Down the Crazy River

I force myself to look in the mirror. There is no choice, the beard haters are just going to have to get used to a goatee. I had forgotten about how bad the razor burn gets when you are shaving barbed wire.

Robbie Robertson is playing in the background:

"I was feeling like a stranger in a strange land
You know where people play games with the night"

The skunk steak of white hair in the center of my chest has spread out over the top of my chest as well. When did that happen? And who's this guy with the crows feet and bags under his eyes? Jesus, I just turned 40. No wait, 50. Christ I'm 53! What happened to 45? I don't remember. No, wait. I remember 45. I almost died. How the hell do you forget something like that?

Death sitting on the hospital bed with me having a chat. I tell him, "I'm ready to go when you are." But he says, "No. Not today. But I'll be around when you need me."

Like I say, how do you forget something like that. But you do. You move on.

"Catch the blue train
To places never been before
Look for me
Somewhere down the crazy river
Somewhere down the crazy river"

The razor moves across my face. Scraping away white hair. Damn, I remember when it was black. Black beard and a mop of curly hair. Now, just some old bald guy with a white beard. Am I still in there somewhere?

Oh to be 20 again. No, not really. I don't miss that guy. What an asshole. Too scared, too eager to please.

"You know, I think I'm gonna go down to Madam X
And let her read my mind
She said "That Voodoo stuff don't do nothing for me."

I rinse the foam off the razor and back to scraping. Shaving is an art. Small strokes, touch test. It never comes out smooth. Not really. My beard is too coarse.

"You almost died", the physicians assistant tells me.

"Yeah, I know. They told me I could have died" I reply.

"That's not what I said,' she tells me, 'You almost died. We thought we were going to lose you."

Could have died. Almost died. Semantics. You hear what you want to hear. It was a shock. When I was lying there, I didn't care either way. I must have heard something though. I called my asshole of an ex from the hospital, who thought I was faking that I was sick. How do you fake jaundice? I was as yellow as a daffodil.


"I'm in the hospital.", I tell him. "The doctor told me I'm probably going to die. I'll give you a call if I live.", and I hung up on him.

"No, you almost died.", she told me. A flat statement that gives it a different reality.

"Catch the blue train
To places never been before
Look for me
Somewhere down the crazy river
Somewhere down the crazy river"

Way too much drama for first thing in the morning.

The razor moves around my face in small strokes, avoiding the irritated area on my chin. I maneuver the razor over the growing wattle under my chin. How the hell did this happen? Shit.

I ignore it and keep moving the razor. Scrape, scrape, scrape. I clean off the upper lip. Careful of the birthmark. That always bleeds like a son of a bitch if I knick it.

I rinse the razor off, washing aways foam and stubble. Better get the hair off the ears as well. Ain't the aging process grand?

Time to push all these thoughts away. It's another day, and I have to go to work.

"I'm a man with a clear destination
I'm a man with a broad imagination
You fog the mind, you stir the soul
I can't find, ... no control"

I inspect my face. It'll have to do.

I find myself shivering a bit. The temperature dropped over night and you could store furs in my apartment. No time to stand around naked in my bathroom, still slightly damp from the shower. I towel off my face and pull out some clothes and start to get dressed.

"I'm a man with a clear destination
I'm a man with a broad imagination
You fog the mind, you stir the soul
I can't find, ... no control"

It's another day.