So I crawled on my hands and feet looking for my watch cord to charge it. STILL didn’t find it. Helped carry the groceries in from the van. It sounds like a very easy day but not for me. Pain Journal here, that should let you know the body I was “blessed” with.
The shuttle sweeps along its rails as an ice dancer without a partner. The low hum of the engine vibrates the vinal that I currently sit in. The Train, subtle, inviting. As I have gathered from all the clues on my person, destination is un-determined at the present. You see, on a dare a friend purchased a ticket for me, and his friend, the steward are keeping the ticket from me.
I’ve would have never, EVER done anything like this two weeks ago. I am as people say… straight laced. The routine guy. The sad little man behind the cubicle entering numbers from column A to B and so on. I eat alone, I sleep alone, I, am alone. I really don’t see what the problem is though. Nothing seems missing yet, everyone asks me what’s wrong. I think I just don’t fit into the box that some people call “normal” I suppose. Jake, my only real friend I met since I moved here 5 years ago. He calls me a Cool Looser. Out of love of course. I hope.
I met Jake while applying for my first ever job after moving to the city. We were both applying for the same job. I was 45 minutes early of course. He walks in with 5 to spare, tie disheveled, suit coat half on with wrinkled papers sticking out of his tattered, patched, very old briefcase. After the door closes behind him, he politely composes himself, clears his throat gently and then walks toward me. The seat was vacant next to me, in fact all five of them were but he chose the one right next to me… and that was it. I am not so big with the words but jake spoke for both of us. He asked, “After we both bomb this interview, lets say we get a few beers and talk about life and shit?” I reply back with, “um…” and there we were, at Ernie’s Bar on east thirty-fifth and Summit avenue.
And there we were. I was over-qualified and unsure about Jake’s interview although I can imagine. With $47.03 cents in my bank account until my next payout from my grandmothers will, she was weird like that. Allowing not one lump sum but a payout over each months time of exactly $1000.00 per month allowed me to pay bills, print resumes, and food/drink and whatever self indulgence I might procure. There was none.
Nana made her fortune in oil. Old money inherited from ancestor to ancestor. I, to be honest, have no idea how the fortune was actually made but it was an abundance. I, being adopted was only worth a grand a month due to not being full blood “Buxley.” Buxley and Simon own half of the town, including 2 hotels, 3 banks, and countless other businesses abroad… and a llama farm. The farm? Yeah, I didn’t ask on that one. I do have access to the country club but have never went. Too many people and I am how you say, the cornucopia of social awkwardness.
Jake bought the first, second and third rounds of shots. I was reluctant to accept but Jake has a way of talking people into just about anything. I know that one thing happened that night, and that one thing is that… I.. just don’t remember.
Here I sit. On a train, I smell rancid. But dressed in a whole new wardrobe, and a nice one at that. I look around and see no one. Not one solitary person. The track seemed to lull me back to sleep, as my now pounding head starts bobbing I open my right eye to see a piece of nicely folded paper in my front right pocket, half out of it I grabbed the parchment and began unfolding it. It read (In Jake’s handwriting) ”
Just sitting out in the living room, I usually write in my bedroom. I thought that I would get a little scenery. To late to sit outside. Perhaps tomorrow I will try that. I am have been having a quite a few bad nightmares. Nothing I tell people specifics and I won’t here today. They ask and I say, you know, the typical. Fear of falling or locked in a room and can’t find out my way out. The honest thing it that is scares me to my very core. They are very different from one another.
Nothing had changed in my diet, different meds for depression but had the nightmares prior. I think its stress. Stress from my job, kids, everything.No different than anyone else. Just cant shake them. and they are getting more graphic. I don’t read or watch gore or read anything of the sort in my spare time. Not my cup of tea.
My youngest son just stopped his game and told me he loved me and hugged me for no reason. Went back to playing his game.
Its what its all about right. Unconditional love. I have everything, people that love me, and I them. These nightmares make me question everything, what I wouldn’t give to get rid of them, and get back to being me. Starting to effect me in my awake times. Sounds like a Freddy Kruger movie (look it up if you don’t know who that is).
More to come later…
A semi dark room, the piano plays smooth jazz, it’s edges are entertained with silver leaflets. The cigarette smoke encircles the air. In the background are the scuffs and gentle taps on the stage of the Bass and Drums. A harmonica is heard off in the distance as from a slightly open window a train’s reflectors cast shows on the narrow wall behind them. They were free to think and feel. Some to wallow in their drinks, Others to enjoy the simple times.
One riding the storm out
Don’t know which way is wrong and right
Riding the storm out
Like IT was JUST another day
Wouldn’t remember it ANY other way
Soon we were riding the storm not as one
But as two
Our love was a solid flame
The fire in our hearts found the glimmer in our eyes
Soon we were riding not for two, but three
There was rain and there was thunder
We hung on to one another
Our family grew a little more
When Three became four