This is not a poem
All that shit you sweat
All that shit you play so close
All that shit you run after run after run after
All that shit you dream to cop
Its all burning, like your body
All that shit you jock
All that shit you covet
All that, its all burning, like your body,
Falling, falling, falling, to dust
Like everything you hold dear
All that shit you need
Need it so deep down it hurts
So that you give your life to it
It’s all burning, like your body, falling, falling, falling
You tell me, what is life for
Where have we been, what have we done,
Name something good you did, between struggling for garbage
Struggling for garbage, all of it burning like all of us
Burning
You don’t need any of the things
You think are so damn important
And they end up owning you.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Litmus Test (Cleaned up 1)
Litmus test.
Dylan was the strangest red neck I had ever met. He wasn’t really a red neck, he was just poor, white, and lived in the country, outside Woodville. I used tota go over there quite a bit and get drunk with him. His wife and kids were gone, and he was on disability on account of falling off a stack at the paper mill, so he had alota lot ofta time to just drink and do whatever.
And he did have a lot. He had all sorts of hobby’shobbies. He made weird stuff out ofa car parts and discarded mechanical shit. I guess you could call it art, but it moved too. His weird contraptions didn’t do anything, I mean nothing practical, they just sort of turned gears and pulleys and belched smoke or popped or some blew air horns like on a train, all sorts of crazy shittuff. Most people in town thought he was nuts. Well, I guess he sort ofa was. But I’d rather be that kind of nuts, than the kind of nuts those dumb fuckers at school and church seemed likemore than half the time.
I felt like I could talk to Dylan about stuff I would never tell my grandparents, who I lived with. I mean we could talk about sex and girls and getting fucked up, and the sort of stuff I wanted to do with my self later in life, and what college was like, and how fucked up religion seemeds, and some politics, and all that. He was a smart guy and read a lot, and I liked to hear his opinions whichopinions, which seemed far removed from most what I had heard from most folks about this kind of stuff. He had lots of books and he wouldoften let me take them home. I’d read them and then we’d talk about them.
One book, called The Dirty One was full of sex stuff, most of it between dudes. Well, I was pretty shocked at first, but after reading it for a bit, and getting past my initial uneasiness I felt sort of turned on by it. Well, actually I’m lying, I felt reallyREAL turned on, and I won’t tell you what it led me to do, but I will tell you I felt ashamed and sort of sick and confused after I did it. I tried not to think about it and when I did I felt scarred.
So I brought the book back to him after only a few days. I just put it back on his shelf so he didn’t see. A few days later we were drinking beer and he asked me how did I liked it, and ifdid I had read it through to the end. And I told him I didn’t have time for it, so just brought it back. Then he started talking about the stories in it, real frankly, real openly, and I got uncomfortable but I was surprised by how open he was. Well, I asked him what he thought about gay people. I had never considered the question I guess, well, that is until I read that book. Everybody always talks about it like it’s such a terrible thing and it’s the worst thing and all that, so I just sort of accepted that, and that’s why I felt so terrible about doing what I did after readingto that book. But before that day, I never much paid it any attention to gays.
Daryl just said that they had the right to do whatever, and that it wasn’t anyone’s no bodys business if they did, and that life was too short to miss out on fucking with whoever you like. He also said that lots of the people who are really pissed off about people being gay, the ones who make a big deal out of it at school or church or on the TV and all, they might want to be a little gay them selfvess. He said that lots of people are a little gay.
I said, “How are you a little gay, but not all the way gay?”
He took a long drink of beer, lit a cigarette, and paused.
I said, “Well?”
Daryl looked over at me and said, “Wwell this is what I think, but I might be wrong. The difference between being bi, or part gay, and all the way gay, is if you like just guys and not girls. But if you do like guys, you still might not want to go all the way. I mean you know , do all the things they talked about in that book. If that’s the case case, Youyou might want to do some of them, but not all of them. And anyway, you might be in love with another man and want to do it sort of for him, but not really. Some people say you got to like to be fucked in the ass. I can’t imagine anyone liking that much. Talk about pain! Goddamn, feels like your being split in two, can’t hardly stand it…..”it…”He stopped in mid in dead sentence.
“So how do you know if you’rer gay, I mean how? Are you saying gay guys
are the only ones who go all the way?”
He took another drink, and looked up at the cellingceiling, “Hhell I don’t know, well anyway it don’t matter, people is people, and gay, not gay, part gay, whatever, it don’t matter. It’s all just names. And poplepeople of both sexes can be beautiful to look at and fun to be with. But I’ll tell you anyway, seems to me if you want to know if your all gay or not, I mean if you ever question it, try getting fucked in the ass, then you’ll know, Jesusueeeeezus, now that’s dedication.”
I decided to leave it at that.
Dylan was the strangest red neck I had ever met. He wasn’t really a red neck, he was just poor, white, and lived in the country, outside Woodville. I used tota go over there quite a bit and get drunk with him. His wife and kids were gone, and he was on disability on account of falling off a stack at the paper mill, so he had alota lot ofta time to just drink and do whatever.
And he did have a lot. He had all sorts of hobby’shobbies. He made weird stuff out ofa car parts and discarded mechanical shit. I guess you could call it art, but it moved too. His weird contraptions didn’t do anything, I mean nothing practical, they just sort of turned gears and pulleys and belched smoke or popped or some blew air horns like on a train, all sorts of crazy shittuff. Most people in town thought he was nuts. Well, I guess he sort ofa was. But I’d rather be that kind of nuts, than the kind of nuts those dumb fuckers at school and church seemed likemore than half the time.
I felt like I could talk to Dylan about stuff I would never tell my grandparents, who I lived with. I mean we could talk about sex and girls and getting fucked up, and the sort of stuff I wanted to do with my self later in life, and what college was like, and how fucked up religion seemeds, and some politics, and all that. He was a smart guy and read a lot, and I liked to hear his opinions whichopinions, which seemed far removed from most what I had heard from most folks about this kind of stuff. He had lots of books and he wouldoften let me take them home. I’d read them and then we’d talk about them.
One book, called The Dirty One was full of sex stuff, most of it between dudes. Well, I was pretty shocked at first, but after reading it for a bit, and getting past my initial uneasiness I felt sort of turned on by it. Well, actually I’m lying, I felt reallyREAL turned on, and I won’t tell you what it led me to do, but I will tell you I felt ashamed and sort of sick and confused after I did it. I tried not to think about it and when I did I felt scarred.
So I brought the book back to him after only a few days. I just put it back on his shelf so he didn’t see. A few days later we were drinking beer and he asked me how did I liked it, and ifdid I had read it through to the end. And I told him I didn’t have time for it, so just brought it back. Then he started talking about the stories in it, real frankly, real openly, and I got uncomfortable but I was surprised by how open he was. Well, I asked him what he thought about gay people. I had never considered the question I guess, well, that is until I read that book. Everybody always talks about it like it’s such a terrible thing and it’s the worst thing and all that, so I just sort of accepted that, and that’s why I felt so terrible about doing what I did after readingto that book. But before that day, I never much paid it any attention to gays.
Daryl just said that they had the right to do whatever, and that it wasn’t anyone’s no bodys business if they did, and that life was too short to miss out on fucking with whoever you like. He also said that lots of the people who are really pissed off about people being gay, the ones who make a big deal out of it at school or church or on the TV and all, they might want to be a little gay them selfvess. He said that lots of people are a little gay.
I said, “How are you a little gay, but not all the way gay?”
He took a long drink of beer, lit a cigarette, and paused.
I said, “Well?”
Daryl looked over at me and said, “Wwell this is what I think, but I might be wrong. The difference between being bi, or part gay, and all the way gay, is if you like just guys and not girls. But if you do like guys, you still might not want to go all the way. I mean you know , do all the things they talked about in that book. If that’s the case case, Youyou might want to do some of them, but not all of them. And anyway, you might be in love with another man and want to do it sort of for him, but not really. Some people say you got to like to be fucked in the ass. I can’t imagine anyone liking that much. Talk about pain! Goddamn, feels like your being split in two, can’t hardly stand it…..”it…”He stopped in mid in dead sentence.
