The doors should have been opened by now. I have no sense of how long I've been standing here, but it's been hours. It's been hours since I could keep from being jostled by the ever growing crowd in front of the arena. It's in situations likes these when being taller than most people really [...]
The memory of what happened before, now comes back to me. --------------------------------------- Ha! My adult self this morning contemplates various mental processes. This thing called memory goes through me in ways which easily elude. Capturing lucidity is a luxury. As I attempt to recount these events, they come in snippets. Out of sorted scenes, shown [...]
I'm standing at the top of the stairs. The top of the stairs at Maria's two bedroom apartment above the one with the bloodstain. I'm looking down at Fred at the bottom of the stairs. "Get the FUCK OUT Fred!!" "Get the fuck out and NEVER come back!" I really don't know how I got [...]
My adult self is fascinated by the way my returning memory of the entire thing is affecting my perspective, my evolving judgement of Fred and who I think he my have been. -------------------------------------- The brilliance of how Fred dealt with that situation. How he'd behaved (performed) for that rich kid AND for me... was how [...]
" ... I saw that Fred was playing this guy. It wasn’t that I was conscious of HOW he was playing his mark, that’s my adult self realizing it here and in this now." -------------------------------- Ok my dear reader... In order to avoid a different kind of head-on collision here. I feel I need to [...]
Whatever it was, whatever we went there to get... we got it. I had no idea what it was, I never found out and I didn't care. We left that upper-middle-class-white-suburban home with the impeccably preened all-white showpiece "living room", got into the shiny BMW of Fred's new "some rich white kid from the suburbs [...]
"... She said that he now spent all his time with "some rich white kid in the suburbs somewhere... ” -------------------------------- Ok so now that I brought up this "rich white kid in the suburbs somewhere" I'm going to have to backtrack a bit more... ------ Several days after moving into my dingy little basement [...]
Someone else's voice I hear only my judgement Time to clean the house
it was obvious by Maria's manner that it was some despicable thing. Something that was of course part of yet another self-serving scammer scheme Fred had cooked up and that Maria was no longer swallowing. ----------------------------------------------------------- As I begin to do a little more research about the history of "welfare" and "welfare reform", I realize [...]
There's nothing like good food to soften the blow of yet another head-on collision with yet another difficult situation. For nearly two months now, as I've been dealing with living in my shitty little dingy basement dungeon of a room, feeding shit on a shingle to the local street punks, walking alone to a scary neighborhood [...]