So late last night I was chatting with my best friend “G” down in Manhattan online. He seemed angstier than usual. That’s my gig. He’s a Taurus, after all. He shouldn’t be angsty. But we were talking about age and how we’re now referring to 23 year olds as “That kid” because we’re so elderly. Okay well, “G” said that. I’m not as elderly as him evidently, even though I’m 6 years older, because I don’t think of twenty-somethings as kids. Maybe that’s just a guy thing.
I also don’t usually talk to him much about my problems. Or about my depression or poverty or lack of love life. That’s your job to listen. Aren’t you lucky? (You can nod your head appreciatively if you want.) I just remain a supportive friend, which is easy with “G” because he’s such a great friend and I love being there for him. Also he knew me long before all this bipolar crap befell me, so I feel that our friendship is real and I don’t have to act any certain way, because in the words of Billy Joel, he likes me…”Just the way you are….” (inside joke).
So anyways, we’re chatting and he’s talking about a project he’s doing and how he’s having trouble getting motivated and I told him my name was witty apathy snerkowitz too…meaning YEAH I KNOW HOW THAT IS!!! And then suddenly out of the blue he’s typing, “So why don’t you come down to NYC for a few days and help me?”
(THIS IS ME DOING ONE OF THOSE 1970 SIT-COM COMEDIC DOUBLE TAKES….)”What’cho talkin’ bout Willis?”
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!!!!!!!!!! Toot, toot! Angst Central pulling in. Toot!
So I typed in “Sure. Eeek! Sure.” We both knew it wouldn’t be flying since I’ve been helping him with some flying anxiety recently. And I definitely don’t fly. No thanks. I’m good! Heh!
He then sent me the link to Amtrak and asked me when I could come. Fortunately, other then a shrink appointment Tuesday morning, my dance card is pretty empty next week. Okay, completely and utterly empty. Yay for being so popular, witty!! I can take my drawing class the other 51 weeks a year, because after all “G” and the Museum of Modern Art are waiting for me! Wahoo!! (Oh and even Charlemagne was excited when I just emailed him about MOMA. He actually typed “Fantastic” and then suggested that I bring my art down and try to sell it.
Yeah, I’ll set up next to one of the Hindu hotdog vendors off Time Square maybe.
So after I got off the computer about 1:30 a.m. I immediately spazzed out like some Jerry Bruckheimer special effects extravanganza gone bad. Oh my god, I have no money. My clothes are from the 80’s. I need to lose 25 pounds in 5 days. Chin wax—STAT! Who’s going to take care of Guardcat? I’m terrified of subways! No computers for 3 days. Its going to be the Fourth of July the next day, the penultimate symbol of America, what if the al Quaida decide to blow up New York City? My mom’s health condition. Or the much worse, guilt condition…since there was dead silence on the phone when I told her I was going to NYC next week for 3 days. And then what…about….those…Yankees. I just had to add that in there even though I don’t watch sports, but it seemed appropriate since they’re affiliated with New York City.
But you see the thing that prevents me from having a life is not the Doing Things Part….its the Preceding Terrifying Anticipatory Part.
Like flying in an airplane is fine. Like oh, look at those pretty fluffy clouds and those teeny tiny little cows in the fields. Its just that walking TO the airplane and getting strapped into that metal tube of severe and terrifying death that always scares me.
And my Dad was an airline pilot for over 35 years and never crashed. He just died of Alzheimers.
So where was I going with this? Oh, so naturally I couldn’t go to sleep. I was up washing sinks, dusting, watering plants, picking cat fur clumps way up under my bed next to my box of sex toys.
yay…heh…I’m going to New York City….gulp. And I had even already charged the ticket on my friend’s credit card. So that made it even more permanent.
So I talked to “G” online today and he said him and his partner (who just won the Tony Award) were excited to be seeing me shortly. And rather ironically right then my phone rang, as if on cue and my mom said, “I need to get “G”s phone number in case I go in the hospital when you’re gone.”
See how that works and why witty is the way she is and why she talks about herself in the third person all the time. So I was trying to juggle the two conversations at once. One that had someone excited to see me…who will be treating me like a goddess fairy princess of Manhattan in less than five days (this is the same person who brought me to all my favorite Woody Allen film locations the last time I was in New York because he knew I grew up thinking I was Woody’s West Coast counterpart) and then the other person making sure her health was in even more jeopardy perhaps because I’d be five hours away actually having a good time and being treated like a goddess fairy princess in Manhattan.
I did drop “A”, my therapist a quick note this morning. I told him about my trip and said he better not cancel my appointment because I will be a wreck and will need a spot of encouragement and perhaps some guilt-deflection therapy before I board the train. And he wrote back:
“obviously there’s a lot going on, but you need to go to ny for your sanity!”
Amen to that, brotha!