Ch. 13
I fell out of love with her again. Denise more specifically. Can one do that truly? Fall in and out of love as the days go in their passing. I had a habit of doing this with her. Actually I did this a lot… with every girl. I guess I just have this idea of that perfect girl I’ve been talking about with you ever so often and keeping ever present in my mind’s eye.
See it’s not that people don’t meet this standard. It is in fact quite the opposite. I beg them to be that standard of perfection I hold in heart. For even if I catch a glimmer of her in the eyes of another, I viciously impress the rest of my dream upon them. I wish so fervently for it to be so. For her to be and to be with me. To fall in love with Denise was to fall in love with the dream I made of her, and therefore not her at all. To fall out was but to realize she was not her, and this brings a pain I dare not face though so willingly I impart it to be. Denise was a dream and she knew she could never be real for me. She could never love me the way I wanted to love her. She knew this. I knew this, but nonetheless the dance in and out of love waltzed on into continuance. It reminded me of this poem I once read in high school. It went something like this:
Lost in my heart, In dreams of you
in dreams of you, my heart is lost
but can love lie, in dreams of you
Lost is my heart, My heart is lost
I read that poem and am shown my own countenance. For I dream and I slumber and have yet to wake… I was damned to good times and blessings in my end that I can say in the least. Shit my entire life was a blessing. I had never known turmoil, at least concerning the necessities, but yet I did suffer. Disease can do that to a person. It can dim the brightest lights and make of life a dreary mess. It will make a dark and awfully dreary world for ya if ya let it or can’t help from letting it. Death by internal firing squad if death itself from natural causes wasn’t enough to boot. The mind can be so heartless to one’s own heart and cease its beating from ever producing a viable sound. I bore such scars to bear witness. Their testimony was ever present on flesh and soul alike. Yes, I bore the scars of my humanity in red ink upon my skin and o’ what a tragedy doth faded red and purple paint. A sunset that I never wanted. A sunset that won’t ever go away. Not the sunset that I yearned for, but the twilight I so hate.
And it was fucking real now. Pure internal epiphany birthed through righteous music via the magic of Maggot Brain by Funkadelic. The sweet Hendrix inspired solo pierced through the embers of the joint we now passed as explosions of consciousness took fucking place. Not too soon to follow, I pushed some sweet speedy sugar up my nostril. Sniff, SNIFF , lil sniff BOOM! There we fucking go!!!! The scene was set to the vibrations of the universe and I was in the front fucking row to it all. Well me and Chancey were at least. Clefus was sleeping off an ambien and xanax binge that he had been on and off of for a couple of days… well maybe closer to a week, but that’s neither here nor there I guess.
There were two freshmen here at my place as well. What the fuck they were doing with a bunch of drugged out seniors I’ll never know. Maybe the glamor of hanging out with the old fellows was alluring to their young minds and virgin like tolerances. Maybe it was the occasional free drugs they got. Who knows. The best I hope is that we weren’t corrupting them. I don’t know if everyone should exactly accept my motto of living unto death because drugs are fun, but there is never a need to consume them at the rate we, especially myself, were. Ah then came in Trevo and Corey!!! God I have grown to love those fuckers! O’ MY FUCKING GOD is that what I think little trev trev has in his hand???? My mother fucking gal LuCy. Fuck class tomorrow, I know exactly what I’m doing. Trip my balls of to the Foresian Nebula where the universe is one and God smiles abundantly upon his children!