“So how do you know if you’rer gay, I mean how? Are you saying gay guys
are the only ones who go all the way?”
He took another drink, and looked up at the cellingceiling, “Hhell I don’t know, well anyway it don’t matter, people is people, and gay, not gay, part gay, whatever, it don’t matter. It’s all just names. And poplepeople of both sexes can be beautiful to look at and fun to be with. But I’ll tell you anyway, seems to me if you want to know if your all gay or not, I mean if you ever question it, try getting fucked in the ass, then you’ll know, Jesusueeeeezus, now that’s dedication.”
I decided to leave it at that.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Return to it
It will be soon now
Soon now
We will return to it
do you remember your dream
can you remember being
suspended in the salty sea,
weightless and perfect
like a willow or swallow
or bush or thrush
can you remember being perfect like grass
or have they beat it out of you
the pureness of things, of your heart
like a delicate bloom, like a newborn sparrow
all downy softness and new growth
all pink rose and budding and warm thick blood
have they dried us to a shiver
that’s their job
what did we do today
the only day of this life
go through the motions
our fingertips cracked
It's ok
It will be soon now
It is almost here
Soon now
We will return to it
do you remember your dream
can you remember being
suspended in the salty sea,
weightless and perfect
like a willow or swallow
or bush or thrush
can you remember being perfect like grass
or have they beat it out of you
the pureness of things, of your heart
like a delicate bloom, like a newborn sparrow
all downy softness and new growth
all pink rose and budding and warm thick blood
have they dried us to a shiver
that’s their job
what did we do today
the only day of this life
go through the motions
our fingertips cracked
It's ok
It will be soon now
It is almost here
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Grand Dead (Salty Tears Dub)
I
It was Jackson’s 11 year sobriety birthday and he was feeling fine driving home from the AA hall. Life was finally starting to smooth out. Jackson had a good job at the plant, a fine woman for girlfriend, and had regained a relationship with his family, and most importantly the stormy waters of his mind had smoothed a little. And to make things even better this year he had finally quit smoking! It was a battle but he did it, with God’s help of course. He was fond of telling people that God was finally doing for him what he could not do for himself. When he walked in the house his little Chihuahua Bonita started to do her customary “I’m so so so happy to see you dance”, which consisted of her running franticly around the room, doing little jumps, and other quick almost cat-like movements. He picked her up, petted her, and felt fine as he was getting ready for bed.
His feeling of fineness was interrupted when he heard the neighbors yelling as he was settling into bed. This was getting to be a common occurrence. Jackson had bought the house a 5 years ago (another gift of sobriety), and it was a strange twist of fate that one of his old running buddies Rob, and his fiancé Linda were living with Rob’s grandfather Ronny next-door. Jackson had gotten sober but Rob never had, he had only gotten worse over the years, hit the skids, and had to move in with his grandfather Ronny. By that point neither Rob nor Linda had worked a steady job for some time. Rob said he had severe back problems that kept him from working, so instead stayed high on pain pills and booze, but got a little disability check each month. He went to a doctor that helped him with the process of filing for disability, and the two had developed a close working relationship over the years. Rob would spend most of his money on Hydrocodone and Dilaudid, and when he was running short he could see the doctor on credit untill the first of the month, or he could “borrow” some from his grandfather. Linda hadn’t worked in three years, when she did work it was spotty because she could not get along with anyone so she tended to get fired within a few months of starting a job. A few months ago she had tried to get a job, but she had no references or work history to speak of at 35. She also had a felony conviction for intent to distribute Zanex which made it hard to even get her foot in the door. She had diabetes and told employers her knees got to hurting if she stood for more than an hour at a time.
Often Jackson would pull up from work and Rob and his blushing bride to be would be hanging out on the porch or the yard drinking beer and listening to music. They would often invite him over to hang out and drink with them, but he would always decline. He finally told Rob that he had cleaned up his act, was sober, and didn’t drink anymore. Sometimes they would get to talking about the shape of Rob’s life and Jackson often asked him to come to meetings. It was becoming more and more apparent to Jackson that Rob’s life was spiraling out of control. Sometimes he would see Ronny outside yelling at Rob or Linda. The yard had become trashed since he moved in. The old man seemed very clean but it looked like his property was turning into a white trash heaven. Rob’s old pickup was parked in the yard, and had an oil leak. Rob was constantly working on this or that, constantly with a plan of getting it on the road and doing some traveling etc..,
Jackson liked Ronny, he seemed a solid hard working type and reminded Jackson of his own father. He had talked with the old man and over the years and gleaned something of his past. He was born so poor that at least one of his siblings had died of what sounded like malnutrition or lack of proper care shortly after birth. The baby had been “birthed unnaturally by some no good witch doctor that didn’t know shit about medicine” at their 3 roomed house. The bank repossessed the farm and the family had to move west shortly after the little girl’s death. Ronny signed up for the military right after Perl Harbor and had to get special permission from his parents and the constable because he was only 16. He didn’t see any action but was sent to Hawaii and worked as a cook. He said it was the best thing could have happened to him. In the army he got some education and learned a trade. Upon returning he got married to his high-school sweet heart, and got a job as a cook at the local High School cafeteria. In time he worked his way up into an administration position with the school board overseeing the purchase and transportation of large amounts of food for all the schools in the district. He retired at 65 with full VA benefits and a nice retirement package from the state. His wife had died shortly thereafter and it was a blow because he wanted to spend his “golden years” with her. He had worked so hard, and seen her much less than he had wanted too. He had missed a lot of time with the family because he had to work, and he could not have helped that because a man has to work and support a family, or he’s less than a pig.
He was of the opinion that everyone could make it in America, given a little hard work and a little character and a little discipline. His brother had been a drunk and a bum who rode the rails, and by god he swore that he would never disappoint his mother the way his brother had, so he set himself to have a good life and raise a family, and by God he did just that. Ronny felt that sometimes people wanted to be bums and that was that. He had sent his only son to a good collage and wanted the boy to be something better than his father, the boy was smart as a whip, but he had the same problem as his uncle, and drank too much, and now he is a bum too, and never called.
For Ronny drinking, and drugging and the bumming were strictly character problems. If people wanted to be lazy the go lord had given them enough free will to do so. Ronny’s only son was a drunk, had finished college and then moved to California. Shortly thereafter his son Rob had come to live with Ronny because his father was a drunken bum. It had been 20 years since anyone in the family had heard from him. He winced a little when he talked about his son and it was apparent to Jackson that Ronny was very hurt about the situation. He would always follow this story with one about his sweet daughter who lived in Michigan and had a good job with a large internet security firm and is married to an ex-Navy man, a good hard working man, thank god.
“See” Ronny would say, “you did it, you straightened up, so can my son and grandson, so can any man, he just has to pull his head out of his ass and work hard. This is America. Anyone can make it. I did it, you did it, anyone can do it. The only people who can’t make it in this country are the lazy and the degenerate. Simple as that…”
Jackson knew a little more about alcoholism and the craziness that makes people unemployable, or at any rate had a different take on the problem, and tried to tell Ronny that is was not as easy as a problem of simple self-control, or moral degeneration, or choice, that alcoholism is a disease, both physical and spiritual, and that once it gets ahold of you it takes more than a simple “decision” to break loose. He tried to tell Ronny that Rob was very sick, and that he would have to get sober before he could get and keep a job, or learn to get along in the world, and that would take a lot of loving help from people and god. Kicking him out might not be a bad idea, but he had to treat him with the care one would treat a sick person, and not try and shame him. He felt enough shame as it is. Jackson told Ronny that he should look into state supported rehabs.
