen
on airplanes. Therapy works,
right?). Unless you’re on one
of those new, those, whattaya
call them?, those 90 day refill
plans. And that, my friends
(during which we both stifle
chuckles), is, as they say (and
even by me, while, of course,
so often wondering so hard
on whom this they might act-
ually be), an entirely different
ball of wax (and don't we know
it!), thank you. We remember
the first time we realized what
a doctor’s appointment was
all about so that we can pass
such morsels on to those as yet
uninitiated (oh, humanity, progress, etc.).
It is, quite simply, to prance in to the
doc’s lobby, sit for the five to twenty
minutes (on average) until called,
at which time you try to recall with
some accuracy the maze of cubicles
and gadgets you need to map yourself
from where you were sitting to her
office (also, remember that she goes
by Jade, says don’t call her Doctor
anyone), and once you find this
nice little working box with a view
of Alcatraz say, Okay Jade, I’ve a
fear of flying, and I’ve been tak-
ing a poll for something for like
20 years now on what my people—
the ones with the same condi-
tion—a poll which won’t be the
handiest tool of the trade but,
is not completely illogical
[Don’t forget Miss Jade that
I’m basically logic personified,
right?]. So, anyway, Jade, dear,
this very lengthy and logical—
semi-scientific—poll I took
using my old pals as lab rats,
which weren’t exactly rand-
omly chosen, was my way of
trying to find a way around
this illogical fear. So, my queries
of that good portion of the world
that seeks and answer or some
a remedy to this fear, it looks
to me like Xanax is going to
be my answer. I mean, really.
I still. Very much. Desire.
To experience. As much.
Of THE WORLD. As is human-
ly possible. At my age. So
can you please write me a pre-
scription for enough Xanax (I
would prefer the 1 milligram
to the point fives) to get me
to Boston and back [that'll be
the trial run, of course, which
by the way worked splendidly!]
so that shortly after that i can
turn 40 in Paris, hang out with
the Parisians for a couple of
weeks, and get back in one
semi-sane single solid, please?
Then she of course habitually
inserts her hand into her
left lab-coat inside pocket
and comes out with that old-
school looking rubber-band
topped prescription pad
that is, we all now understand,
the guiding light of these visits.
Within seconds she has written
you out a prescription for some-
thing illegible (it’s true) that turns
the ones with the same condi-
tion—a poll which won’t be the
handiest tool of the trade but,
is not completely illogical
[Don’t forget Miss Jade that
I’m basically logic personified,
right?]. So, anyway, Jade, dear,
this very lengthy and logical—
semi-scientific—poll I took
using my old pals as lab rats,
which weren’t exactly rand-
omly chosen, was my way of
trying to find a way around
this illogical fear. So, my queries
of that good portion of the world
that seeks and answer or some
a remedy to this fear, it looks
to me like Xanax is going to
be my answer. I mean, really.
I still. Very much. Desire.
To experience. As much.
Of THE WORLD. As is human-
ly possible. At my age. So
can you please write me a pre-
scription for enough Xanax (I
would prefer the 1 milligram
to the point fives) to get me
to Boston and back [that'll be
the trial run, of course, which
by the way worked splendidly!]
so that shortly after that i can
turn 40 in Paris, hang out with
the Parisians for a couple of
weeks, and get back in one
semi-sane single solid, please?
Then she of course habitually
inserts her hand into her
left lab-coat inside pocket
and comes out with that old-
school looking rubber-band
topped prescription pad
that is, we all now understand,
the guiding light of these visits.
Within seconds she has written
you out a prescription for some-
thing illegible (it’s true) that turns
out to be, like, 20 Xanax. That,
my friend, is the game-changer.
That’s a part of humanity evolving
in which we can palpably feel our-
selves participating, if not some-
time clinging to with our dear
lives.
Soon,
there-
after, he turns 40 in
Paris, France – his
very first trip abroad.
And the rest is history
(which, you can judge,
if by nothing else, a peek
into his medicine cabinet
alone.) (Ah, alone a-
gain, poor dear med-
icine cabinet, what?).
Well, lots has been
learned, I would say.
Especially today. We
learned how to do one
thing the unwritten but
most appropriate way,
in a world which we
find increasingly more
bizarre, day after
day after……day.
my friend, is the game-changer.
That’s a part of humanity evolving
in which we can palpably feel our-
selves participating, if not some-
time clinging to with our dear
lives.
Soon,
there-
after, he turns 40 in
Paris, France – his
very first trip abroad.
And the rest is history
(which, you can judge,
if by nothing else, a peek
into his medicine cabinet
alone.) (Ah, alone a-
gain, poor dear med-
icine cabinet, what?).
Well, lots has been
learned, I would say.
Especially today. We
learned how to do one
thing the unwritten but
most appropriate way,
in a world which we
find increasingly more
bizarre, day after
day after……day.
