Why I Committed Suicide (20 page)

We explored the red-light district, of course, on the trail of William S. Burroughs and good drinks. We walked a lot and looked deeply at the intricate ironwork of homes and churches, while the buzz of alcohol and marijuana tinged the air with good nature. We were just fitting in and keeping conversations to a minimum with the grumpy locals who were tired now that their city of sin had just spent itself. All in all, I guess we didn’t really do much this weekend other than sneaking in and around the dispersing crowds, living Cajun style and feeling good. Jenifer won some money on a video poker game that she took over while I was playing it at a bar. She won about thirty clams and we would have won more except we didn’t think the machine actually paid out real money and we made some radical plays with the cards, still it was a nice bonus.

Jim didn’t seem to mind that we missed Mardi Gras and we kept him drunk on beer from different seedy bars. We all just had a good relaxing weekend away from home and revitalizing the youthful spirit in our blood. It was similar but more realistically pleasant than our usual excursions where we just trip acid and go lay on embankments under the highway listening to the roar of cars and watching the deafening stars. This trip’s been a good bonding experience with lots of Denny’s food and a nice groove. This time, my weekend in New Orleans was more how I envision Paris must look. Pleasantly damp and very romantic, there are probably more opportunities for sex in Paris I suppose. But sex is not everything and it isn’t as important now that I sometimes get a lot of it. It is her that matters more than any cheap fuck.

Jealousy is just another form of pride.

Hello love. It seems like I am not writing as much when I’m not out and about in the world traveling. I’m coming to realize my life is complacently routine. I am trying to enjoy these times for what I perceive them to be, a pinnacle in my life. Looking back through the ages and pages, I understand that if I were writing anything other than truth, the introduction of an antagonist would be necessary to capture the wandering attention span and yoke the train of consciousness writing style I’ve adopted. I’m just being me and enjoying things, what can I say? I will give an overview for my own posterity. I suspect that one day, when I reread what I have lived through, it will be very important to remember these so-called simpler times. Is that a foreboding prediction? Only time will tell me the answer I guess. Enough with the Eastern mysticism for now though.

My plant is growing tall and true. Actually plants plural, but one is a lot smaller and will soon be condemned to the wilderness of my backyard where its fate will be decided by limited water and the cruel sun. At least it will get the chance to live. It’s funny, but the simple execution of a plant would make me feel guilty, far better to let fate dictate its slow death. I’m pathetic in my condolences. The planter in my closet gives off a nice moist earthy smell that I find pleasant but the ever-increasing warmth of early spring might make the sense of humidity overwhelming. There is no AC back here in my room and every extra bit of heat is a liability.

Dan and Jenifer are both integral parts of the Flying Tomato crew now. Dan works with me on my killer Thursday and Saturday closing shifts and he gets drunk on the free beer while I get stoned out of my gourd in the freezer. By the time I sober up, if I do, its time to go home. Jim and Jerry come in pretty regularly to get beer and food which is pretty cool because I like being able to share some of my good fortune with the boys, even if it’s just feeding their basic needs. Pizza and beer count as basic needs when you’re in college. Jenifer gets to roam the streets and play while I work which gives her some of the freedom that might be necessary to keep us together. At least it seems to help her feel like she’s not tied down and I try not to violate that belief by intruding on her personal time. She will usually come in at some point during my shift to visit and I still get a thrill of a chill on my spine when I see her singing hips walk through the door no matter how hectic the workplace might be. It reminds me of watching her when she first nervously came to visit me, and that whole flirting via Jill Moppingworth thing. Jenifer’s always waiting for me at home and will call sometimes if I’m late which can get fucking aggravating and causes Dan to give me the “you are henpecked” looks. I can’t seem to convey to Dan the depths of my affection for her, he’s more of a ladies man than I am.

