Its late, 12:31 AM on Saturday. I just left my bar tending job at Renegades. I usually work there on Friday nights and the first Sunday of the month for club "Butch" the bear club. Even though I'm tired from working all day at the salon, I really do not mind working at the bar on Friday nights. As long as I leave around midnight, I'm happy to be there because I get to work with Vince and I get to see all the regulars. Its a local, neighborhood bar that serves great drinks at a low price with no frills. Its a true bar-bar. Nothing fancy, a pool table, some pinball machines, darts and a smoking patio.
What makes Renegades so great is the fact that no one really judges you by your looks, your clothes, your hair or your shoes. There is a big picnic table out back and all the regulars sit around the table, smoking their cigarettes and discussing just about anything from politics to gay rights. Maybe they are one in the same. The table would be surrounded by some of the most unattractive men on the planet. Each with varying degrees of scirosis and lung cancer. Drinking and smoking away while discussing whatever current event or tidbit of news that made the headlines that week. I could walk out there to clean an ashtray, take a drink order or have my non-existent ass squeezed. Promises of love and marriage or hot sex from a bunch of genuinely nice, ugly men. I look forward to seeing them. Look forward to the familiar voices and faces. Somehow it just feels incredibly honest and sweet. I have my register and Vince has the main. He'd bark at me for spending too much outside smoking and that would be true. And while I truly worry that one of these guys will not make it to the "little shop of horrors" weekly round table, I sincerely worry when one is missing for more than a week. "Did she drive her plymouth off a cliff". Na, there's a true affection here and I'm always glad I showed up. Rarely do couples get the chance to work together. Vince is a master bartender. Not only does he make a great drink, he makes a great listener, confidant, friend. I just step back, take orders and attempt to mimic him. I've always wanted to learn to bar tend. Sexy ya know. Well maybe twenty years ago when I felt the same. Its a job, tips are good and people look forward to seeing you. Cant complain.
So now I'm home. It's 1:12 am. Nows when the unexpected guest arrives. Depression with a capital D. MY depression is different than your depression. It's more pressing, more urgent. It screams "pay attention to me now goddamnit! :) Depression, the executioner of joy. The uninvited party guest. Depression steals the show.
Its not because its late, because I'm tired, because I get to spend the night in a place where people are trying to drink it away or go to bed with it. It's just there. Quiet and patient. Waiting for all the positive thoughts to vanish into ether. Foreboding and omnipresent. This blog entry is not meant to be sad or, depressing. HA! It's meant to shine a light on what is always there, somewhere. I grew up with it, my family suffers it, most of the world experiences it. So alas Im not alone. What I'm writing about is really just to publicly acknowledge it. "Hey everybody Lonnie gets depressed"! Trying to take the teeth out of it so it doesn't eat me. I think depression moves across all socioeconomic borders. Come on, you can't tell me Paris Hilton wasn't depressed when she landed in the slammer. Without her cute lap dog. Even if it was for a minute. We all face it. Sometimes mine is just a stinker. But when it comes, it sucks all the potential out of everything. All the fun. During the day I can work to keep it at bay. Poke it with a stick if you will. But at night Im utterly defenseless. Vince can see it on me. I have no rational reason for feeling depressed. But then again, is it really about rationality?
I think my depression stems from my skill at making myself feel unworthy of love. Questioning every action and motive of anyone says anything nice. "How can you really like me?" "I'm really a fraud, a fake, a charlatan. When you figure this out you'll be out of here. My depression makes me feel unworthy of love. So the question is where and when do I let it go? At what point do I say to myself "hey, your a great guy"? And believe it. So complex, so simple. The brain is a powerful organ. There's much I'm still figuring out. I guess I'll just acknowledge it for now . It's all an illusion.
I've never written a blog before. Never put myself there for criticism. I'll wake up tomorrow and start over again.
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