Wishing
Hoping
Both bad habits.
Useful stopgaps perhaps.
But not significant for long-term
return on investment. Why is a habit broken? Is a
habit a solid? Is a habit a physical constant? I envision
the Great Wall of China or the Berlin Wall: powerful symbols with
functional/logistical elements which have now been reduced to tourist
attractions and museum collection fodder.

When thinking of habits I think of nuns. When thinking of nuns I think of
punching nun puppets which strike a chord with
Baby Boomers who attended Catholic schools. I attended
Catholic schools, but the punching puppets have
little meaning to me. I did enjoy using them
to spar with a friend - identical nun, dukes
up, poised on his sticky fist…
I attended Catholic
schools. All
I was
left with was a creeping case of Atheism, crippling
insecurities, a chip on my shoulder I tried
to slip Atlas while he was sleeping.

Tonight I will be
sleeping on an air mattress
in the room I first ejaculated in
with any consistency (and yes, before
you ask, this is how I view this room). No,
this was not the first room I ejaculated in, but
rather the second.
The following tonight I will be sleepy with wine (I will
personally see to this). The tonight following the
following tonight I will be in Los Angeles.
I will be
slightly disappointed because
I will not
be
viewing The Muppets Movie with my parents. Instead
of course I will be heading to a Mexican beach
which I assume will be free of gun violence
and bloody drug money. I would
like to run barefoot on the sands before
the sun rises and not have a hypodermic needle
pierce my foot, lancing a blister …

If left unlanced that blister will bloom
into a callous. The habit of repetition, the repeated
frictions of life hardening soft skin
[insert metaphor regarding emotional
“toughness” and “endurance”]

I am in the habit of requiring (or think I am in the
habit of requiring) the friction of a stranger,
the fiction that sex heals all. Such
a casual fling, such a callous thing.
The closer I am to happiness the further
I struggle for the farthest reaching whim.

New York bound, a scouting trip for a possible
relocation. My boyfriend at the time
was considering taking a job
in Manhattan.
I did
not revel in the
idea, but I did revel in
not paying for a condo
in Hell’s Kitchen. I did not
want to move. I
,unbeknownst to me, was
angry.
I drank all night.
I picked up a pizza man.
The following morning he
wrapped himself, naked, in
my blankets
and walked to the bathroom.
When he returned
I was upset. I thought “why do
you think you can wrap you gross
naked body in my bed linens” (now I would
answer probably for the same reason
he thought you would want his gross naked
body with your gross naked body
in your gross bed for an extended period
of time overnight).
Instead of sharing
my thoughts apologized “Sorry about the
smell. I guess I had too much to
drink. Please open that window.” The apology
was insincere. The vomit
was so near
my face.

The years are malleable. Habits are not.
I have calloused my hands in preparation
of breaking all the bad habits I caught.