As we all gathered round the living room, waiting so eagerly for the drug to enact its theatrics upon our consciousness, I look over at Trevo. He had a smile on his face, but I knew he wasn’t happy. Hey Trevo you want to go out a smoke a cig, I asks him. Uh ya sure, he says to me, a little confused. You mind if I come, chimed in Corey. You know I kinda need to talk to Trevo for a second Corey, but after that you know I’m more than happy to burn one with ya, I says to him. Ok, he says, a little between let down and equally confused as Trevo was. Me and Trevo exited to the back of my townhouse unit. Out from the living room and through the sliding bay door we went. As we pulled up two of the ratty ass chairs leaning against the crumbling wall, I pulled out two cigs for us. As we both set flame to tobacco, a moment of silence set in as we both gazed up at the stars above. Ya, it was safe to say the acid had kicked in, because the lights above began to twinkle as if morse code was being exchanged between distant friends. Sooo, Trevo says to me. Sooo, I says with a laugh. I’ll cut to the chase I guess, I says, as I take a long slow draw from my cig. How ya doin bud, I asks. Ya alright? Ya I’m ok, he says to me, as he turns his gaze from stars to mangled ground. I pause for a moment now turning my eyes to him. You don’t have to be bud, I says to him. His stare makes its way to mine at a somber pace.
What do you mean, he asks me. Corey told me about your dad getting cancer, I says to him, as I begin to look upward. Oh ya man, I’m ok, he says to me. A little shaken up, but that is to be expected I guess. Ya, I got ya man, I says. Well if you ever want to talk bud I’m here for ya. Having been on the other side of this I know it’s rough, but it’ll be ok, I says to him. Thanks man, he said, as his gaze joined mine to the horizon. It may seem odd that I was trying to console another concerning a disease that would show no kindness to me, but I really believe his dad would push through it. The disease can’t take all of us can it? Some of us had to push through to the other side where life relays a new abundance upon our eyes. Where our own feeble bodies resist the demise to live and fight another day.
I figured, though the conversation didn’t progress any further, that he felt a little better knowing that I was there for him, or so I like to think. Maybe this might be a case when my sins might not be so sinful. That my lie might not be so wrong. That in the tale I have spun of a false recovery in the making Trevo might have hope for a moment for his dad. But I knew, even as nice of a thought as that may be, it to would only be another lie self serving as all lies are. It would only function to make me feel better in my guilt so seering. For when the truth finally came I knew any hope I may have given him would too crumble as I lay dying. That I wasn’t looking to help him, but was only there on my own accord. No... there was no escape from my own doings. There was no escape from what I had done. I must despair, for despair is what I am. Despairing that I could not take the self I am from existence and birth forth the self I wish to be. I am dying with no venture other than to meet my fate. To die and confront the calice mystery of abyss or life to be.
I cranked the dial of my little radio in my little fucking fiesta all the way up. I cranked the mother fucker because the one and only Howlin Wolf was whispering in the background, and that just won’t do. The Wolfman blares raspy rhythmic musings or he does not play at all. Not at least while I’m around. The Wolfman does not whisper. No the fuck he does not I tell ya. His ballads hit to close to my own vicious vitality to be quieted. As I became lost in another time, a timeless time when things were right in their wrongness, I began to despair as I mentioned before. My life wasn’t on track. My path was anything, but straight. I wandered from place to place. Drug to drug. Not woman to woman though. I didn’t have very much of that at all in my life not counting my fanciful romantic, yet very imagined relationship with Denise. O’ how the unreachable fruit looks so glorious to these eyes of mine. I guess the same could be said about Franky to a certain extent, but that was for much different reasons.
Anyway, so the music was blasting, the windows were down, the cigs were lit and I was driving with Chancey… well Chancey was driving me. I’m not a big fan of the whole driving a mobile metal death box, let alone am I any good at it. We had just picked up some D R U G S along with 2 red bulls, a pack of delicious Marlboro 27s, and even more delicious gas station rib sandwiches. Ya, so what it’s probably been sitting under a heating lamp all day, and most likely contained the vile sort of shit that was guaranteed to make hot fumey bursts shoot out my bung hole, whatever. Kind of takes the fear of diabetes and gastro intestinal failure and throws it right out the fucking window. What’s next, I says to Chancey. Whatever the fuck you want buddy, he says to me. I’m dedicating this night to you. O’ aren’t I just the luckiest girl in the world, I said in a feminine southern tone. What the fuck you just say, he says to me. Uhhh nothing, I says, turning up the music ever so slightly. He just laughed and began to sing along. As we pulled up to my place, we both got out the car and began to descend those dreaded stairs that have attempted so many times to claim my life in there disastrous state. When the fuck are they going to fix this shit, I says to him. Dude come on, it’s the fucking village, you already know the answer to that mother fucking question, he replies. You’re right… Never, I says to him. Damn right, he replies.
