Some Days You Feel Like a Nut (Blog #209)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

Stop buying your own bullshit.

One Letter at a Time (Blog #208)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. And whereas it's just a single step, it's a really important one.

Each New Day (Blog #202)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

It’s enough just to be here.

The Night David Sedaris said, “Come Back to Bed” (Blog #76)

2 Comments June 14, 2017 CoCo

Today my friend Marla and I went on a writer’s pilgrimage to see David Sedaris in Tulsa at an event put on by Magic City Books. I can’t tell you how much fun I had. I mean, I really can’t. I’ve been sitting here trying, but it’s not working, probably because I only slept five hours last night, just got back from Tulsa an hour ago, and my brain is mush. But I’ll keep trying.

I woke up at noon today and had about an hour to get ready. Even though I knew the event would be outside and that it would be warm, I decided to wear jeans instead of shorts because I thought they looked cuter, and you never know when you’re going to meet Mr. Right or when David Sedaris will be so impressed with your pants that he’ll invite you to join him and his boyfriend for dinner. But thinking that I’d definitely sweat in the jeans, I slathered some of Dad’s Gold Bond Lotion all around my private parts. After I did, I thought, There’s probably a reason that stuff is in a green bottle, which is about the time my balls woke up. At first the eucalyptus just felt like a cool breeze on a spring morning, but then things stepped up a notch, and it felt like I’d used a peppermint suppository.

Marla and I got to Tulsa early, so we grabbed a great parking spot and walked a few blocks for lunch. Along the way we found two pink unicorns painted on a set of double doors, so we stopped and took a picture. I still I have no idea what was on the other side of those doors, but I can only imagine it was fabulous.

I broke all my food rules today. It felt great. For lunch I had a sandwich with white bread, creamy soup, and coffee with Irish Creme, immediately followed by a cookies-and-cream donut so big that it’s really a wonder I didn’t instantly become a diabetic. I even licked the bag it came in. Then Marla and I set up our chairs on the lawn where David was supposed to speak and went to a bar that I knew about because a guy once stood me up there on a night I had two tires blow out. (I was not impressed.)

The bar itself was really cool, and while Marla and I waited, I had two beers. Then we went back to the lawn to wait for David. Because my bladder is an overachiever, I had to pee for the second time in fifteen minutes, so I ended up buying a cup of coffee at a coffee shop because only paying customers could get the restroom code. Peeing is a patron’s privilege, apparently. (Say that five times fast.)

For the presentation, David spoke for forty-five minutes, mostly reading from his diary entries, many of which are in his new book, Theft by Finding. One of the stories he told was about a friend who–upon seeing a complete stranger on his or her cellphone–would often walk up beside them and say loudly, “Come back to bed, I’m freezing.”

When the talk was over, David moved across the street to an art gallery to sign books, and a long line began to form. Marla and I had pre-purchased books, which allowed us a spot in “Group A,” but we were still at the back of that section because–once again–I had to use the restroom. (To the guy whose kid’s asshole absolutely exploded in his pants, my heart goes out to you for all the hard work you did cleaning him up. In the future–for chafing–your son may benefit from Gold Bond Lotion, but I don’t recommend the kind in the green bottle.)

One thing I love about David Sedaris is that he takes a lot of time with his fans and doesn’t rush them off. It makes for a long wait–Marla and I waited over two hours–but I think it’s well worth it. Hell, at one point we saw a middle-aged woman sporting a sash that said, “Miss Emollient–Dark as a Turd.” Where else does that happen? I still don’t get it, so I assume she was seeking attention. But who isn’t these days? Anyway, the line snaked around once it got inside, so as Marla and I neared the autograph table, I was right next to this guy who had a PBS shirt on that said, “Be More.” (No pressure, right?) Honestly, it took everything in me to not say, “I’m doing the best I can, damn it!”

