Yes, yes, I know. It’s Coyote Rush. Now let me calm you down, take a seat and hush. I don’t care what time it is go ahead and let yourself be a lush. Slush it goes when it rains down into your brain, you’ll need a cane to get home after the seventh long island in a smokey haze.
OK, that was my instantaneous rap song. Sorry. It was bad. Once, I start doing something it’s hard to stop.
Like my dear colleague and friend James Dust said, yes, I have been playing minesweeper quite a bit. It’s a fun time, expert is so annoyingly hard though. I had never tried it before I was 16, my ex-girlfriend taught me how to play. Isn’t that sweet?
“I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.'”
Kurt Vonnegut said that. Actually his ‘good’ uncle said it.
I believe it to be extremely wise.
We are a society of instant gratification. Needing things now. NOW. NOW!!!!!!!!!! What’s next? What are we doing now? What, you’re just going to sit and watch a documentary? Wow, you’re a loser. I got to go do something. I want to have a buzz now! I need to get a girl NOW! Oh, she has a bf, that’s cool. Oh well. Oh, she has a VD that’s fine I’ll wear two condoms.
“The condom is the glass slipper of our generation.”
-Marla Singer: Fight Club
No, you don’t. Pick up a book and read it. Lay on the floor and coo with a baby. Rub a dog’s belly. Sit next to a piano and pound out awkwardly pronounced chords.
Slow down.
Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. I heard that from John Lennon, I’m fairly certain someone said that or something similar in the past. It doesn’t matter that’s where I heard it.
It’s true.
That old saying, take time to smell the roses. Also true.
Slow down.
Anyway, the story is what I mentioned above. Now let me tell you a little story of what I saw yesterday or maybe the day before, or maybe it never happened.
Somewhere someone, let’s call him Rick, sat about all day. Jobless, girl-less, friends dwindling like water slowing swirling down a drain, and not having much to do.
He sat around. He thought a lot. He hadn’t seen a person in three weeks. He lived in Wyoming. One of the most god forsaken places in the world.
No one had called him. No one had texted him, no one had stopped by his house. He hadn’t ate in six days. Drinking water in copious amounts. Enough that if someone did care about him, they would warn and remind him of water poisoning in which he would reply, “Yeah, that’s pretty much impossible, but thanks for reminding me.”
He suddenly had a thought. “Why don’t I go outside?” He hadn’t been outside in ten days. He looked out the window and it was gray and raining. His mood slipped farther down the slippery slope.
The Shockuation Room’s antenna had picked up this man’s sadness. I I knew how he felt because of my funk. Only wanting to play minesweeper and smoking pall malls when I don’t even smoke. I had found myself asleep on top of my computer’s keyboard more than once very recently: drooling like some type of swamp beast.
I knew that by pulling him out of his funk I could do the same for myself. So I hopped into a 1994 Buick and drove out there. Isn’t it funny how we’ve never said where the Shockuation’s location is? AHH HAAHAHAHA. That’s how funny.
I drove and drove. I knew that Rick would be freaky deeky dutch when I got to his double wide. It took me two days, I slept in the car, drank water and ate beef jerky.
I pulled into his driveway, even his driveway and trees seemed to be depressed.I knew I had my work cut out for me because of the way I had been feeling, he had been feeling even worse.
Feeling sorry for myself that I had let vagrants into my office and sleep in the basement in exchange for helping around the office. Food, sleep, housing, a place to clean up and social interaction. Plus, plenty of coffee and smoke breaks. I knew that was what they needed, but it only made me happy for a couple days.
Before I walked to his doorway, I got out of my car and looked at the sky. It was beautiful blue, it was partly cloudy and the clouds looked like cotton balls or misshaped marshmallows, not good enough to make it off the assembly line’s wheel. It didn’t matter, it cheered me up almost instantly.
Slow down.
The human race is not actually a race. It’s not a competition. I know, I am competitive about everything: silly arguments, why it is ok to drink pop, how isolating yourself can be a good thing, tennis, basketball, information about sports, what team needs to draft who or what position, seeing potential and talent, trying to understand people, being liked the most, being the funniest, being the wittiest, being the best looking, being the best at taking care of people, being the best at showing my empathy, being the best at blending in with people like a chameleon, being the best at having fun and making people happy, being the best at giving advice, being the best at listening and gaining knowledge or wisdom and finally the worst one of all, being the most listless, helpless, depressed, mellon collie individual you can see, then suddenly snapping out of it and being the most extroverted person happy to the point of slapstick in the world and no one understanding me. Far off topic, but thanks for hanging in there.
SLOW DOWN.
Ricky ticky had seen my white old beat up Buick. I am amazed that it works as well as it does, but that’s another jaunt off topic.
I saw him peeking around his blinds trying to figure out to be scared or happy to have someone show up at his house, even if it was an uninvited stranger. I gave him the Vulcan sign, Spock’s I come in peace sign. I knew Rick would get it.
He rushed to the door in excitement yet, a tinge of apprehension was visible. He greeted me.
“Hello stranger!”
“Hey Rick.”
“How do you know my name-”
I interjected quickly: “Just don’t go there, I know. And know how you’re feeling, that’s why I am here.”
“Oh” he said more sheepishly than a sheep could ever dream to be. “yeah, I’ve been kind of down lately, not myself.”
“I know,” I said with a humble face.
“I think we need to do something together. Forget about the last few weeks and just go have a grand shindig.”
“YEAH! That’s exactly what I need to do, wait, would you like something to drink? I have all sorts of booze, in the fridge I have milk, orange juice and Pepsi?”
“You know Rick, I haven’t had a glass of milk in a long time. What is the expiration date?”
“It still has three days left.”
“Yup, pour me a drink of milk. Thank you.”
“No problem at all, what should we do today?”
“We are how many miles from Cheyenne?”
“About eight miles, I believe.”
“Let’s get into my car and go there right now.”
“But, I haven’t showered in days.”
“That’s ok, put on some deodorant and spray yourself with air freshener. Then hair spray the heck out of your hair.”
He followed the directions. He smelled like ‘Soft Rain.’ And hairspray. Which was fine. I knew he needed this. I sprayed him with my special pheromone spray that I don’t break out only on special occasions.
As we arrived into Cheyenne, I heard wonderful strings and harps playing. I asked my co-pilot if he heard it too. He had. Something magical was going to happen, I knew it. It was going to defunct our funk.
For whatever reason there was a parade. But: there was no other floats or tractors or cowboys, or little children throwing candy. It was all for us. I looked over at Ricky Ticky and he had the biggest smile on his face. Women were lined up all along the street with signs that said Ricky Ticky. It was memorizing. I swelled with happiness.
There was a police officer waving us into our destination parking spot. I put the car that didn’t live up to all this excitment, but it didn’t matter anymore. We leaped out of the car and the crowd roared! Cowbells rang and fireworks exploded every where. Beautiful women rushed to us and carried us in their arms to the best drinking location in Wyoming. We were crowd surfing.
Rick was so happy he had to rush to the men’s room.
All his drinks were on the house. He asked why and the beautiful babies say we missed you Rick. All we want is for you to stop being a shut in. Don’t you remember all the awards you won in high school, don’t you remember being the all time leading scorer in basketball?
Rick said he remembered, but thought that he was hated for it.
I shook Rick’s hand and told him he would have no problem getting home tonight. He said thank you and I said, thanks for the beer. I need to go home. I needed to beat minesweeper, on easy. Then sleep for three days. I did. I thanked God that I was alive and happier. I only hoped that it would continue tomorrow and the next day. We will see.
Stay Tuned-
Coyote Rush
