and a song I’ve sung one time in public
Surprise! After breaking my vow of no more wine in the house and celebrating a terrific poetry reciting after returning home last Wednesday, and drinking about a pint and a half that night, I successfully avoided further engagement of said medication for four whole days. Today, Monday was challenging. I am sad. Not grievously anxious; just sad. So consumingly sad that it was all I could do to RESIST growing desire to just take a few “sleep aids” (nothing dangerous; bought off the shelf at a supermarket) and drift off to the null zone in my recliner for as long as I could manage it. I didn’t do that. The BIG NET GAIN from having NO wine around is I am more inclined to stay in motion, making productive use of my time, working on my small aviation museum (brought home in drastically reduced size from its home at the local airport last year) continuing to arrange it. I’ll explain more in the future. I know this seems “highly illogical,” but I didn’t succumb to wine until evening. For nine hours I drank six cups of coffee, nibbled three small donuts, and had the most productive day working exclusively on the aviation that I have had this year. Lest you presume I had fun, WRONG! I didn’t enjoy two minutes of the day, except for the donuts which I felt I had earned. Aside from that I didn’t smile, talked to no living soul, checked Facebook only twice and e-mail three or four times. I didn’t feel good until I stopped working and ate a salad for din-din. When I finished dinner, I drank a little wine, was happy from avoiding it up to 6:30 and drank only a small glass and tried to nap: closed my eyes, listened to the radio and gave up after 15 minutes; returned to work on the museum at about 6:45 and stopped for the day at 10:30, truly satisfied with what I’ve accomplished today. I’m not touching the wine; will take a few more sleep aids about midnight and call it a day.
The song lyric that follows I wrote about 12 years ago and sang once: at an open mic at Robbie’s Restaurant in Springfield on a Wednesday night. I had trouble with the refrain melody that night and haven’t sung it since. It shares my discomfort from being solo at my decrepitating age. I never dreamed in adolescence that I could love and cherish female companionship and affection to much for so long, so warmly and STILL be unmarried so long. The ultimate answer is that I’m still unmarried because I have proven so witheringly inept at fostering lasting . . . .love. I’m not proud of this, I am ashamed, more ashamed than I was when I realized, years after my parents allowed me to quit taking piano lessons in fourth grade and warned me I would wish I had continued. I continued playing piano, wrote songs, learned to love piano and music over years hence. So here’s the lyric. Come visit me and I’ll SING it to you.
I Guess I Was Born to Be
by Job Conger
I’ve had me some sweethearts
Who said they thought me wise,
Traded love for some bounty-
ful baskets of lies.
It was all so mercantile,
I recall with a sigh.
I guess I was born
to be a single guy.
Hysterical romances all ended in a huff.
I haven’t loved often, or even enough,
But I’m done with this fool’s
game of wondering why
It seems I was born
to be a single guy.
(Here’s the refrain with the melody I stumbled over). . .
There were no greater thrills, passions more fine.
Than lusty tussles, lips sweeter than wine,
But those were yesteryears’ joys. Now I contemplate
Life chasing different dreams, as master of my fate.
No more quilt and antiques shopping.
There’s more room to stretch in bed.
I don’t have to pretend to like her friends;
I just have to pretend to like my friends instead
Haven’t vacuumed my house since last Fourth of July
I guess I was born to be a single guy.
I guess I was born to be a single guy.
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Live long . . . . . . . and proper.