The use of multiple names is something I’ve done for a while now. Different name, different personality… whatever best suits the situation. However, it appears that in reality I have a few parallel slash former lives that are competing for my time and attention.
A few weeks ago I attended the Preakness. The races were incredible and now I have a fascination with horse racing. This is part of my work life. But my work life exists roughly two hundred miles from my actual life. This means I have a different set of friends, location and mannerisms. It almost feels dirty spending time in this world as it’s so far from my reality.
The fun of Preakness was quickly shattered as the me I’ve spent so much time suffocating with a plastic bag was forced to make an appearance. My uncle passed away after more than ten years of being ill. He suffered from a brain tumor which had triggered schizophrenia and giantism. So, not only was he crazy, but looked terrifying – like a cheap horror movie monster. My mother asked me to fly to Vegas and pick up the ashes with her. This I did without question. However, I have the emotional depth and capacity of a snail. I did the only thing to help my mother that I knew – took her to see male strippers and gamble. We had a great time and then made the drive to Utah.
Though I have no interest in the me that is dead, I do enjoy some of the people I’ve left behind. Mandee, with her new Scottish wannabe boyfriend. he showed me his dick when I asked what was under the kilt. It was pierced to my surprise, and in fact I think there may be just a touch of gay in that one. At least I’ve never known a sober straight man to whip his junk out for me. Then there’s Stay Lo, my always fun and willing to have a drink wife. Though we rarely talk things never change and we always have a great time. Last but not least there is my first wife Ray Ray. A hot mess til the day she dies, there’s no one so much like and unlike me in this world. A few days in a former reality and I was literally climbing out of my skin to get home.
Two weeks later when I actually made it home things slowly seemed to return to normal. This changed when two co-workers made an appearance. Holy crap, Asian people are friggin’ crazy. I swear this kid was stealing birthday cakes, spilling drinks on girls and throwing himself around the dance floor. I refuse to interject as I believe we are all capable of taking care of ourselves. In the end no one was hurt and there were hangovers for all.
As I sit in silence and enjoy the first free minutes in weeks, I wonder which version of me will win out in the end. Some of my other lives are definitely more entertaining than the frigid twat that I am, but could any of them sit here and deal with a toilet that won’t flush? I didn’t think so.