So what do you want to do on this fine chilly night, he asks me. I thought about it for a second. Well there are multiple things we could do, I says. We’re obviously gunna do the drugs. Well no fucking shit, he says with a chuckle. I laughed as well given the redundancy of my prior statement. Well fuck, let’s see, I proclaimed, as if to the masses. 1) we could listen to an album, I says. Well that would depend on the album, Chancey replies. Very true, I return in favor. 2) We could jam out for a little bit, I continue. Ehh dude it’s like 3 in the morning and you know how JoJo gets with even the slightest fucking tweak of music while he’s sleeping, Chancey remarks. Also true, I says. 3)... Well fuck of course we’re going with 3) I says.
What the fuck was I thinking. Walk, Chancey says, with a big ole dumb smile. O’ fuck ya, I says. Walk it is then boss man, he says to me. Walk it fucking is. See, if there is one thing above all things that me and Chancey enjoy to do in one another’s company, it was to take a shit ton of addy and go for a nice long fucking walk. Whether rain or shine we’d go on walks and talk at least once a week… well not rain I guess, but you get the point. It was a chance for us to escape this world and all of its trouble. To bask in but one another’s company, and the beauty that was Miami’s campus. I pulled out the good ole drugs and laid them out on the table. As I crushed them up into a fine powder Chancey picked up a guitar and began to let his fingers glide across the crisp newly bound strings. Nope. Nope. Nope, I says to him. You play that much longer and will never get the fuck out of here. To that you have a point my good, sir he says to me with a chuckle. You have dem drugs ready for consumption my friend, he asks me. You know it buddy, I reply. You want the big one, or the big one, I says to him, as I turn and shoot him a good ole druggy smile. Ah choices, choices, he says, as he sets his guitar leaning up against the futon. I don’t know bud. Dealer’s choice I guess. Dealer’s choice huh, I says to him.
Ok then I guess… well shit I don’t know either, I says, to which Chancey began to laugh. Let’s see eany meany miny... this mother fucker, I says, as I blocked my left nostril with the right one plugged with a makeshift snooter I had made out of a old pen. I lowered my nose to waiting line and snorted inward powerfully to elevate the fresh powder from a hopefully clean countertop. Sniff, Sniff. Cough, cough. Goddamn, Goddamn, I proclaimed in a Pulp Fiction like fashion, as I jerk my head up and pulled my nose to the sky. Good shit huh buddy, says Chancey, with a somewhat readying excitement about him. I don’t know. You tell me, I says, as I hand the snooter in his direction. After resisting to pick up his guitar one last time he slowly trotted over to the kitchen where I and a freshly cut line where waiting. Assuming the proper position, he bent his tall ass head down and proceeded to, in following suite, rail said line of drugs with an exemplary level of finesse. His head hovered quietly over the counter top for a moment as if taking his time to properly survey what he was sampling. Like an artisan tasting a fine wine he hovered silently for a moment’s stay. But this could only last so long, for as the drugs began to throttle through his coursing veins his head viciously jerked upward.