My other job at Swensen’s is going all right too. I dread going there sometimes, but I dread going to work most of the time anyway so it’s all good. Besides it gives me a chance to eat something that isn’t pizza and after a three year pizza diet, and that’s a blessing. Working under Jerry is cool, we both get our jobs done and I get to experiment with obnoxious ice cream creations. Jenifer will come in for food sometimes, but it annoys me when she still won’t eat anything even after I take out all the stuff she refuses to ingest. Correct that, it doesn’t
annoy
me, I just wish she would eat and I worry about her and it comes across as me being annoyed for some reason.

The cocaine at the house is starting to bother me because I really don’t enjoy it like I thought I would and certainly not as much as the anti-drug commercials promised I would. Our circle of friends has discovered that injecting coke gives such a euphoric feeling that it makes them want to do it all night. Something about that doesn’t agree with me, not that I’m an innocent bystander in any of it. It took forever for me to get over the natural aversion I have about doing drugs with needles and now it bothers me more that I’m OK with it. The day after shooting cocaine I sink into a quagmire of severe depression so deep that I have a hard time motivating myself out of it. I feel violated like I’ve whored myself out, but I keep quiet because my friends are really into the shit. Hell, after I do it just once I’m really into it too, but lately I have actually refused free drugs. It’s weird but I sometimes feel fortunate that our finances are strained because if we could afford more coke we would get more. I don’t want to make out like we’re all coke fiends though because it’s only been an occasional indulgence and shooting it up has only happened a few times but I’m wary of what’s going to happen later. I see good natured-ness and love all around me now and I know that it could all quickly change. I see pangs of guilt already in Jim sometimes because he doesn’t have money to party but he’ll still stay up with us anyway. We want him to of course, but underlying guilt is a bitch on friendships. Besides, I like Jim and he needs help motivating his ass in school so any distractions the rest of us bring could affect the rest of his life. Jim and Jerry haven’t been around us when we’ve used the needle because we just discovered it ourselves and honestly I’m shocked, embarrassed and don’t plan on telling anyone else. However like Hunter S. Thompson I refuse to make excuses for seeking chemical adventure.

Jim has been working at a cushy job in the coliseum giving out keys to the rac-quetball courts. He gets to be high and watch Star Trek every other night for a few hours. I’m totally jealous of his job. I’ve visited him sometimes before I go workout at the school’s gym and it looks like he just gets to sit and do his homework. It’s an easy job but I think God’s looking out for him and providing a place to study away from the disturbance that is our home.

In addition to working out more, I’ve been a skateboarding fool lately. My ramp in the backyard is in ill repair with holes and nails sticking out of stolen street signs I hammered over the holes. It’s intimidating so I mostly just street skate now and I always ride my stick to work. It’s too much trouble to get the VW started just to drive across campus. Created by God and German engineers in 1974, my faded red, flower-covered, ho’ed out car is on her last leg. Shit, “Sally’s” a year younger than me and most days I feel run down too, so I’m not mad at her. Jenifer gets irritated that she has to drive everywhere but then panics when she rides with me and sees the danger I pose to the cars and inanimate objects around us. I drive at 80 mph down the freeway in the hopes of blowing the engine out so I’ll have some excuse to find another ride, but the VW’s durability is pleasantly frustrating. Jenifer also hasn’t looked underneath the car as intimately as I have so she can’t know the passenger seat sits on rusted holes. She obviously knows there isn’t a seatbelt on the passenger side AND that I don’t have any insurance coverage, yet she fails to detect the exhaust leak that I think is slowly making me stupider. Nicely put, “Sally” is a deathtrap, but she’s a
reliable
deathtrap as long as the battery stays charged and the duct tape stays sticky. Keeping the battery charged requires driving every few days and I’m notoriously lackadaisical about this, so often when I absolutely have to drive someplace I have to get volunteers from the house to help me push Sally down the street so I can pop the clutch and get her going.

So Jen, my true love, can be grumpy that she has to accommodate me, but if she wants to go anywhere she’ll likely have to drive. I certainly wouldn’t relinquish the manly power of driving unless I felt there was a need, even if I can’t communicate it. Lately we mostly get stoned and watch a lot of Discovery channel instead of going out anyway. I’m a true poor Southern gentleman, albeit one without a dog. Yet.