“Bullshit” Ronny would say. “I’m about to kick that no good lazy bastard out, just like I did his dirty hippy dad. I'm not gonna be made a fool twice. I supported his dad for years and all the sudden he just quits calling. He just threw me to the trash heap when he didn’t need money. Martha and I never raised him to be that selfish. Look at his sister, she’s an angel, we worked hard to raise those kids right. And I damn near raised Rob too, cause his no good dad was off doing whatever. Am I supposed to just carry him the rest of his life? I tried to send him to school and he stayed loaded and dropped out his first semester. I can’t get him to work, or anything. He is lazy and disrespectful, and that nasty pig of his is eating me out of house and home.”
II
Sometime after Jackson’s prayers thanking godfor the good things in his life, which he did every night before bed, he was driven from it by an abrupt banging on the door. He could here screams outside. Jackson ran to open the door. Rob stood there without shirt, in torn bloody jean shorts, with one sock on and one bare foot. He was holding up his hands looking shell shocked. As soon as the door opened he started talking franticly, holding up his hands “I didn’t do anything, I swear, he fell is all, the old man fell, I didn’t do it.”
Jackson took one look and immediately ran to the phone. He called 911 and told the operator that there was some trouble and that someone was hurt badly, and gave her the address. The operator pleaded with him to stay calm, to stay rational, that everything was going to be ok, that the authorities would handle it, and to stay on the line. Jackson hung up, put on a pair of shorts, and ran over to see what he could actually do to help.
When he entered the front door, Linda was kneeling in panties and bra, her bulging body spilling out of her underwear, screaming, trying to pet or rub Jackson’s head. She was babbling that it would be ok, that the smart doctors would fix it all up.
Jackson ran over to her and pulled her back, telling her that it was ok, that everything was going to be ok, that the doctors and police would make it ok, as you would tell a child that’s scared of the dark. Rob was backed up against the wall still screaming that he fell, that the old man fell, that he didn’t do anything.
Jackson stood over the old man who was bleeding from the head, but he could see faintly that he was still breathing. The paramedics were the first to arrive. The other three backed up against the wall watching and saying nothing. Shortly thereafter the cops came and talked very briefly to all three and cuffed Rob. They told Linda and Jackson to go on home. Linda was babbling that she didn’t have any place to go. The cops asked her if she was living there and she said yes. She looked over at the blood spot on the carpet and started crying heavier, heaving, almost chocking on her tears. The paramedics were wheeling Ronny out on a stretcher, a respirator attached to his face and a brace on his neck. Jackson wondered if he would be paralyzed. He looked back Linda. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her. Jackson offered up his spare bed for the night and the two walked over.
When they walked in the house Bonita ran up on the couch and sat very quietly, shivering a little, looking very unsure of herself. Linda was still crying, and sat on the couch where Bonita had scrunched up against the arm. When Linda sat she made herself very low to the couch, sort of crawling on her belly, and elongated her body. Linda was sobbing say that she just couldn’t live like this anymore. Bonita was crawling very slowly and reached Linda. She slinked onto her lap, laid her body flat against the blanket standding up, her belly pressed fast against Linda’s, put her neck between her breasts, and stretched up and started licking her face, licking the tears, knowing for sure without reason somehow in her ancient self that this was the proper response to creatures when they suffer.
It was Jackson’s 11 year sobriety birthday and he was feeling fine driving home from the AA hall. Life was finally starting to smooth out. Jackson had a good job at the plant, a fine woman for girlfriend, and had regained a relationship with his family, and most importantly the stormy waters of his mind had smoothed a little. And to make things even better this year he had finally quit smoking! It was a battle but he did it, with God’s help of course. He was fond of telling people that God was finally doing for him what he could not do for himself. When he walked in the house his little Chihuahua Bonita started to do her customary “I’m so so so happy to see you dance”, which consisted of her running franticly around the room, doing little jumps, and other quick almost cat-like movements. He picked her up, petted her, and felt fine as he was getting ready for bed.
His feeling of fineness was interrupted when he heard the neighbors yelling as he was settling into bed. This was getting to be a common occurrence. Jackson had bought the house a 5 years ago (another gift of sobriety), and it was a strange twist of fate that one of his old running buddies Rob, and his fiancé Linda were living with Rob’s grandfather Ronny next-door. Jackson had gotten sober but Rob never had, he had only gotten worse over the years, hit the skids, and had to move in with his grandfather Ronny. By that point neither Rob nor Linda had worked a steady job for some time. Rob said he had severe back problems that kept him from working, so instead stayed high on pain pills and booze, but got a little disability check each month. He went to a doctor that helped him with the process of filing for disability, and the two had developed a close working relationship over the years. Rob would spend most of his money on Hydrocodone and Dilaudid, and when he was running short he could see the doctor on credit untill the first of the month, or he could “borrow” some from his grandfather. Linda hadn’t worked in three years, when she did work it was spotty because she could not get along with anyone so she tended to get fired within a few months of starting a job. A few months ago she had tried to get a job, but she had no references or work history to speak of at 35. She also had a felony conviction for intent to distribute Zanex which made it hard to even get her foot in the door. She had diabetes and told employers her knees got to hurting if she stood for more than an hour at a time.
Often Jackson would pull up from work and Rob and his blushing bride to be would be hanging out on the porch or the yard drinking beer and listening to music. They would often invite him over to hang out and drink with them, but he would always decline. He finally told Rob that he had cleaned up his act, was sober, and didn’t drink anymore. Sometimes they would get to talking about the shape of Rob’s life and Jackson often asked him to come to meetings. It was becoming more and more apparent to Jackson that Rob’s life was spiraling out of control. Sometimes he would see Ronny outside yelling at Rob or Linda. The yard had become trashed since he moved in. The old man seemed very clean but it looked like his property was turning into a white trash heaven. Rob’s old pickup was parked in the yard, and had an oil leak. Rob was constantly working on this or that, constantly with a plan of getting it on the road and doing some traveling etc..,
Jackson liked Ronny, he seemed a solid hard working type and reminded Jackson of his own father. He had talked with the old man and over the years and gleaned something of his past. He was born so poor that at least one of his siblings had died of what sounded like malnutrition or lack of proper care shortly after birth. The baby had been “birthed unnaturally by some no good witch doctor that didn’t know shit about medicine” at their 3 roomed house. The bank repossessed the farm and the family had to move west shortly after the little girl’s death. Ronny signed up for the military right after Perl Harbor and had to get special permission from his parents and the constable because he was only 16. He didn’t see any action but was sent to Hawaii and worked as a cook. He said it was the best thing could have happened to him. In the army he got some education and learned a trade. Upon returning he got married to his high-school sweet heart, and got a job as a cook at the local High School cafeteria. In time he worked his way up into an administration position with the school board overseeing the purchase and transportation of large amounts of food for all the schools in the district. He retired at 65 with full VA benefits and a nice retirement package from the state. His wife had died shortly thereafter and it was a blow because he wanted to spend his “golden years” with her. He had worked so hard, and seen her much less than he had wanted too. He had missed a lot of time with the family because he had to work, and he could not have helped that because a man has to work and support a family, or he’s less than a pig.
He was of the opinion that everyone could make it in America, given a little hard work and a little character and a little discipline. His brother had been a drunk and a bum who rode the rails, and by god he swore that he would never disappoint his mother the way his brother had, so he set himself to have a good life and raise a family, and by God he did just that. Ronny felt that sometimes people wanted to be bums and that was that. He had sent his only son to a good collage and wanted the boy to be something better than his father, the boy was smart as a whip, but he had the same problem as his uncle, and drank too much, and now he is a bum too, and never called.
For Ronny drinking, and drugging and the bumming were strictly character problems. If people wanted to be lazy the go lord had given them enough free will to do so. Ronny’s only son was a drunk, had finished college and then moved to California. Shortly thereafter his son Rob had come to live with Ronny because his father was a drunken bum. It had been 20 years since anyone in the family had heard from him. He winced a little when he talked about his son and it was apparent to Jackson that Ronny was very hurt about the situation. He would always follow this story with one about his sweet daughter who lived in Michigan and had a good job with a large internet security firm and is married to an ex-Navy man, a good hard working man, thank god.