Well fuck me mother fucker, he says, eyes now wide open with teeming life. Good shit right, I says, tweaking a little bit already with energy unbound. Good mother fucking shit, he says to me in response. So how bout that walk, I asks him. You ready to adventure on? Uh ya I could run a fucking marathon right now if you really wanted to, he says, eyes still wide open. Goddamn that shit really hit you in the dome didn’t it, I says to him. Uh ya man, he says. Ya that it surely fucking did. One more for the road good buddy, I asks him, with a grin on my face. Well we probably shouldn’t… O’ who the fuck am I kidding, he says, shaking his head back and forth slowly progressing to the necrosis of sanity. Sure. What the fuck, go ahead and line them up mother fucker, he says commandingly, as new perception of drug induced madness takes hold. I thought as much, I says to him, still grinning. I thought as much, I says again. So after we railed a couple more lines, and padded up in jacket and sweatshirt, off we went. Off to rant and rave. Off to glow in the night’s glamour. Off we went into darkness with only our friendship to light the way.
As we stepped outside we zipped our jackets up tight, for the wind had kicked up a little bit since we had last been out and the chill of the night was starting to set in. We ascended the deadly stairs weary of any unseen precipitation that might have frozen over as the temperature continued to drop. God forbid we slip on any of that fucking shit for it would most definitely be the crippling of one of us. But as we made safe passage up to the road above and headed down Arrowhead Dr. to Walnut St. we could not help noticing that all the lights were on in Dick Fealy’s apartment, which lay at the end of the road. The lights themselves were slowly changing from purples to reds to blues to reds again as we made our way by. I wonder what the fuck he’s up to this late at night, Chancey asked in curiousity. Ehh one of two things I’m sure, I says to him. And what is that, he asks in return. Well he’s either 1) fucking some chick or more likely 2) fucking himself, I says in a quiet laugh. Truth, proclaimed Chancey. Truth, he says again.
So where to next, I asks him, as we made our way around the corner. Your call big dog. Like I said to ya earlier, it’s your night in the light, he says, while pulling out a cig and his lighter. As I mimicked him and did the same I pretended to think about where to go for a second, as to not seem to unreflective in the matter. Choosing your destination is key in any proper walk, at least it was for me and Chancey. For us it was more interesting to find a new way to arrive somewhere than merely finding a new place at which to arrive. I kept my charade of reflection up for a little bit longer, but I knew from the beginning where I wanted to go. How about we go to… You want to go to your spot don’t ya, he says, cutting me off before I could say it myself. Ya man. That obvious, I asks him. Not at all bud, he said to me, just laughing gently. Not at fucking all.
Why is love such a fanciful sight to behold from afar? But the closer I step the fainter it seems. The closer I step the darker my dreams. Olivia was texting me. God was she weird in the most wonderful ways. But I felt so remote to her because she seemed to care for me. Not in any romantic way I’m sure, but she seemed to actually care for me. O’ how the broken draw near to one another I guess. But I really don’t know. I really don’t fucking know if I can do it. Another person that cared. Cared for fucking me of all people. Yet another heart to be broken at the blind hands of a cancerous constellation that I have come to know in my own night’s sky.
She had just texted me. She wanted to know what I was doing. I don’t even know the answer to such a question. What the fuck was I doing? But nonetheless I responded as normally as I was capable of doing at the present moment. Wait, did she like me? Noooo. Nooo. Nooo. Girls like her, uniquely beautiful girls to be exact, weren’t into guys like me. At least I don’t think. Even if it were so, what more could it hope to become for love, true love, it could never be. Love gives life and I had so little left to give. What more could she be than another weeping spector to my grave in waiting… My grave grave condition and tears was all I had to offer that dame.
Is it not the greater sin to let love in? She texted me back. She was admittedly wandering around Oxford. God was she just not the most sensational. A true free spirit. A wanderer. A kindred soul. Should I not do right by her and make of myself the villain, the seducer, the culprit. Or was this not but me being a selfish man. Selfish with my love. For love gives life and I had so little left to give. She hasn’t texted me back yet. I wonder why she was wondering what I was doing? I mean it was a Thursday night, maybe she just wanted to go out and grab a drink. Knock… Knock... I heard at the door. I walked over promptly to answer it and see who was there, but JoJo beat me too it. Before I could even turn the corner into the hallway that led to my front door I heard JoJo russel down the stairs. Hey Olivia what’s up, he asks her. I’m guessing you got my text back. Ya, she says to him. Can we go somewhere private and talk. Ya sure lets go up to my room.
