Three A.M. or Four

Second night at home--woke at 3:00 a.m.  Couldn't get back to sleep, my mind full of worry, my body full of anxiety.  Got up at 4:00.  So much for the "happy return."  

So much to do; so little time.  

Or, as they say, "The mind is a terrible thing."

How to shut it off?  

"Focus on your breath."  

That helps.  

But not for long.  

I'm running with the wrong crowd.  Suddenly my ex-wife is popping up in conversations.  She's a wealthy socialite now.  I love that disparaging term.  When we were married, she was a liberal hippie girl.  Now she runs with the country club crowd.  

"Running out of money and time."  

I should say.  There's the problem.  That and Trump World.  

I need to be more productive, but the things needed to be done are overwhelming me.  

"Tackle one job at a time."

Yea.  I should complete everything just before I die.  I lie in bed and wonder how many years of my lifespan were cut off by the injuries from my accident.  I rub my hand over my broken rib cage, uneven, swollen with arthritis.  Scapula, shoulder, clavicle.  

Maybe try two things a day.  

I got my gold tooth put on yesterday.  I have two now.  Two gold teeth, both molars.  It confuses me, really.  Gold is a soft metal.  How do gold teeth last?  

At 3:00, at 4:00, I tell myself I will quit drinking again.  Maybe, I think, that is why I am not asleep.  But I know I'm partially kidding myself, too.  There are other reasons.  I've been coloring outside the lines all my life.  

"How's that working out?"

I went to dinner with Tennessee last night.  We split the check.  Eighty bucks.  Each.  We rode in his $100,000 truck.  My 2005 Xterra is falling apart.  

My mountain buddy called me yesterday, the ex-broker who quit when he had enough money.  He does o.k., but he talked about the market and Trump.  

"I asked the sixty million dollar man how much he had in the market," I said.  "Millions, he replied.  Are you moving it?  No.  It always comes back."  

Investors rarely do better than the big mutual funds which yield eight to ten percent in the long term.  Warren Buffet has moved a lot of money out of the market.  Where in the fuck do you put that much money?

"He has a lot of cash on hand.  He'll wait and buy once the market goes low."

My mother, like most people, has never put money in the stock market.  She buys CDs and has safely earned five and six percent on her money, about sixty percent of what mutual funds averages long term.  She never worries.  

My academic friends who have put their money into 401 ks are looking every day with fear and dread.  They, like me, are poor.  Not poor.  Just living on the edge.  You don't make money in academia, but your friends are all academics like you, so you don't notice as much.  

I never invested in those four-oh things.  

"C.S. always invested in the present," someone who knew me for a long time once giggled.  It was true.  

"How's that working out?"

Every woman I have ever loved is married to bigger money now.  They drive nice cars.  

You tell me.  

So I sit in the dark waiting for the sun to come up.  Maybe then I'll go back to bed.  

"I thought you were going to quit writing about yourself."  

Oh. . . I made a mistake yesterday.  The crust of that great pizza was not naan.  It was lavash.  They are close to being the same thing, but not quite.  

Just to clear that up.  

When I was younger, I didn't really need money.  Isn't that a hoot?

"Hey. . . let's hang out."