“See” Ronny would say, “you did it, you straightened up, so can my son and grandson, so can any man, he just has to pull his head out of his ass and work hard. This is America. Anyone can make it. I did it, you did it, anyone can do it. The only people who can’t make it in this country are the lazy and the degenerate. Simple as that…”
Jackson knew a little more about alcoholism and the craziness that makes people unemployable, or at any rate had a different take on the problem, and tried to tell Ronny that is was not as easy as a problem of simple self-control, or moral degeneration, or choice, that alcoholism is a disease, both physical and spiritual, and that once it gets ahold of you it takes more than a simple “decision” to break loose. He tried to tell Ronny that Rob was very sick, and that he would have to get sober before he could get and keep a job, or learn to get along in the world, and that would take a lot of loving help from people and god. Kicking him out might not be a bad idea, but he had to treat him with the care one would treat a sick person, and not try and shame him. He felt enough shame as it is. Jackson told Ronny that he should look into state supported rehabs.
“Bullshit” Ronny would say. “I’m about to kick that no good lazy bastard out, just like I did his dirty hippy dad. I'm not gonna be made a fool twice. I supported his dad for years and all the sudden he just quits calling. He just threw me to the trash heap when he didn’t need money. Martha and I never raised him to be that selfish. Look at his sister, she’s an angel, we worked hard to raise those kids right. And I damn near raised Rob too, cause his no good dad was off doing whatever. Am I supposed to just carry him the rest of his life? I tried to send him to school and he stayed loaded and dropped out his first semester. I can’t get him to work, or anything. He is lazy and disrespectful, and that nasty pig of his is eating me out of house and home.”
II
Sometime after Jackson’s prayers thanking godfor the good things in his life, which he did every night before bed, he was driven from it by an abrupt banging on the door. He could here screams outside. Jackson ran to open the door. Rob stood there without shirt, in torn bloody jean shorts, with one sock on and one bare foot. He was holding up his hands looking shell shocked. As soon as the door opened he started talking franticly, holding up his hands “I didn’t do anything, I swear, he fell is all, the old man fell, I didn’t do it.”
Jackson took one look and immediately ran to the phone. He called 911 and told the operator that there was some trouble and that someone was hurt badly, and gave her the address. The operator pleaded with him to stay calm, to stay rational, that everything was going to be ok, that the authorities would handle it, and to stay on the line. Jackson hung up, put on a pair of shorts, and ran over to see what he could actually do to help.
When he entered the front door, Linda was kneeling in panties and bra, her bulging body spilling out of her underwear, screaming, trying to pet or rub Jackson’s head. She was babbling that it would be ok, that the smart doctors would fix it all up.
Jackson ran over to her and pulled her back, telling her that it was ok, that everything was going to be ok, that the doctors and police would make it ok, as you would tell a child that’s scared of the dark. Rob was backed up against the wall still screaming that he fell, that the old man fell, that he didn’t do anything.
Jackson stood over the old man who was bleeding from the head, but he could see faintly that he was still breathing. The paramedics were the first to arrive. The other three backed up against the wall watching and saying nothing. Shortly thereafter the cops came and talked very briefly to all three and cuffed Rob. They told Linda and Jackson to go on home. Linda was babbling that she didn’t have any place to go. The cops asked her if she was living there and she said yes. She looked over at the blood spot on the carpet and started crying heavier, heaving, almost chocking on her tears. The paramedics were wheeling Ronny out on a stretcher, a respirator attached to his face and a brace on his neck. Jackson wondered if he would be paralyzed. He looked back Linda. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her. Jackson offered up his spare bed for the night and the two walked over.
When they walked in the house Bonita ran up on the couch and sat very quietly, shivering a little, looking very unsure of herself. Linda was still crying, and sat on the couch where Bonita had scrunched up against the arm. When Linda sat she made herself very low to the couch, sort of crawling on her belly, and elongated her body. Linda was sobbing say that she just couldn’t live like this anymore. Bonita was crawling very slowly and reached Linda. She slinked onto her lap, laid her body flat against the blanket standding up, her belly pressed fast against Linda’s, put her neck between her breasts, and stretched up and started licking her face, licking the tears, knowing for sure without reason somehow in her ancient self that this was the proper response to creatures when they suffer.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Grand Dead II (Thank u god dub)
It was Jackson’s 11 year sobriety birthday and he was feeling fine driving home from the AA hall. Life was finally starting to smooth out. Jackson had a good job at the plant, a fine woman for girlfriend, and had regained a relationship with his family, and most importantly the stormy waters of his mind had smoothed a little. And to make things even better this year he had finally quit smoking! It was a battle but he did it, with God’s help of course. He was fond of telling people that God was finally doing for him what he could not do for himself. After a warm bath complete with bath salts, he was all ready to lay it down in for the night.
His feeling of fineness was interrupted when he heard the neighbors yelling as he was settling into bed. This was getting to be a common occurrence. Jackson had bought the house a 5 years ago (another gift of sobriety), and it was a strange twist of fate that one of his old running buddies Rob, and his fiancé Linda were living with Rob’s grandfather Ronny next-door. Jackson had gotten sober but Rob never had, he had only gotten worse over the years, hit the skids, and had to move in with his grandfather Ronny. By that point neither Rob nor Linda had worked a steady job for some time. Rob said he had severe back problems that kept him from working, so instead stayed high on pain pills and booze, but got a little disability check each month. He went to a doctor that helped him with the process of filing for disability, and the two had developed a close working relationship over the years. Rob would spend most of his money on Hydrocodone and Dilaudid at the doctor’s office, and when he was running short he could get by on credit till the first of the month, or he could “borrow” some from his grandfather. Linda could not get along with anyone so she tended to get fired within a few months of starting a job so had no references or work history to speak of at 35. She also had a felony conviction for intent to distribute Zanex which made it hard to even get her foot in the door. She also had diabetes and complained about her knees hurting if she stood for more than an hour at a time. She was severely overweight.
Often Jackson would pull up from work and Rob and his blushing bride to be would be hanging out on the porch or the yard drinking beer and listening to music. They would invite him over to hang out and drink with them but he would always decline. He finally told Rob that he had cleaned up his act, and was sober, and didn’t drink beer anymore. Sometimes they would get to talking about the shape of Rob’s life and Jackson often asked him to come to meetings. It was becoming more and more apparent to Jackson that Rob’s life was spiraling out of control. Sometimes he would see Ronny outside yelling at Rob or Linda. The yard had become trashed since he moved in. The old man seemed very clean but it looked like his property was turning into a white trash heaven. Rob’s old pickup was parked in the yard, and had an oil leak. Rob was constantly working on this or that, constantly with plan of getting it on the road and doing some traveling etc..,
Jackson liked Ronny, he seemed a solid hard working type and reminded Jackson of his own father. He had talked with the old man and over the years and gleaned something of his past. He was born so poor that at least one of his siblings had died of what sounded like malnutrition or lack of proper care shortly after birth. The baby had been “birthed unnaturally by some no good witch doctor that didn’t know shit about medicine” at their 3 roomed house. The bank repossessed the farm and the family had to move west shortly after it's death. Ronny signed up for the military right after Perl Harbor and had to get special permission from his parents and the constable because he was only 16. He didn’t see any action but was sent to Hawaii and worked as a cook. He said it was the best thing could have happened to him. He got an education and learned a trade. Upon returning he got married to his high-school sweet heart, and got a job as a cook at the Local High School cafeteria. In time he worked his way up into an administration position with the school board overseeing the purchase and transportation of large amounts of food for all the schools in the district. He retired at 65 with full VA benefits and a nice retirement package from the state. His wife had died shortly thereafter and it was a blow because he wanted to spend his “golden years” with her. He had worked so hard, and seen her much less than he had wanted too. He had missed a lot of time with the family because he had to work, and a man had to work.
