I haven't been having an easy time sleeping as of late. The chicks are noisy and needy, I can't turn on the air conditioner because they still need the heat, and I am heat-intolerant. Bad combo. So last night, after some tossing and turning, I decided, fuck it, I'm going outside for a smoke.
I keep this pack of Parliaments in the utility drawer. I call it my emergency pack, and it is probably 2 years old by now. Usually when the temptation strikes, it's enough for me to just open the top and take a whiff. But this time I grabbed one, along with the barbecue lighter. And since I was going to smoke, hell, I'm going to have a drink too. I downed two shots of rum and headed outside.
Oh lordy! That was a good cigarette. But I was obviously out of practice. My head was spinning, so I lay down on the bench of the picnic table, staring at the sky. It was a warm, still night and I was very comfortable lying there, occasionallly reaching down to scratch Maggie's ears. I listened to the crickets chirping and breathed in and out in rhythm. I saw the airplanes pass overhead and imagined the exotic places they are heading towards. I decided that this time I wasn't envious; we've created a nice space here, with our vegetable garden and our fruit trees, and I haven't taken the time to enjoy it in a while. And just to show them how little I cared, I flipped them off, one by one.
I do silly little things like this quite often. I am the meekest rebel I know, but the need to stick it to The Man is definitely there. These tiny acts of rebellion crack me up, because they end up hurting no one but myself. The Man and the Fates don't give a damn what I do.
But at least last night, I was able to lie down and look at all 12 stars and not have to think about my obligations or anyone else's obligations. All I had to think about was finding the next airplane to flip off. It hit me then, that this is such a privilege, and a rare one at that, although it doesn't have to be: it's my prerogative as a contributing member to society. I work, I pay my taxes, I keep my nose clean. I have every right to lie down on MY bench, in MY backyard, wearing NO pants, destroying MY lungs in the manner I have chosen. Part of me IS The Man, and being The Man means I have some resources to spend as I wish. THAT is punk rock!
(from Stuff No One Told Me)
Now pardon me while I go buy $2 worth of sugar-free chocolate, then give $5 to my neighborhood homeless guy. FIGHT THE POWER!
