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Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA

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Howdy, friendly reading person!
I'm on a bit of a hiatus right now, but only to work on other projects -- one incredibly exciting example being the newly-released kids' science book series Things That Make You Go Yuck!
If you're a science and/or silliness fan, give it a gander! See you soon!

Just Let Me Sleep Another Twelve Hours, Okay?

Man, is it time to write something again already?

Shit. I thought when I moved my blogging schedule from ‘every freaking damned day, mostly’ to ‘every other night, give or take’, it would feel like a vacation. Wrong was I. It’s not exactly Weekend at Gitmo’s, or anything horrific like that — but I’m still amazed at how quickly the calendar turns.

Which simply means that I’m damned fucking old. That’s fine. I can live with that — which is good, I suppose, since the only alternative is… well, not living with it. Not living at all, really, when you get right down to it. So I’ll take the creeping gray hairs and phantom aches, thanks. Beats the hell out of keeling over at my desk and flopping onto the floor.

(‘Specially given my late-night choice of wardrobe. Nobody wants to be found in plaid boxers and a ‘Pimp Daddy’ T-shirt. Apparently, my fashion sense has already kicked the proverbial bucket.)

Anyway, it’s not just that. Much as I’d like to blame all of my shortcomings — and outgrowings — on the inexorable passage of time, there’s more to it than that. I’m having motivational issues, pretty much across the board lately. Even more so than usual, and that’s saying something, amigo. I mean, just look around this joint — with all the time I’ve spent slinging shit around here, it must be pretty clear that I’m not exactly Captain Ambition, for crissakes.

(Although, there’s always hope. I’d never set the bar quite that high — ‘captain’ is a lofty rank, after all — but maybe there’s something else that would fit my particular ‘talents’. Lance Corporal Half-Assing-It, perhaps. Or Sergeant Settle-For-Less. Maybe if I really stopped applying myself, one day I could become the Minister of Mailing-It-In. Sweet. That’s almost worth a shred of enthusiasm. Almost.)

Whatever it is that’s stuck in my craw — and I’m only assuming that’s where it’s stuck; I don’t even know where my craw is, frankly. Hell, do I even have a craw? It sounds like something you’d find on the ass-end of a lobster. Honestly, I’m just writing down shit that I’ve heard — I don’t know what it means, really. Hell, probably no one does. ‘Craw’. What the hell is wrong with people, anyway?

At any rate, what I was trying to say there is that whatever’s got me apatheticized, it’s doing a number on me. You know that noise you used to make, when Mom would wake you up, like on a Tuesday morning, and tell you it was time to go to school? And you didn’t want to get up, and you were tired, so you rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but she kept coming in and poking you? ‘Get up.‘ ‘You’re gonna be late.‘ ‘I’m counting to three, and you’d better be up!‘ Remember that?

Now, remember the noise you made, after the third time or so? The sound that comes from wanting no part of the outside world, but knowing that you’re not going to be left alone in frigging peace, no matter what you want? That annoyed, exhausted, grunty sort of noise? ‘Unnnnggghh!‘ That one?

Yeah, that’s my favorite noise these days. That’s what I’m talking about. When it’s time to get up — ‘Unnnnggghh!‘. Time for work? ‘Unnnnggghh!‘ Time to drive home? ‘Unnnnggghh!‘ Now it’s the weekend — go out for beer? All the way out of the house? ‘Unnnnnnnnggggggghhhhh!

(And yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Those last three paragraphs were a pretty fricking long way to go for where that ended up. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should delete that bit, and replace it with something wittier. But you know what? ‘Unnnnggghh!

So there.)

Anyway, I don’t know what’s to blame for this condition. For whatever reason, I’m feeling listless. Apathetic. Checked out.

(I almost wrote ‘disenfranchised’, too, but that’s too fricking long to… aw, dammit. I just wrote it, anyway. Shit. Now I’m winded. That’s just peachy.)

Who knows — maybe I’m anemic or something. Or maybe I’ve got a parasite. Or maybe perky little bands of gnomes visit me in the night and steal my enthusiasm with their VerveSucker 3000 device. Could happen.

(Hey, I said I was apathetic, people — I can still come up with ridiculous paranoid fantasies, dammit. Trust me — when you’re me, that sort of thing really doesn’t take much effort at all.)

So, enough dithering here. I’ve got a big bunch of nothing to get back to, and then it’s off to bed. A good night’s sleep should help, eh? So long as the verve gnomes don’t come a-calling. I should really set up a trap or camera or something for those little bastards, just in case they’re real.

On the other hand, that sounds like frigging work. Screw it. Come and get me, ya mythical mother fuckers. I’ll be the one in the bed, sleeping till noon tomorrow, drooling on my ‘Pimp Daddy’ T-shirt. You wanna piece of me? ‘Unnnnggghh!

Permalink  |  4 Comments

4 Responses to “Just Let Me Sleep Another Twelve Hours, Okay?”

  1. MARYBETH says:

    Hi There,

    I really enjoy your extemporaneous writings.

    I don’t know your age group, but if this condition lasts more then a few may outa try a good daily vitamin, drinks tons of water, and if you do something that causes lots of sweating definitely add a good magnesium supplement to the hit list.

    Hey stop over and see some real neat pictures of the desert



  2. wlfldy says:

    Ok, you made me look it up… damn you.

    STICK IN ONE’S CRAW – “When you can’t swallow something, when it won’t go down, or you are loath to accept it, it sticks in your craw. The craw is the crop or preliminary stomach of a fowl, where food is predigested. Hunters centuries ago noticed that some birds swallowed bits of stone that were too large to pass through the craw and into the digestive tract. These stones, unlike the sand and pebbles needed by birds to help grind food in the pouch, literally stuck in the craw, couldn’t go down any farther. This oddity became part of the language of hunters and the phrase was soon used figuratively.” From the “Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins” by Robert Hendrickson

  3. Cassie says:

    You know, maybe you should find another job – something that makes you excited about life. Like, a stripper bodyguard or something. Or Big Bird’s assistant in maintenance – then you’ll know all the secrets.

    Regardless, to me it sounds like a definite lack of enthusiasm for life, so maybe you should review what’s in your life that could be changed.

    Plus, you’re still too young for a midlife crisis – so better make a good change now.

    I’m sure as hell not counseling you then.

  4. Kristie says:

    Do you remember when you were a kid? When you would think about what you wanted to do when you ‘grow up’? That utter excitement and fear? And the passion? Passion for everything! You imagined your life and KNEW exactally what it was going to be like… or not. You are not lacking motivation, you are not tired, you are not Mr. Anti-ambition… you are growing up. You are forgetting how to be a kid. Don’t take all of those laughs for granted. Wouldn’t you have died for one of those when you were ‘growing up’? Please don’t turn into a ‘grown up’. Teens like me need funny, half-insane adults like you. Think about what you wanted when you were a kid…

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