The Comfy Seat

Gotta write something. Keep the pump primed. Keep the momentum positive.

Take flight.

Got new tires for my truck today. Gonna take flight. Gonna ride over the grade, go valley to valley. And I’m taking the technicolor loveseat.

Got the shakes pretty bad tonight. Making typing really difficult. My thumb bats at the other one repeatedly, spasming over the spacebar. It’s quite distracting. Is it the Lithium? The Zoloft? The Buspirone? The Abilify? All of the above?

This life as a medicated bipolar ain’t so super. Sure, it beats being hospitalized. But I am constantly feeling around in myself, for my sense of “normalcy”. What can I expect on a regular basis when it comes to my behavior, my moods, my perspective on life as we know it?

Hard to say. Haven’t got an answer for that yet. Gonna have to paddle the best you can. Don’t know if you wanna fight the current or let it take you where it will… I guess it’s up to you. As long you take your medicine, that is.

They don’t have answers, these “experts” that we consult. They have maybe’s and perhaps’s, suggestions to try like new clothing. So far, nothing fits, and what does is uncomfortable.

So. I’m writing because it’s what I do. I am a writer. I leave notes wherever I go. Or I take notes wherever I go.

I’ve gotten away from who I am as I have gained experience in this circus we call “life”. I have tried to “make a living” and put my writing on hold because that was the advice that was predominantly given to me– get a job, a good-paying job, and then you’ll have time to work on whatever you want. Financial security breeds success.

But it didn’t quite work that way. Somewhere, on my way to happy retirement, I got pregnant with the idea that I need to write and write hard. I had to drop out and take care of this nascent life. It needs my undivided attention.

So anyway. I’m writing my way through the next several moments in my life, where I’m writing about what I’m planning on writing about. I need to get back to describing the technicolor loveseat.

Okay. So. My great-Uncle Tony was a music aficionado. He had a room in his house devoted entirely to listening to his record collection. His collection was so large that even with him listening to it daily, for a few hours on average, it would take him almost two and a half years to get through the entire collection.

In his music room he had an early edition pair of BOSE 901 speakers, along with some state of the art stereo equipment, and the technicolor loveseat. The loveseat has a pattern that defies description; It’s psychedelic on the one hand, but its color scheme is conservative– red, white, black & blue. But to sit on this beckoning piece of furniture is sweet symphony… So peaceful, so comforting, so soft.

When my Dad’s uncle passed away, I inherited the loveseat, and have had it with me ever since. I don’t know how many years Uncle Tony had it, although by looks it was probably born in the sixties or early seventies. I took it with me to college my sophomore year, and introduced it to a greater cross-section of the world.

That was more than 2o years ago that I packed it up and drove halfway cross-country to go to school in Grinnell, Iowa. And now it’s time to pass the mantle.

I’m going to take it to Escalon, for my nephews to get use of it as they move into their “new” place. I’ll be helping them move the bulk of their stuff from Riverbank.

Time for the loveseat adventure to expand to another generation. So long, soft friend.