At the autograph table, David signed Marla’s book, “To Marla–You make me want to live again.” With others he drew cartoons–an ax with blood on it, something resembling a shovel. I have another signed book of his in which he drew an airplane–a crop duster, it says–a reference to a joke he’d made that night about a particular variety of farts. This is something I love about David, the fact that after all this time he’s still having fun, finding a way to make each person in line feel special.

I got to spend a few minutes with David and ask him a question about a statement in one of his books, as well as a couple of things he said in his talk tonight. I’ve been trying all evening to decide how much to say about it, since even though he’s probably already forgotten the conversation, it feels special to me and I’ll probably be processing it for a while. In short, David said that he doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, but instead likes to talk and write about experiences and opinions.

Fresh off three years of therapy (and writing a blog about it every night lately), not talking about my feelings feels foreign to me, so I almost said, “Oh my god, I know a good therapist.” But then I figured he probably knows one too and has a good reason for not talking about his feelings, especially to total strangers. Like, if I’d said, “WHY DON’T YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS, DAVID?” it probably would have sounded like, “Be More,” and he could have easily responded, “I’m doing the best I can, damn it.”

Thinking about it now, what I love about David’s answer is that it seemed vulnerable and honest, which is pretty remarkable considering the fact that he’d just met me (again for the first time). So I just looked him in the eye, smiled, and said, “Thank you,” and Marla and I walked out. I was so thrilled about getting to spend even a few moments with one of my writing heroes that I accidentally stepped on a stranger’s foot. (Sorry, lady.)

When we got outside, Marla made a joke, and I said, “What’s that?” and she said, “It’s what he wrote in your book.” So I opened the book, and there it was–“To Marcus, Come back to bed, I’m freezing.”

There was a lady working the event tonight whom I overheard a couple of times anxiously telling people in the line, “It’s a long wait, but it’s worth it.” When we got close to the table, she said, “See if you can’t hurry.” Well, we didn’t, and I can only assume that she felt pressured, maybe sensing that some people in the line were upset by the holdup. But I didn’t sense any of that from David. Marla told me that he’s been known to spend nine hours signing books. Personally, I wasn’t upset about waiting, and if I had been, I simply would have left. (My therapist says leaving is always an option.)

It all makes me wonder if David’s so patient because he waited so long to be published. Maybe it’s because he’s doing something he really loves and that makes it easier to go above and beyond with people you don’t even know. Either way, it encourages me to be more patient with what may come in my life, to not put so much pressure on myself or anyone else by thinking, Be More, Be More–Talk about your feelings! Rather, I can remember that I’m doing the best I can, damn it. In fact, we’re all doing the best we can. Especially that guy whose kid shit everywhere.

Realizing this, I think, is like having a lover come back to bed. Suddenly there’s no need to rush, the world feels safer than it did before, and if ever so slowly, that which was freezing begins to warm.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

One, Two, You Know What to Do (Blog #68)

2 Comments June 6, 2017 CoCo

A few years ago I had a chronic problem with my–ahem–prostate. I guess it wasn’t a serious deal, but it was super itchy down there, on the inside. (Aren’t you glad we can talk about ANYTHING here?) Anyway, my primary care doctor assumed it was a bacterial infection, and I think we went through five rounds of antibiotics to no avail over a several month period. Finally, I ended up with a urologist in Northwest Arkansas that didn’t require a referral, since the ones in Fort Smith do, and that process was moving about as fast as the return of Jesus Christ.

Well, the doctor was a miracle. (If you need a good guy “down there,” let me know.) Basically he stuck his finger up my butt, I said I felt like I should introduce him to my parents, and he said I didn’t have a bacterial infection. (That was easy.) He said that it was non-bacterial prostatitis, so don’t let anyone give me more antibiotics. Also, he said to wear briefs, take warm baths, and watch my diet. Oh, and he prescribed a pill for old people who have trouble peeing because he said it would help everything relax down south. (Apparently my prostate was “stressed.” Who isn’t these days?)

