The Story Of My Fucking Life


Posted by ilbebe on December 29, 2011

It is with astounding ease that we become invisible in this age. We can drink ourselves thin, or with the aid of the facebook, grow to a point imperceptible by people of the book. Of the book! Of the cloth, of the feather, who are these birds who flock together? What sort of able-bodied member of any flock could ignore the lamb laying down on 38th and Broadway?

Learning to disappear is a progression of the path begun with learning to be late. Disappearing is simply an extension of being late; i.e., disappearing is being so late that you never in fact return. The ability to disappear can quickly be modified into the ability to threaten suicide, and it can be wielded very capriciously if one does not keep a strong finger on their own pulse. It is damn difficult to keep your own pulse while strapped to a gurney and loaded into an ambulance which offers faint and unwelcoming odors of death, present death. A first encounter with living death, in which you must charge yourself with avoiding the ranks of the living dead.

I recently had a bad experience in a restaurant with my girlfriend B. The essence of what made the visit unpleasant was that we were routinely ignored throughout the duration of our stay. Sound familiar? You have a bad flight – have another! You have an unsatisfactory experience in a hotel room – come again! Your burger made you sick? Have another one! Right now! Here it is!

An immediate and caring response is practically the only thing that can resolve dire customer service issues. I have been a worker, and a supervisor, and a customer, and a foreigner. I have done my best to do what is right for everyone involved at the moment. When the most appropriate thing to do is to get a supervisor, that is what I have done in most instances. When there was a way to resolve the dispute more quickly by breaking policy, I have broken policy. I have broken the rules of the workplace, I have broken the rules of society, I have broken the rules of nature.

I would do it all again gladly if the reward was as treasurable as the one I have received: a life on my own terms. Fought for and won. Up and down left and right, entirely mine. Of my own mien. The product of my own accumulated change.

I have to remove myself from the fray occasionally. Things get too loud, too much static builds up. I must become invisible in a way similar to the way I have been treated invisibly too many times before, when I did not want to be treated thusly. I am okay with it now.

I shall continue to be.

You are welcome to join me.


–2:13AM Wednesday night/Thursday morning 12/29/11


3 Responses to “Sixty-two”

  1. Wait! How do I drink myself thin?!

    Hold on, I think I’m missing the point here….

    Joining you, my friend! Joining you. ❤

  2. ilbebe said

    What I meant by drinking one’s self thin was basically that sometimes when yr drinking a lot, you don’t eat enough, or you eat crummy stuff that doesn’t do much to restore you to health. I think the work yr doing on linking a more conscious diet to all of the sociological ills that lead too many people in our world to a steady diet of bad news and lousy food is groundbreaking. I admire you greatly, and I can barely wait to see what you’ve got in store for next year!

    Man, I am looking forward to whatever food yr cookin’ up for tonight. It’s gonna be a good party.

    See ya soon! Like, eleven hours soon….:)

  3. Love!

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