He was of the opinion that everyone could make it in America, given a little hard work and a little character and a little discipline. His brother had been a drunk and a bum who rode the rails, and by god he swore that he would never disappoint his mother the way his brother had. Ronny felt that sometimes people want to be bums and that was that. He had sent his only son to a good collage and wanted the boy to be something better than his father, the boy was smart as a whip, but he had the same problem as his uncle, and drank too much, and now he is a bum too, and never called.
For Ronny drinking and the bumming that went with it was a moral problem. Ronny’s only son was a heavy drinker, had finished college and then moved to California. Shortly thereafter Rob had come to live with his grandpaw because his father had become unable to support him. It had been 20 years since anyone in the family had heard from him. He winced a little when he talked about his son and it was apparent to Jackson that Ronny was very hurt about the situation. Ronny's sweet daughter lived in Michigan and had a good job with a large internet security firm and is married to an ex-Navy man, a good hard working man, thank god.
“See” Ronny would say, “you did it, you straightened up, so can my son and grandson, so can any man, he just has to pull his head out of his ass and work hard. This is America. Anyone can make it. I did it, you did it, anyone can do it. The only people who can’t make it in this country are the lazy and the degenerate. Simple as that…”
Jackson knew a little more about alcoholism, or at any rate had a different take on the problem, and tried to tell Ronny that is was not as easy as a problem of simple self-control, or moral degeneration, that it was a disease, both physical and spiritual, and that once it gets ahold of you it takes more than a simple “decision” to break loose. He tried to tell Ronny that Rob was very sick, and that he would have to get sober before he could get and keep a job, and that would take some help, the help of others. Kicking him out might not be a gbad idea, but he had to treat him with the care one would treat a sick person, and not try and shame him. He feels enough shame as it is.
“Bullshit” Ronny would say. “I’m about to kick that no good lazy bastard out, just like I did his dirty hippy dad. I'm not gonna be made a fool twice. I supported his dad for years and all the sudden he just quits calling. He just threw me to the trash heap when he don’t need money. Me and Martha never raised him to be that selfish. Look at his sister, she’s an angel, we raied those kids right. And I damn near raised Rob too cause his no good dad was off doing whatever. Am I supposed to just carry him the rest of his life? I tried to send him to school and he stayed loaded and dropped out his first semester. I can’t get him to work, or anything. He is lazy and disrespectful, and that nasty pig of his is eating me out of house and home.”
Sometime after Jackson’s prayers thanking god for his sobriety, he was driven from his warm secure bed by an abrupt banging on the door. He could here screaming outside. Jackson ran to open the door. Rob stood there without shirt, in torn bloody jean shorts, with one sock on and one bare foot. He was holding up his hands. As soon as the door open he started talking franticly, holding up his hands “I didn’t do any thing, I swear, he fell is all, the old man fell.”
Jackson took one look and immediately ran to the phone, he called 911 and told the operator that there was some trouble and that someone was hurt badly, and gave her the address. While the operator was pleading with him to stay calm, to stay rational that every thing was going to be ok, that the autorities would handle it, and to stay on the line, Jackson hung up, put on a pair of shorts, and ran over to see what he could actually do to help.
When he entered the front door, Linda was kneeling in panties and bra, her bulging body spilling out of her underwear, screaming, trying to pet or rub Jackson’s head, which was broken open, blood and brains spilling out onto the floor. She was babbling that it would be ok, and that god loves them all, that the doctors, the smart doctors would fix it all up.
Jackson ran over to her and pulled her back, telling her that it was ok, that everything was going to be ok, that the doctors and police would make it ok, las you would tell a child that’s scared of the dark. Rob was backed up against the wall still screaming that he fell, that the old man fell, that he didn’t do anything.
Jackson stood for a time over the body, looking at the Ronny’s bleeding head. All hthe poor old man's life, his hard work, his memories, his personality, his needs and wants and dreams for his family, he hopes that his son could do better, all splattered across the cheap imitation tile. Jackson listened to the rapidly approaching authorites.
Jackson just wanted to go home, to get in bed, to cover his eyes with his warm blanket. He wanted to go home and pray that all this works out, because after all god has a plan for everyone. Jackson was powerless in this situation and it would be worked out somehow, in this world with this world's autorities, or in the next, with the angles and god and all that pretty pretty.
The cops came in and the paramedics ran in right after them and the last thing Jackson remembered seeing were the cops cuffing Rob. He climbed in bed and pulled the blankets over his eyes and tried to picture god, smiling, omnipresent, with a plan for everybody
His feeling of fineness was interrupted when he heard the neighbors yelling as he was settling into bed. This was getting to be a common occurrence. Jackson had bought the house a 5 years ago (another gift of sobriety), and it was a strange twist of fate that one of his old running buddies Rob, and his fiancé Linda were living with Rob’s grandfather Ronny next-door. Jackson had gotten sober but Rob never had, he had only gotten worse over the years, hit the skids, and had to move in with his grandfather Ronny. By that point neither Rob nor Linda had worked a steady job for some time. Rob said he had severe back problems that kept him from working, so instead stayed high on pain pills and booze, but got a little disability check each month. He went to a doctor that helped him with the process of filing for disability, and the two had developed a close working relationship over the years. Rob would spend most of his money on Hydrocodone and Dilaudid at the doctor’s office, and when he was running short he could get by on credit till the first of the month, or he could “borrow” some from his grandfather. Linda could not get along with anyone so she tended to get fired within a few months of starting a job so had no references or work history to speak of at 35. She also had a felony conviction for intent to distribute Zanex which made it hard to even get her foot in the door. She also had diabetes and complained about her knees hurting if she stood for more than an hour at a time. She was severely overweight.
Often Jackson would pull up from work and Rob and his blushing bride to be would be hanging out on the porch or the yard drinking beer and listening to music. They would invite him over to hang out and drink with them but he would always decline. He finally told Rob that he had cleaned up his act, and was sober, and didn’t drink beer anymore. Sometimes they would get to talking about the shape of Rob’s life and Jackson often asked him to come to meetings. It was becoming more and more apparent to Jackson that Rob’s life was spiraling out of control. Sometimes he would see Ronny outside yelling at Rob or Linda. The yard had become trashed since he moved in. The old man seemed very clean but it looked like his property was turning into a white trash heaven. Rob’s old pickup was parked in the yard, and had an oil leak. Rob was constantly working on this or that, constantly with plan of getting it on the road and doing some traveling etc..,
Jackson liked Ronny, he seemed a solid hard working type and reminded Jackson of his own father. He had talked with the old man and over the years and gleaned something of his past. He was born so poor that at least one of his siblings had died of what sounded like malnutrition or lack of proper care shortly after birth. The baby had been “birthed unnaturally by some no good witch doctor that didn’t know shit about medicine” at their 3 roomed house. The bank repossessed the farm and the family had to move west shortly after it's death. Ronny signed up for the military right after Perl Harbor and had to get special permission from his parents and the constable because he was only 16. He didn’t see any action but was sent to Hawaii and worked as a cook. He said it was the best thing could have happened to him. He got an education and learned a trade. Upon returning he got married to his high-school sweet heart, and got a job as a cook at the Local High School cafeteria. In time he worked his way up into an administration position with the school board overseeing the purchase and transportation of large amounts of food for all the schools in the district. He retired at 65 with full VA benefits and a nice retirement package from the state. His wife had died shortly thereafter and it was a blow because he wanted to spend his “golden years” with her. He had worked so hard, and seen her much less than he had wanted too. He had missed a lot of time with the family because he had to work, and a man had to work.
He was of the opinion that everyone could make it in America, given a little hard work and a little character and a little discipline. His brother had been a drunk and a bum who rode the rails, and by god he swore that he would never disappoint his mother the way his brother had. Ronny felt that sometimes people want to be bums and that was that. He had sent his only son to a good collage and wanted the boy to be something better than his father, the boy was smart as a whip, but he had the same problem as his uncle, and drank too much, and now he is a bum too, and never called.
