Polka Music and Men’s Magazines

 

I went TDY to Great Lakes

and had a nervous breakdown

because I knew I was losing my job

when I went back, and I had a new baby,

and Brenda was at home, nursing him, and minding

his older brother.  I rented a cabin and bought a bunch of

Penthouse magazines, secondhand, with sticky pictures.

I lived on whiskey and bean dip.  I went on a three-week

running drunk.  I went to a bar where they had a live polka band.

I had chest pains and presented myself to a VA mental hospital

and was admitted to the medical wing for observation.  I had

essential hypertension.  That is, there was no somatic cause.

It was all in my head.  When I quit drinking, it went away.

They put me on a water pill that made my breasts tender.

Gynecomastia.  A side-effect.  Doctors are the children of

rich parents who want to be rich themselves.  Sometimes,

they’re stupid.  They are in thrall to the pharmaceutical industry.

The VA hospital wasn’t like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

so much as Off Magazine Street (A Love Song for Bobby Long).

I used to drink in a bar in Biloxi with the wet-brain drunks from

the Old Soldiers Home.  Low bars and mean companions, as John

Berryman says.  Arthur Miller says the theater is in the hands of triflers

who need the towering rebuke of O’Neill’s life and work and agony

to refresh and renew it periodically.  The Iceman Cometh.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night.  My work here is nearly done.

 


 

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