As they began to go up the stairs I peeked my head from around the corner half hoping to catch a glimpse of Olivia. Half hoping she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of me. As I slowly continue to move my head in that direction, and caught sight of her just reaching the stairs, we locked eyes. God dammit, I thought. She stopped and looked at me. It was but for a moment, but nonetheless our eyes did meet. And as soon as it happened, she quickly returned to following JoJo upstairs. What was going on? Why did she text me if she was just coming over to talk to JoJo. She looked sad. I’m sure I looked confused. What was going on? Why did she text me, I asked myself again. Was I but a second place option for her emotional confinement, I thought, almost bitterly. Don’t jump to conclusions, I thought to myself. Don’t ponder on things unknown or speculate that which was none of your business. Even if you were a second place loser yet again. Even if you weren’t to be the one to accept her tears and smiles. At least… At least you have me, a distant voice says from all around me. At least you have me my love...
Me and Chancey were on our way back from my family doc. Had to pick up the old ADD medication for me and the little bro Dugan, the youngest of the four of us. God knows he needed that shit. God did he have a heart of gold, even for an agnostic son of a bitch as he was. He was the kinda of kid whose tears rarely flow, but God what tragedy it was if they ever ended up doing so. What a tragedy was the thought that anything would burden such a loving soul as his. God did he love me too. Its an undeniable facet of being an older brother. You’re a hero to your younger siblings whether it shows up or not. They look up to you because they love you, even if they hate you at the moment. He ain’t going to handle this all too well, I thought to myself, as I had many times before. Its gunna hurt him deep. Soon I’ll be a memory for him. A picture and story to share with his kids. His kids. My nephews. Family that I will never know. I hope they turn out to be little bastards just like me. Damn that would make me happy. That way lil shits like me will always be fucking with him till the day his lengthy ass dies too. What a thought. Fuck. Anyway, here’s my letter to him.
Dear Dugan,
Do you know how much peace you bring to others through the stillness of your soul my dear little (big) brother? I ask you this question before I say anything else to you because I wish above all else for you to know what I think of you and the true blessing you are to all that are lucky enough to be near you. If you are reading this it might not be of the best of circumstances, but if it is because I am gone know this: I love you little brother, not in the past tense, but in the ever present now that I have ever so long wished to reside in. If death be my time know my love for you, for mom, for dad, for Bobby, for Z, and for all others that were family and friend, carries on without delay and will never cease to be. Enough of that though. I have to tell you something. Tell you something about yourself. Dugan god damn is your heart as big as the moon. It blows my fucking mind sometimes. Your capability for compassion, your empathy for others, and true christian love reaches farther than I could ever hope to imagine for myself. God has truly blessed you with the soul of a saint. And to this I firmly believe that no matter what comes to face you, whether sorrow or frustration, my lil bro will face it with love in his heart and a smile, though goofy as it may be, on his face. You have a gift that God bestowed upon you and have no doubt you could change the world or at least someone’s world with it. You sure as hell did with mine. Never stop smiling Dugan. Never stop laughing with the utmost joy. Never. I tell you never stop living a life of excitement, creativity, and servitude to others and in doing so you will never doubt you life was worth living. Live in action, hope, faith, and love dear brother. You are a genius in your own right. A corky goofball, but most of all a blessing. One of the many God has granted me in giving me a brother like you. Now even though I’m the oldest I will forever look up to your wonderful character as a principle of guidance, as a light I but wish to follow. Never stop loving Dugan and you will never cease to be and further become that wonderful you you already are. Dream big lil bro, but live larger. With deep love.
Your Brother,
Me