For Ronny drinking and the bumming that went with it was a moral problem. Ronny’s only son was a heavy drinker, had finished college and then moved to California. Shortly thereafter Rob had come to live with his grandpaw because his father had become unable to support him. It had been 20 years since anyone in the family had heard from him. He winced a little when he talked about his son and it was apparent to Jackson that Ronny was very hurt about the situation. Ronny's sweet daughter lived in Michigan and had a good job with a large internet security firm and is married to an ex-Navy man, a good hard working man, thank god.
“See” Ronny would say, “you did it, you straightened up, so can my son and grandson, so can any man, he just has to pull his head out of his ass and work hard. This is America. Anyone can make it. I did it, you did it, anyone can do it. The only people who can’t make it in this country are the lazy and the degenerate. Simple as that…”
Jackson knew a little more about alcoholism, or at any rate had a different take on the problem, and tried to tell Ronny that is was not as easy as a problem of simple self-control, or moral degeneration, that it was a disease, both physical and spiritual, and that once it gets ahold of you it takes more than a simple “decision” to break loose. He tried to tell Ronny that Rob was very sick, and that he would have to get sober before he could get and keep a job, and that would take some help, the help of others. Kicking him out might not be a gbad idea, but he had to treat him with the care one would treat a sick person, and not try and shame him. He feels enough shame as it is.
“Bullshit” Ronny would say. “I’m about to kick that no good lazy bastard out, just like I did his dirty hippy dad. I'm not gonna be made a fool twice. I supported his dad for years and all the sudden he just quits calling. He just threw me to the trash heap when he don’t need money. Me and Martha never raised him to be that selfish. Look at his sister, she’s an angel, we raied those kids right. And I damn near raised Rob too cause his no good dad was off doing whatever. Am I supposed to just carry him the rest of his life? I tried to send him to school and he stayed loaded and dropped out his first semester. I can’t get him to work, or anything. He is lazy and disrespectful, and that nasty pig of his is eating me out of house and home.”
Sometime after Jackson’s prayers thanking god for his sobriety, he was driven from his warm secure bed by an abrupt banging on the door. He could here screaming outside. Jackson ran to open the door. Rob stood there without shirt, in torn bloody jean shorts, with one sock on and one bare foot. He was holding up his hands. As soon as the door open he started talking franticly, holding up his hands “I didn’t do any thing, I swear, he fell is all, the old man fell.”
Jackson took one look and immediately ran to the phone, he called 911 and told the operator that there was some trouble and that someone was hurt badly, and gave her the address. While the operator was pleading with him to stay calm, to stay rational that every thing was going to be ok, that the autorities would handle it, and to stay on the line, Jackson hung up, put on a pair of shorts, and ran over to see what he could actually do to help.
When he entered the front door, Linda was kneeling in panties and bra, her bulging body spilling out of her underwear, screaming, trying to pet or rub Jackson’s head, which was broken open, blood and brains spilling out onto the floor. She was babbling that it would be ok, and that god loves them all, that the doctors, the smart doctors would fix it all up.
Jackson ran over to her and pulled her back, telling her that it was ok, that everything was going to be ok, that the doctors and police would make it ok, las you would tell a child that’s scared of the dark. Rob was backed up against the wall still screaming that he fell, that the old man fell, that he didn’t do anything.
Jackson stood for a time over the body, looking at the Ronny’s bleeding head. All hthe poor old man's life, his hard work, his memories, his personality, his needs and wants and dreams for his family, he hopes that his son could do better, all splattered across the cheap imitation tile. Jackson listened to the rapidly approaching authorites.
Jackson just wanted to go home, to get in bed, to cover his eyes with his warm blanket. He wanted to go home and pray that all this works out, because after all god has a plan for everyone. Jackson was powerless in this situation and it would be worked out somehow, in this world with this world's autorities, or in the next, with the angles and god and all that pretty pretty.
The cops came in and the paramedics ran in right after them and the last thing Jackson remembered seeing were the cops cuffing Rob. He climbed in bed and pulled the blankets over his eyes and tried to picture god, smiling, omnipresent, with a plan for everybody
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Grand Dead (thank u god dub)
It was Jackson’s 11 year sobriety birthday and he was feeling fine driving home from the AA hall. Life was finally starting to smooth out. Jackson had a good job at the plant, a fine woman for girlfriend, and had regained a relationship with his family, and most importantly the stormy waters of his mind had smoothed a little. And to make things even better this year he had finally quit smoking! It was a battle but he did it, with God’s help of course. He was fond of telling people that God was finally doing for him what he could not do for himself. After a warm bath complete with bath salts, he was all ready to lay it down in for the night.
His feeling of fineness was interrupted when he heard the neighbors yelling as he was settling into bed. This was getting to be a common occurrence. Jackson had bought the house a 5 years ago (another gift of sobriety), and it was a strange twist of fate that one of his old running buddies Rob, and his fiancé Linda were living with Rob’s grandfather Ronny next-door. Jackson had gotten sober but Rob never had, he had only gotten worse over the years, hit the skids, and had to move in with his grandfather Ronny. By that point neither Rob nor Linda had worked a steady job for some time. Rob said he had severe back problems that kept him from working, so instead stayed high on pain pills and booze, but got a little disability check each month. He went to a doctor that helped him with the process of filing for disability, and the two had developed a close working relationship over the years. Rob would spend most of his money on Hydrocodone and Dilaudid at the doctor’s office, and when he was running short he could get by on credit till the first of the month, or he could “borrow” some from his grandfather. Linda could not get along with anyone so she tended to get fired within a few months of starting a job so had no references or work history to speak of at 35. She also had a felony conviction for intent to distribute Zanex which made it hard to even get her foot in the door. She also had diabetes and complained about her knees hurting if she stood for more than an hour at a time. She was severely overweight.
Often Jackson would pull up from work and Rob and his blushing bride to be would be hanging out on the porch or the yard drinking beer and listening to music. They would invite him over to hang out and drink with them but he would always decline. He finally told Rob that he had cleaned up his act, and was sober, and didn’t drink beer anymore. Sometimes they would get to talking about the shape of Rob’s life and Jackson often asked him to come to meetings. It was becoming more and more apparent to Jackson that Rob’s life was spiraling out of control. Sometimes he would see Ronny outside yelling at Rob or Linda. The yard had become trashed since he moved in. The old man seemed very clean but it looked like his property was turning into a white trash heaven. Rob’s old pickup was parked in the yard, and had an oil leak. Rob was constantly working on this or that, constantly with plan of getting it on the road and doing some traveling etc..,
Jackson liked Ronny, he seemed a solid hard working type and reminded Jackson of his own father. He had talked with the old man and over the years and gleaned something of his past. He was born so poor that at least one of his siblings had died of what sounded like malnutrition or lack of proper care shortly after birth. The baby had been “birthed unnaturally by some no good witch doctor that didn’t know shit about medicine” at their 3 roomed house. The bank repossessed the farm and the family had to move west shortly after it's death. Ronny signed up for the military right after Perl Harbor and had to get special permission from his parents and the constable because he was only 16. He didn’t see any action but was sent to Hawaii and worked as a cook. He said it was the best thing could have happened to him. He got an education and learned a trade. Upon returning he got married to his high-school sweet heart, and got a job as a cook at the Local High School cafeteria. In time he worked his way up into an administration position with the school board overseeing the purchase and transportation of large amounts of food for all the schools in the district. He retired at 65 with full VA benefits and a nice retirement package from the state. His wife had died shortly thereafter and it was a blow because he wanted to spend his “golden years” with her. He had worked so hard, and seen her much less than he had wanted too. He had missed a lot of time with the family because he had to work, and a man had to work.
He was of the opinion that everyone could make it in America, given a little hard work and a little character and a little discipline. His brother had been a drunk and a bum who rode the rails, and by god he swore that he would never disapoint his mother the way his brother had. Sometimes people want to be bums and that was that. He had sent his only son to a good collage and wanted the boy to be something better than his father, the boy was smart as a whip, but he had the same problem as his uncle, and drank too much, and now he is a bum too, and never called.
