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Gym Grandpas before/after
The gym, for some reason, is always a trip. I have always shunned and avoided most contact at any gym to which I've belonged. The conversation is as dull as a toothache. Plus there's so much weirdness. Like the guy who likes to spot people doing standing squats. He spots everybody. And he stands one inch behind, squatting up and down with his victim, with his paws on their lats. This is something I never wish to be a part of , and as such, avoid most exchanges with the other neanderthals. People have been drawing me out. The natives are curious. It's a static bunch, few new faces, really. Just the same old die hards. And every wednsday, the bike girl. She is sooo tasty. As I walked past her class while they were stretching on break, I heard one girl murmur to another, while watching me,"That guy is SO hot." Lucky me. I think Bike Girl got jealous, so I exploited it by flirting with a hottie in her class on the way out. Succulent. You'd think as I get older, and the girls I chose to fool around with get older, the game playing would drop off a bit, sort of like an inverse proportion, but no, it just seems to get thicker, like a burgeoning crowd gathering in ethiopia around a afternoon relief drop. I fucking hate games. The only time I play games, is when someone else opens up with them. Its so much like poker. I kick ass at poker. And having pyschology as one of my majors in college doesn't hurt, either. Being a group therapist for awhile continues to pay dividends. Sick, sick, sick. There's this old guy at the gym who is a real inspiriation. Has diabetes, was taking massive amounts of injected insuln three times a day to control it, but with diet and excercise, is off the insulin. He competes in something like geriatric olympics or some shit. Says he has a wall full of trophies. That stuff, I could care less about, but the inspiration of him managing his health so well in his sunset years, I feel there is a lesson to be learned there.
Went to a funeral on Tuesday. Funerals just blow. Even when you don't know the dead guy. I've gone to too many in my life already, and quite a few where I simply paid respects to a friends fallen, or co-workers deceased relative. Whatever. And me, being the type of person I am, tend to have fun wherever I go, much at odds with the funeral schema. I tend to feel self-concious cracking jokes and laughing at these "other" funerals. Went with my brother, and we were laughing a bit, fucking around. Meanwhile, the tears flowed around me. Greif is such an odd emotion. Everybody expresses it and works through it differently. I had a kid once, just got him that day while I worked as a group therapist, and I had to take him to his grandma's funeral, meet his family, see his grandma's corpse. I think it helped build rapport. They stowed her in the same mausoleum that my mom's side of the family is interred. I went and visited the place where my grandpa' is interred. Little did I know that a few weeks later, my grandma' would be joining him. Eerie. They say i take after my grandpa', which I take as a compliment. We've similar features, and I believe, some similar traits. Grandpa' had alzheimers , though, and lived to be 88. One night he bolted from his house, this is when we knew he was fading, and was found walking down the side of the road, mumbling something about, "...Going home." I look back now and wonder, since before he got with grandma' he was a mac-daddy, apparently, did he wake up in a panic that night, with his heart pounding, sweaty, in a serious state of confusion, not knowing where the hell he was, thinking he was in some random girls room, late at night, something he hadn't done since forever, thinking, "MY GOD!', I'm MARRIED. WHAT am I DOING!?" Except for the marraige part, I've had the unfortunate experience of not knowing where the hell I was at when I awoke. Usually it was after a hard night of partying, and I was in my (then) girlfriends bed. Its happened with several different paramours. And sadly, there's been times I woke in my own bed, alone, not knowing where the hell I was. I guess it doesn't really bother me, considering my fucked up sleep patterns, and all too vivid nightmares. Sometimes I really think I'm somwhere else when I wake up, due to the graphic horror my subconcious, or the collective subconcious, or what ever spirits that haunt me choose to put me through. I've grown blase to it, but not numb. I wish I could be numb.
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