At some point during the prostate problem period (PPP), I read a book called It Starts with Food by Dallas and Melissa Hartwig. The book contends that we can–and should–do a lot of things for our health, but it needs to begin with what we eat. It recommends a reboot of sorts called The Whole30, which is thirty days of no grains, no corn, no sugar, no dairy, no legumes, no alcohol, and–obviously–no fun. (But really, you do get to eat several types of protein and plenty of fruits and vegetables.)

As you can imagine, a diet this strict can be pretty intimidating, but I decided to–as my therapist says–give it a whirl. And get this. Within two weeks, the prostate problem disappeared. In thirty days, I lost sixteen pounds, and about day twenty-eight, I felt especially lighter and more energized. I thought, Wow–THIS is what my body’s supposed to feel like.”

It’s time for some tough love.

They say that what goes up must come down, and apparently the reverse is true also. Slowly, I fell off the wagon–a pizza here, a pizza there–and my weight went up and the prostate problem returned. And then eventually, the problem calmed down on its own. (The body is so strange.) The last time I saw my doctor, I told him about the diet, and he said, “Well, I’m just going to give you a little tough love and tell you to eat better.”

Over the last few years, I’ve done The Whole30 a handful of times, and it always works. But it also takes a lot of focus, and sometimes it makes me light-headed because maybe I’m getting too few calories or maybe I’m getting too few carbohydrates. But again, it’s effective. The point isn’t to lose weight, but I always do, and weird health issues usually clear up or at least improve. I mean, this last January, after taking antibiotics, I had the body odor issues that I’m currently having, so I started a similar thing to The Whole30 called The Candida Cure. Within a week, my body oder returned to normal (which is quite pleasant I’ve been told). But then I had sinus surgery, took more antibiotics (shit happens), and–as the song goes–the cat came back the very next day.

Honestly, I hate the fact that there’s a relationship between what I eat and how I feel. I wish I could just take an old person’s pee pill or rub some magical cream under my armpits and continue to eat waffles, fried chicken, and chocolate cake for breakfast (the healthiest meal of the day). But the fact is–I know better. I’ve seen what clean eating, if only for a couple of weeks, can do for me.

For the last month, I’ve been telling myself that I need to clean it up again, but I simply haven’t had the energy. I mean, the dollar menu is SO EASY. Plus, I usually work things up to be a bigger deal than they actually are, like every decision, every food plan, is FOR-EV-ER. So yes, I’ve been resistant. But last night I stepped on the scale, and seeing that I was just a few pounds shy of a number I’ve never seen before, I thought, Oh hell no–it’s time for some tough love.

So tonight I went to the grocery store. (Notice all the fruits and vegetables.)

While I shopped, I kept wondering if I truly had the focus and energy to currently commit to healthier living. But then I remembered once a couple of years ago when I was in the same situation and my friend and workout partner Jim said, “You know what to do. You’ve done it before.” So I’m finding a lot of encouragement in that thought, the idea that I’m not having to learn this for the very first time. Already, there’s a part of me that’s like, Yeah, this feels familiar. (And hungry. It also feels hungry.)

I’ve had a similar experience regarding my emotional life since starting therapy. I don’t remember when it was, but one day I realized that I’ve been through a ton of shit–like a lot–including illnesses, deaths, heartaches–the big stuff. And even though none of it was easy, I’d made it, so I knew I was strong. Even now, I know I can handle whatever comes. I’ve got my life so far as evidence.

And really, compared to an ex who puts you in therapy, what’s a little spinach? (You can do this, Marcus.)

I’m telling myself that I’m not going to be a complete hard ass about the diet this time. When I woke up this morning (afternoon) I thought I was going to quit coffee today too, but when I got a headache two hours later, I thought, That part can wait. There’s a day next week when I’m going out of town to hear David Sedaris, and I don’t plan on eating out and having a salad. But I know my body is asking me for better, and I do intend to answer the call.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

[The title of tonight’s blog is partly inspired by my friend Jim’s statement and partly inspired by the Lindy Hop legend Frankie Manning, who used to say, “Uh one, uh two, you know what to do.”]