For Ronny drinking and the bumming that went with it was a moral problem. Ronny’s only son was a heavy drinker, had finished college and then moved to California. It had been four years since anyone in the family had heard from him. He winced a little when he talked about his son and it was apparent to Jackson that Ronny was very hurt about the situation. Ronny's sweet daughter lived in Michigan and had a good job with a large internet security firm and is married to an ex Navy man, a good hard working man, thank god.
“See” Ronny would say, “you did it, you straightened up, so can my son and grandson, so can any man, he just has to pull his head out of his ass and work hard. This is America. Anyone can make it. I did it, you did it, anyone can do it. The only people who can’t make it in this country are the lazy and the degenerate. Simple as that…”
Jackson knew a little more about alcoholism, or at any rate had a different take on the problem, and tried to tell Ronny that is was not as easy as a problem of simple self-control, or moral degeneration, that it was a disease, both physical and spiritual, and that once it gets ahold of you it takes more than a simple “decision” to break loose. He tried to tell Ronny that Rob was very sick, and that he would have to get sober before he could get and keep a job, and that would take some help, the help of others. Kicking him out might not be a gbad idea, but he had to treat him with the care one would treat a sick person, and not try and shame him. He feels enough shame as it is.
“Bullshit” Ronny would say. “I’m about to kick that no good lazy bastard out, just like I did his dirty hippy dad. I'm not gonna be made a fool twice. I supported his dad for years and all the sudden he just quits calling. He just threw me to the trash heap when he don’t need money. Me and Martha never raised him to be that selfish. Look at his sister, she’s an angel, we raied those kids right. And I damn near raised Rob too cause his no good dad was off doing whatever. Am I supposed to just carry him the rest of his life? I tried to send him to school and he stayed loaded and dropped out his first semester. I can’t get him to work, or anything. He is lazy and disrespectful, and that nasty pig of his is eating me out of house and home.”
Jackson would nod and just tell him to pray about it.
To be cont….
His feeling of fineness was interrupted when he heard the neighbors yelling as he was settling into bed. This was getting to be a common occurrence. Jackson had bought the house a 5 years ago (another gift of sobriety), and it was a strange twist of fate that one of his old running buddies Rob, and his fiancé Linda were living with Rob’s grandfather Ronny next-door. Jackson had gotten sober but Rob never had, he had only gotten worse over the years, hit the skids, and had to move in with his grandfather Ronny. By that point neither Rob nor Linda had worked a steady job for some time. Rob said he had severe back problems that kept him from working, so instead stayed high on pain pills and booze, but got a little disability check each month. He went to a doctor that helped him with the process of filing for disability, and the two had developed a close working relationship over the years. Rob would spend most of his money on Hydrocodone and Dilaudid at the doctor’s office, and when he was running short he could get by on credit till the first of the month, or he could “borrow” some from his grandfather. Linda could not get along with anyone so she tended to get fired within a few months of starting a job so had no references or work history to speak of at 35. She also had a felony conviction for intent to distribute Zanex which made it hard to even get her foot in the door. She also had diabetes and complained about her knees hurting if she stood for more than an hour at a time. She was severely overweight.
Often Jackson would pull up from work and Rob and his blushing bride to be would be hanging out on the porch or the yard drinking beer and listening to music. They would invite him over to hang out and drink with them but he would always decline. He finally told Rob that he had cleaned up his act, and was sober, and didn’t drink beer anymore. Sometimes they would get to talking about the shape of Rob’s life and Jackson often asked him to come to meetings. It was becoming more and more apparent to Jackson that Rob’s life was spiraling out of control. Sometimes he would see Ronny outside yelling at Rob or Linda. The yard had become trashed since he moved in. The old man seemed very clean but it looked like his property was turning into a white trash heaven. Rob’s old pickup was parked in the yard, and had an oil leak. Rob was constantly working on this or that, constantly with plan of getting it on the road and doing some traveling etc..,
Jackson liked Ronny, he seemed a solid hard working type and reminded Jackson of his own father. He had talked with the old man and over the years and gleaned something of his past. He was born so poor that at least one of his siblings had died of what sounded like malnutrition or lack of proper care shortly after birth. The baby had been “birthed unnaturally by some no good witch doctor that didn’t know shit about medicine” at their 3 roomed house. The bank repossessed the farm and the family had to move west shortly after it's death. Ronny signed up for the military right after Perl Harbor and had to get special permission from his parents and the constable because he was only 16. He didn’t see any action but was sent to Hawaii and worked as a cook. He said it was the best thing could have happened to him. He got an education and learned a trade. Upon returning he got married to his high-school sweet heart, and got a job as a cook at the Local High School cafeteria. In time he worked his way up into an administration position with the school board overseeing the purchase and transportation of large amounts of food for all the schools in the district. He retired at 65 with full VA benefits and a nice retirement package from the state. His wife had died shortly thereafter and it was a blow because he wanted to spend his “golden years” with her. He had worked so hard, and seen her much less than he had wanted too. He had missed a lot of time with the family because he had to work, and a man had to work.
He was of the opinion that everyone could make it in America, given a little hard work and a little character and a little discipline. His brother had been a drunk and a bum who rode the rails, and by god he swore that he would never disapoint his mother the way his brother had. Sometimes people want to be bums and that was that. He had sent his only son to a good collage and wanted the boy to be something better than his father, the boy was smart as a whip, but he had the same problem as his uncle, and drank too much, and now he is a bum too, and never called.
For Ronny drinking and the bumming that went with it was a moral problem. Ronny’s only son was a heavy drinker, had finished college and then moved to California. It had been four years since anyone in the family had heard from him. He winced a little when he talked about his son and it was apparent to Jackson that Ronny was very hurt about the situation. Ronny's sweet daughter lived in Michigan and had a good job with a large internet security firm and is married to an ex Navy man, a good hard working man, thank god.
“See” Ronny would say, “you did it, you straightened up, so can my son and grandson, so can any man, he just has to pull his head out of his ass and work hard. This is America. Anyone can make it. I did it, you did it, anyone can do it. The only people who can’t make it in this country are the lazy and the degenerate. Simple as that…”
Jackson knew a little more about alcoholism, or at any rate had a different take on the problem, and tried to tell Ronny that is was not as easy as a problem of simple self-control, or moral degeneration, that it was a disease, both physical and spiritual, and that once it gets ahold of you it takes more than a simple “decision” to break loose. He tried to tell Ronny that Rob was very sick, and that he would have to get sober before he could get and keep a job, and that would take some help, the help of others. Kicking him out might not be a gbad idea, but he had to treat him with the care one would treat a sick person, and not try and shame him. He feels enough shame as it is.
“Bullshit” Ronny would say. “I’m about to kick that no good lazy bastard out, just like I did his dirty hippy dad. I'm not gonna be made a fool twice. I supported his dad for years and all the sudden he just quits calling. He just threw me to the trash heap when he don’t need money. Me and Martha never raised him to be that selfish. Look at his sister, she’s an angel, we raied those kids right. And I damn near raised Rob too cause his no good dad was off doing whatever. Am I supposed to just carry him the rest of his life? I tried to send him to school and he stayed loaded and dropped out his first semester. I can’t get him to work, or anything. He is lazy and disrespectful, and that nasty pig of his is eating me out of house and home.”
Jackson would nod and just tell him to pray about it.
To be cont….
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Olympian
Jacob was feeling good, and why shouldn’t he? His law firm had the best month that he could remember, his daughter was in a good school, making good grades, his son just got a promotion at the law firm, and his wife was at that bitch of a stepmom’s and, for the next week all he was going to do was get fucked up and party with stripers. He was damn happy he stepped out on a limb and got the condo in the city. Of course the wife had complained at first, but after reminding her who brought home the bacon, (and lots of it) and making the case that being closer to the firm would allow him to be more productive, she finally saw it his way. Of course the diamond tennis bracelet didn’t hurt either.