My old friends James & Gregory stopped by the house today, totally by surprise. They went to high school together and both continued on to St. John’s up in New Mexico. I haven’t seen them for ages of course, even a lifetime of friendship can’t compete much with both of our new explorations and the adventures of going away to school. Gregory had one of his usual girls in tow; he likely picked her up last night at a bar somewhere in the Metroplex. Gregory is what I refer to as a girl magnet, a male who can do about anything and instantly become the idol of any female presence within a fifty-yard radius. He’s the only person I’ve ever met that falls into this class of male, though I’ve heard stories—nay legends—of more. I guess as laws get more stringent a lot of them end up behind bars since it’s a crime against the establishment to be that damn alluring. Gregory’s a great guy to make friends with since a person can hang around with him and pick up girls vicariously. Since there’s only one of him it’s nice to help out and handle his overflow, or castaways if you will. It isn’t that he’s especially attractive that I can tell. It’s more of an aura, a look or pheromone secretion as near as I can hazard.

I hadn’t seen either of them since Ernie and I drove my VW to New Mexico and went skiing for the weekend a few years ago so I was nervous at first but we quickly settled into our usual rapport. I met James a long, long time ago and I suppose I should write a little about James and his family since they’ve had such a big influence on my development as a person. I love James for what he and his family did for me as a youth. Their home was my sanctuary and refuge from my own dysfunctional family. It’s because his family placed such a value on learning and reading that I was exposed to thousands of great books and artworks that I would have never stumbled across on my own. Through my observations of their perfect nuclear family I learned about class distinction and that money is a blessing never to be hoarded but something to be used wisely and generously. Hell, they bailed me out when I lost $80, all my money in the world at the time, to a three card Monte hustler on the streets of NY. They even did it slyly by saying it was for my birthday. We went to school together in the same gifted classes and drudgery until sixth grade when James transferred to a Catholic school my parents couldn’t come close to affording. We remained close friends until he left for college. James’s house is where I was encouraged to be creative, to think outside the box and to look at a life where careers are based on more than financial reward. James’s generous car lessened the pain and necessity of not having one of my own in high school and during my first year of college. We discovered girls and zits and a mutual appreciation for bad television together. When we speak it’s with the frustrating language people parallel to identical twins. I’m sure his family was slightly annoyed with the way I managed to attach myself to their gatherings, but I didn’t know any better. I went skiing with them for the first time at their private cabin in Lake City near Crested Butte. I went to museums with them, weddings, funerals, art films, Catholic mass and as we grew up together I generally tried not to make a nuisance of myself during my frequent layovers at their dinner table. I also fell into a secret love with his younger sister Maureen because of a longing for her that grew out of exposure and a desire to be a part of their family. When I proudly announced I would marry her one day, she tattled to her parents and I got red in the face when they said they would be happy to have me. I consider the majority of their brood to be good people too. He has 3 older siblings that were gone before he and Maureen came along. I even looked up to James’s dad as a father who wasn’t my father, not a new concept given my home life. For them I even had to rethink my lifelong instinct and philosophy to never trust anyone with red hair. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for their family and I would die for James. I owe them big time and I know it. Instead of fading into poor stupid obscurity I was shown, not made to, appreciate the value of education.

All past history and bullshit aside however, I was glad to get a random visit from James. I had bought him a giant sombrero during my trip to Mexico over Christmas and he thanked me by bringing over a case of Lone Star beer, assuring me that its high-dollar shit up at St. John’s. We got drunk and talked about nothing and everything, just having a good time. I introduced him to Jenifer (she was working) with pride when we went to the Tomato at my insistence for free beer and pizza. There’s not much else to report really because we got obnoxiously drunk. They were envious of my house and I wished we were able to stay in better contact when he left but long distance friendships must progress. Still it felt like one of my brothers had visited for a day and left, so I was slightly depressed to see them go.