Aerosmith's Don't Want To Miss A Thing is playing overhead. Quick flashback to somewhere in the 90s. I can't place it. Ah, late 90s. Thanks Google. I'm trying to calm down and cool off in this cafe on Monivong Blvd. Come join me in silence preferably and watch the world go round. Maybe next time. My left tricep is twitching uncontrollably. Has been for the past couple of days. Has a heartbeat of its own. Word of the day is fasciculation — a brief, spontaneous contraction affecting a small number of muscle fibers, often causing a flicker of movement under the skin. It's not really brief though, unfortunately.
Finishing off the rest of my bubble tea
embarrassingly trying to suck up the last of the tapioca pearls who are playing
hard to get among the enormous chunks of ice. I definitely don't want anyone
taking my picture with my lips wrapped around a fat straw puckering desperately
for one last "ball" to shoot up and hit me in the back of the throat.
It must be done nonchalantly. Act as though you don't really care if you get to
chew on one more belly-bloating ball of tapioca as you violently stab the straw
into hard-to-reach corners of your glass hoping not to look ridiculous while
noisly slurping up milk that is no longer there. I shouldn't be drinking
cow pus anyway — as I clear my throat. Weak moment.
A white guy just walked by outside sans shirt flaunting stuff he didn't even have. Relatively young guy. It's pretty hot, but the city isn't really the proper place to get a suntan. There are some weird mofos in Cambodia. I'm not talking about the locals. Most of them can be found in or around Golden Sorya Mall on any given night imbibing jug upon jug of Angkor draft, but can also be found perusing the aisle of the local Pencil supermarket or stumbling down street 136 near the riverside. The last stop for some of these folks. The train doesn't go any further. To the detriment of Cambodia, however they do offer some entertainment value. That being said, there are also some very cool folks here.
Don't Want To Miss A Thing is playing again. I'd put in the earbuds, but I've overplayed my own music lately. Trying to hear my own heartbeat, my exhalations and the flicker in my tricep. Fortunately the music is not overbearing and there is a cacophony of other noises from the chatter of employees and other patrons, the opening and closing of refrigerated display cases, the clattering of utensils and the barely audible rumble of motorists outside. I used to like Aerosmith back in the day. Janie's Got A Gun got me into music back in junior high school. Damn, that was a long time ago.
Back to the present. Don't want to relive the past. Just got distracted by a Vietnam Cupid email. The dating site that will not go away. I suppose it's a welcome distraction as I only have to deactivate or delete my account. Or just simply unsubscribe. Or mark the sender's email address as "junk." But no, I can't do that. I like the email and seeing if any of the eight photos will entice me enough to click through to their profile. Usually there's at least one. I still haven't forgotten, from various dates long ago, that pictures can be very deceiving. Especially just headshots and those using some kind of filter. I forgot my rule of "always using the webcam" before meeting in person on several occasions.
It's time to make a break for it. Head home with a walnut baguette so I can do precisely what I don't need to do — eat more food! What else is there to do when you're as unproductive as a 100MB Zip Disk hidden away in someone's shoebox in 2014? You have to pass the time somehow. The only problem is sometimes, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, eating becomes a bit obsessive. For me anyway. I haven't eaten much today, but I probably don't need the aforementioned baguette laden with carmelized onions, bell peppers and garlic, a couple fried eggs, stuffed with sprouts and wetted with an ample dousing of both soy and a sweet spring roll sauce.
I went out last night with the intention of hearing some live music. But first, I needed to eat. That much had been decided. Before I left, I had a couple Jager bombs to kickstart the party. It wasn't Red Bull, but something similar and only a little to tame down the herbal flavor. I went down to Street 51 at about 9:30pm, but Katy Peri's Pizza had yet to open. What to do now? I strolled into Sorya Golden Mall and had a couple drafts at the beer garden. After some brief chit chat with a waitress and another customer I went back to visit Katy Peri. Som Naang was at the oven and as a good businessman seemed pleased to see me. I ordered a small "magherita" and a rum & coke.
The rum & coke was strong and cheap, as usual. The pizza came out insanely fast, which led me to believe it was intended for someone else, but I was the beneficiary and could not complain. It was insanely good. I alternated the Tabasco with every other slice to not overburden my tongue while eating at a brisk pace so I could finish before the deaf kid came back to mooch for a slice. Just in time. I lingered a little to let the rum kick in and ponder my next move. I soon found myself at a riverside bar ordering another rum & coke before I returned home (alone) and devoured a heaping bowl of granola. Barely resisting the urge to pour a second bowl, I brushed my teeth, hopped into bed and tooted, as my nephews say, all the way until morning.
I've been eating a lot more than normal lately. And going to the gym more. And feeling like the meathead I didn't think I was back in the day I was one. That was a long time ago. It's because I have time — too much of it. I want to be doing something, but what? That is the eternal question that pesters me wherever I go and gnaws at my soul. Just spell it out for me already. I know now that it is not going to fall out of the sky and land in my lap like I've always wanted. It's hard to be proactive when you're not sure what stones to start turning over. And when you're not a particularly take-charge kind of guy. I haven't given up and I won't, but for now I'll settle for just being a productive member of society. Even if that means feeling like a robot and selling my soul, just a little. Tired of feeling unproductive. I feel guilty, but also a little jealous as I watch others toil in the hot sun. At least they're doing something. At least doing something will stave off the insanity — for now.
