Rock Bottom

I won’t lie to you, friends—I’ve been a little down lately. But there’s good news and light shining at the end of the tunnel, because I just realized I’m a week—week and a half tops—from absolute rock bottom!

Rock bottom! I shouldn’t even talk about it, really, don’t want to jinx it, but it’s too exciting not to share. I’ve been working towards this for a long, long time, and part of me can’t believe it’s really happening. Like I haven’t earned it, like I’m not good enough for such a gift.

What’s so great about rock bottom? Well, no more shaving, to start. I can finally let my facial hair grow as thick and wild as I please without having to worry about appearing ‘professional’ or ‘respectable.’ Not having to shave is also going to free up a lot of time, and I’ll need that for all the sitting around being spaced out and glazed over I’ll be doing.

Don’t think I’m going to be spaced and glazed at home, though. This is rock bottom we’re talking about, not depression. I’ll be doing my spacing and glazing in public as much as possible. At Starbucks, the library, Barnes and Noble, anywhere people go. Oh, how they’ll look at me and wonder, “Is that guy okay?” “What’s the story with that guy?” “Is he breathing?” The trick is to get them worrying about you and then slowly, slowly turning to the person and making direct, sustained eye contact. The kind of eye contact where you expose the darkness that dwells within your soul and project some of it into theirs.

It’s important to shake things up, of course—you can’t just space out all day, you have to parse that time out so it doesn’t get stale. So what I’ll do is alternate between that and trapping strangers in obsessive, one-sided conversations. I’ll have to choose a topic, something I can be alarmingly fixated on…and I don’t know why, but I’m thinking I might go with David Bowie. I’m hardly a fan, to tell you the truth…I like a handful of songs…I guess it just seems like Bowie is the kind of icon that someone at rock bottom would get hung up on. I’ll have to read up on Bowie a bunch so I can fit him into every possible conversation, of course. “Excuse me, do you have the time?” “Ha, good one. Oh wait, you really want to know. Sorry, I though you were referencing this alternate version of ‘Changes’ were Bowie blah blah blah whatever.’ Like that. You get it. The idea is to come off as desperate for connection with another human being, only unable to accept that connection on any terms other than my own.

And oh, how little people will expect of me, once I’m at rock bottom. That’ll be nice. Example, right now pre-rock bottom if I go into a Starbucks I’m expected to make small talk with the person at the counter. If the person at the counter wants small talk and I don’t reciprocate, I’m an asshole. Once I’m at rock bottom, though, I won’t have to worry about it. After dealing with me once they’ll know better than to engage with me less they want a Bowie lecture, first of all, and secondly, what with the scraggly beard and spaced out look, no one will find me even a little bit approachable. And if I do bother to offer the slightest possible polite gesture, it’ll seem like a big deal! If someone sneezes and I say ‘bless you’ it’ll seem like I’m bending over backwards!

I guess I will have to look out for other people that want to talk about Bowie. You know what I’ll do? If I meet someone who wants to talk about Bowie I’ll get real aggressive and territorial, make sure they know it’s my thing.

If I’m being honest, I’m also looking forward to all the attention I’ll get from people who’ll mistakenly believe they can help or ‘fix’ me. That’s going to be sweet. They’ll let me talk about myself all I want, they’ll make themselves available in ways that they’re not completely comfortable with…I’ll act like I don’t want to be a bother, of course. “Oh,” I’ll say, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” But I’ll say it with this flat, desolate tone, as if I’m speaking to them from the bottom of a well that I’ve given up on ever climbing out of.

God, I’m shaking right now. Anticipation. Adrenaline, too. Hopefully getting both of those things out of my system, since there will be no room for them at rock bottom.