After a night of cocaine and other vices, Jacob always found it helpful to eat a few Hydrocodones to take the edge off the come down. As he was driving home he could feel the warm sensation starting to wash over him, each wave a little more pleasant. “Yes”, he thought, "it had been a good night, and sleep will come thankfully soon".
Any nagging residue of guilt for the things he had done would be fixed by the drugs and the fun he would have tomorrow. "Besides", Jacob mused, "everybody had fun, no one got hurt, the girls and the drug dealers made a few bucks, nad I got what I needed, and I deserve it. Capitalism at it’s best, and lord knows it’s been good to me".
He settled into the plush leather of his Porsche. The best thing about having a Porsche is knowing how the little people looked at him when they saw what he was driving, and how the word spread throughout the club what he was driving. Strangely enough, he always tended to get more attention from the girls when he drove the Porsche. As well he should. He had done this for himself, he made it. He made it because he was smarter, harder working, and more cunning than the rest. "That’s justice", he thought. The only justice that’s worth the name, the people who have things are the people who work hard, and the people who have the guts and the capability and brains and the upbringing to make it. That’s a man’s job, to provide, to make it, and men are rightly ranked by how well they do in this respect.
For people like us, the millionaires, perhaps we more than men in a weird way. Jacob liked this thought. Everyone needed people to look up to, to emulate, and the little people have guys like us, guys who could push their way to the top while they stalled at the bottom. He laughed out loud at the perfect sense it all made. Without us, their betters, they would be more inclined to be skeptical, and skepticism is the mark of a sick society. People need their royalty, there betters. We show that you can make it in America. And, it gives them a sense of place to be ranked below us. It’s a good system.
Walking up to his apartment he was startled by a voice from behind, “Excuse me sir”.
He spun around. Standing a few feet from him was an old man in torn rags, with a long dreaded beard. “excuse me sir, I’m sorry to startle you, I’m a traveler and I don’t know anyone in this town, I’m looking for a warm bed and perhaps a meal. I’m an old man and I’ve traveled a long way, and still have far to go.”
Jacob was stunned. His brain clattered, "How the hell did this trash get in the gate! Where the hell did he come from, he just came out of nowhere! Probably because he has lots of experience sneaking up on people, he looks like some kind of dirty pervert. Needs money I’m sure. What a looser. How can people let them selves sink so low. I guess that's justice too".
Jacob was stunned at the call of the bum, “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are but you must be fucking crazy if you think anyone in their right mind is going to let you in their house. Most of you guys just ask for money, but you have some balls.” He started to reach into his pocket.
The bearded man responded, “I’m sorry to have offended you sir, it’s just that where I’m from travelers are offered hospitality, it’s the law, I thought it was universal."
Jacob laughed “The law, ha, you must be from Cuba or Uzbekistan or something. I don’t care what you barbarian communists do, in America everyone rows his own boat, that’s fairness, no one rows it for you and you are not asked to row anyone else’s, that’s justice, but since I’m in a good mood all I’ll over you a few bucks, even though I know it's wrong, or more exactly, unjust.
The old man raised his hand “I’m sorry sir, please keep your money, I wanted hospitality,not money, travelers should always be offered hospitality, as long as they don’t take advantage. You have queer ideas of justice . You know, where I’m from, to break the law of hospitality is a terrible offense, punishable by strict retribution.
Something had blown in Jacobs eye, and he was getting sleepy, the Hydrocodone was working it’s magic. He was rubbing his eyes and yawned, “listen old man, my eye burns and I’m very tired, I tried to give you a few bucks and that’s all I can do, so spare me your silly lecture and get the hell out of here before I call the police.”
Jacob turned to go. He had a hard time negotiating the elevator to his condo because his eye was burning a little. When he got upstairs he washed his face with warm water and felt immediately better. The wine and hydrocodone were working fine. He walked to the balcony for one last smoke. He didn’t realize how early it was. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon. “Good god” he thought, “I’ve been at it all night, like I was 18.” The sun was spilling red over the city. Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he had seen such a red sun rise. He went to bed, and dreamed he eye was being ripped from his skull.
After a night of cocaine and other vices, Jacob always found it helpful to eat a few Hydrocodones to take the edge off the come down. As he was driving home he could feel the warm sensation starting to wash over him, each wave a little more pleasant. “Yes”, he thought, "it had been a good night, and sleep will come thankfully soon".
Any nagging residue of guilt for the things he had done would be fixed by the drugs and the fun he would have tomorrow. "Besides", Jacob mused, "everybody had fun, no one got hurt, the girls and the drug dealers made a few bucks, nad I got what I needed, and I deserve it. Capitalism at it’s best, and lord knows it’s been good to me".
He settled into the plush leather of his Porsche. The best thing about having a Porsche is knowing how the little people looked at him when they saw what he was driving, and how the word spread throughout the club what he was driving. Strangely enough, he always tended to get more attention from the girls when he drove the Porsche. As well he should. He had done this for himself, he made it. He made it because he was smarter, harder working, and more cunning than the rest. "That’s justice", he thought. The only justice that’s worth the name, the people who have things are the people who work hard, and the people who have the guts and the capability and brains and the upbringing to make it. That’s a man’s job, to provide, to make it, and men are rightly ranked by how well they do in this respect.
For people like us, the millionaires, perhaps we more than men in a weird way. Jacob liked this thought. Everyone needed people to look up to, to emulate, and the little people have guys like us, guys who could push their way to the top while they stalled at the bottom. He laughed out loud at the perfect sense it all made. Without us, their betters, they would be more inclined to be skeptical, and skepticism is the mark of a sick society. People need their royalty, there betters. We show that you can make it in America. And, it gives them a sense of place to be ranked below us. It’s a good system.
Walking up to his apartment he was startled by a voice from behind, “Excuse me sir”.
He spun around. Standing a few feet from him was an old man in torn rags, with a long dreaded beard. “excuse me sir, I’m sorry to startle you, I’m a traveler and I don’t know anyone in this town, I’m looking for a warm bed and perhaps a meal. I’m an old man and I’ve traveled a long way, and still have far to go.”
Jacob was stunned. His brain clattered, "How the hell did this trash get in the gate! Where the hell did he come from, he just came out of nowhere! Probably because he has lots of experience sneaking up on people, he looks like some kind of dirty pervert. Needs money I’m sure. What a looser. How can people let them selves sink so low. I guess that's justice too".
Jacob was stunned at the call of the bum, “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are but you must be fucking crazy if you think anyone in their right mind is going to let you in their house. Most of you guys just ask for money, but you have some balls.” He started to reach into his pocket.
The bearded man responded, “I’m sorry to have offended you sir, it’s just that where I’m from travelers are offered hospitality, it’s the law, I thought it was universal."
Jacob laughed “The law, ha, you must be from Cuba or Uzbekistan or something. I don’t care what you barbarian communists do, in America everyone rows his own boat, that’s fairness, no one rows it for you and you are not asked to row anyone else’s, that’s justice, but since I’m in a good mood all I’ll over you a few bucks, even though I know it's wrong, or more exactly, unjust.
The old man raised his hand “I’m sorry sir, please keep your money, I wanted hospitality,not money, travelers should always be offered hospitality, as long as they don’t take advantage. You have queer ideas of justice . You know, where I’m from, to break the law of hospitality is a terrible offense, punishable by strict retribution.
Something had blown in Jacobs eye, and he was getting sleepy, the Hydrocodone was working it’s magic. He was rubbing his eyes and yawned, “listen old man, my eye burns and I’m very tired, I tried to give you a few bucks and that’s all I can do, so spare me your silly lecture and get the hell out of here before I call the police.”
Jacob turned to go. He had a hard time negotiating the elevator to his condo because his eye was burning a little. When he got upstairs he washed his face with warm water and felt immediately better. The wine and hydrocodone were working fine. He walked to the balcony for one last smoke. He didn’t realize how early it was. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon. “Good god” he thought, “I’ve been at it all night, like I was 18.” The sun was spilling red over the city. Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he had seen such a red sun rise. He went to bed, and dreamed he eye was being ripped from his skull.
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