On the train to Jutland, to visit with the folks. Great trip; really crowded but got a seat besides a bunch of soldiers early in their draft period, offered them some of the beers Dennis bought me because I put his new computer together for him, and they proved a bunch of merry men, in every non-gay sense, Best of luck to them. Their conversations, which I of course spent a deal of time eaves-dropping into, offered many a great insight into the mind of young men this day and age, of course if even these are somewhat more settled into a certain lifestyle than others. I envy them their age, and their spirit, and their conquests as well I’m afraid to say. I at times wonder what my youth would have been like if I had been the extrovert that I am now. I would have been the center of the stage no doubt, at least that’ how I like to think it. ‘Tis a pity, really, I believe I would’ve been easier on myself in my desire for social companionship if I had been around the block some more. But it wasn’t to be, so I take my revenge now. I can appreciate V being nervous about it: I have been suffering some kind of mid-life crisis of late, probably I’m still in the middle of it and will remain so for a beat still.
I got straight into it, didn’t I, first job, first girlfriend, first child, first marriage, first house. I did everything to the textbook letter, first time out. With no experience what so ever in the weaker sex I went out and did all that one of my age was required to do. As if all my time before I first met her was spent in preparation of that moment, and the subsequent execution of all the steps perceived socially required. In truth, it was all about preparation, wasn’t it. I remember telling myself a number of times I was laying down long-term strategies. A load of bullshit, of course no-one at that age would be particular competent to think ahead of his libido, I was just making excuses as to why I was feeling lonely and miserable all the time. Well I wish I’d been more confident and outspoken, I do not think I would’ve been struck by these mid-life blues. I make it out worse than is, at least so I hope. Yet as I move on up the countryside and look out the window and see and think of all the places I have lived, and people I have come across and all that I have documented, still I feel as if there’s a something that I’m missing, and it has to do with being a citizen of the World and a compatriot of my fellows. I try my best to shift my attention to friendships for the sake of only friendships, and I trust that in time that will remain the only priority I harbor; and not, despite being allocated one such exotic encounter by V (given the clause that she must never know about it), a desire to seek the kind of female companionsihp I feel my youth was denied. I couldn’t be the sole one experiencing these notions, I’m sure they are the reason d’etre of the term, mid-life crisis. Well, I’ll get older will I not, and the notion will lessen. I do feel like that guy in lost in translation, though. Floating in his tub, trying but failing to make conversation with his wife over the phone.
Always got myself messed up about friendships, about what keeps people connected. I was – suppose to a degree still is – looking too much into quit pro quo(?). I do for you, you do for me. I used to be much worse, these days I’m better a not weighing it down, measuring every milligram of commitment. These days I’m simply trying to do what I can do stay connected. Keeping track so that I’ll get someone to come to my funeral.
Difficult to work on the script whilst visiting with the folks. Dad can’t keep the silent for long; he’s itching to talk. About near everything strikes his fancy, or breaks the quiet. He doesn’t see us the kind of frequent he would like, methinks. Talks of visiting with his former workplace, where there is very little activity left, bordering on a close. Makes me recognize how much of his identity was in his work. Says a lot about him, and offers explanations. I’m getting the age and beyond where I can’t take everything he says for face value. When merged with knowledge of his upbringing and the way he chose to live his life, a number of his statements must be disregarded. He is quick to judge, too quick even. I won’t make that same mistake, of isolating myself so much. So much that I won’t give some the benefit of the doubt, or feel the desire to strike up conversation about anything at all. I’m likely to make a host of other mistakes, naturally.