Predicting the future
I turned off the TV. When they are re-running cooking shows and the TV news sounds like a re-run, it’s time to find a new form of entertainment.
I finished the book I was reading and went looking for another. Nothing piqued my interest.
I came in the office to write and had nothing about which to scribble. I almost gave up and stared at the wall when I thought of something.
When you aren’t interested in anything anybody else has to write, read yourself.
Thing is, I only write here and at work and none of that is too interesting. However, I spent five years in college and I kept a journal for much of that time. That, my friends, while not very good writing, is darned interesting. Well, it’s interesting if you’re me, anyway.
So, I’ve spen the last hour and a half flipping through journal entries held together in those old black and white composition books. I’ve been though the girlfriends, the depression, the substance abuse, and some really funny entries written while on a spontaneous road trip to Chicago.
One entry though made me raise my eyebrows. The first line: “I haven’t been sleeping much recently.”
That, my friends, is not just a blast from the past. It’s today. It’s tonight. It’s right friggin’ now.
Not that you care, but I thought I’d put in the entry from February 15th, 1995. Nearly eight years have passed since then and in the journal entry I was making a ten-year prediction for myself.
2/15
I haven’t slept much recently.
There are a couple of hours I can sleep on a regular basis. If six a.m. comes around, sleep is often required. That will usually last ’til eight–then the day begins again. Since Sunday I have had probably ten hours. I have become an ephedrine and caffeine junkie. Last night, somwhere around 3AM, I found myself cleaning my room at a sweat-breaking pace. My grades are good…my heart, lungs, eyes, and mental stability are falling apart. There is a beautiful German girl sitting three feet from me.
I think I am hallucinating.
So, when it all comes down, say ten years from now, there will be one thing that will convince the jury to believe me insane.
“So, you can see, ladies and gentlemen, as much as ten years before Brad ate the sauteed pituitary glands of the U.S. legislature, he was already destroying his brain with stimulants and half-baked attempts at journalistic grandeur.”
“I object. The defendent never mentioned journalistic grandeur in his writings.”
“Sustained”
“But, your honor, the simple fact that he was writing–”
“Counsel, may I see you at sidebar?”
“FUCK NO! Your honor, my client is a fucking psychotic–anyone who would use peppered blood as an ingredient in a Bloody Mary–”
“Objection, your honor. The pepper was actually in the vodka–the blood was just added for color.”
“Sustained. Madame Reporter, strike that.”
“YOUR HONOR! My client spent six years trying to figure out how to make an 8 square foot loaf of bread. When he finally achieved this goal, he cut it into slices, kidnapped the late Mr. Ted Kennedy, and ate him on a sandwich with mustard and mayonaise.”
“Mustard and mayonaise?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“This is indeed a pained man.”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Kennedys are typically served w/ cream cheese.”
“And that is the prime reason my client should not be held accountable for his actions.”
“I agree, case dismissed.”
I’d like to think a lot has changed in my life since that time. But, I guess the only thing that has changed is that I was a lot more honest with myself back in those days.
Fortunately, that was a ten year prediction and 2005 seems like a long way away.
We can only hope that Mr. Ted Kennedy finds a way to avoid me until then.
