yum yum delirium

I went for a walk the other night. A much needed one at that. I was exhausted, stoned, a little buzzed and all things yum yum delirium. The weekend had provided many an excuse for a break.

Thursday night was the usual at steak palace, I was stoned, and in no mood to be dealing with jackass guests. The usual banter between co-workers and getting another talking to from management regarding my "comments." I have gotten quite used to those "sit downs".
After work I briefly hit the patio, got offered a job at Starbucks. but I wasn't really feeling the vibe, and peaced out to Spaghettiland. Lately I have been wondering a lot about the "friends" in my life. There have been several times where I have been in a room full of them and still felt terribly alone, and I don't think it's depression, but it might be time for me to leave this crazy city.
I drank far too much that night, and before long was out of control. Thankfully I had the kid and Lisa to wrangle me up and get me in a cab.
The next morning I had two ambitions, take some painkillers and find breakfast before getting to work.

Being a complete glutton for punishment I agreed to work the dreaded lunch shift at steak palace. I entered the front doors, and immediately felt dizzy from the transition of the bright sun to the dark and cavelike quarters. I made my best effort to not throw up while serving beer and tequila in my section, but then something happened-something I was not prepared for.
Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears have made an art of flashing their lady business around Hollywood, and good on them, I guess when you know what you are good at you should do it. Sadly, the same wasn't the case for the lady sitting a table nine. I was turning the corner, feeling dizzy, bracing the weight of the tray of beer and steak knives on my palm and for some unknown reason (aside from God wanting to punish me) I looked over and caught the execution of the Sharon Stone "Indecent Proposal" leg uncross. What I saw was tramuatizing, stomach turning and down right disrespectful- full bush. Seriously, if I had ever questioned my sexuality this was the clincher. Trying to balance myself climbing two stairs, a full tray of drinks, hungover and dry-heaving silently after the sight of that shrouded lady flower was my personal Vietnam at half-past twelve on Friday afternoon.
My last table had finally paid and left and I had only had to endure two hours of punishment before I was meeting Lisa and the kid for lunch at some new restaurant with clipboard -thin plates. "Double Caesar please."

Before long we found ourselves at such a familiar location, we were back at the park. The very place that has seemingly been the set for several very interesting relationships.
Lisa.
It was interesting, sitting in the park and already trying imagine myself remembering that very moment well enough to put it to words. The kid was thumbing through some book and I was writing in my journal. While he was reading an excerpt to me I swore I could smell him as the breeze picked up, as it does when the rain clouds creep over the mountains and the sun begins it's game of hide and seek. I will never be able to recall what he had said to me, it was pronounced perfectly and spoken so softly, yet far too intelligent for me to have understood.

I was wondering if there was a stark difference between a persons "character" and their "true self"?

Part two of my dreaded split shift at the palace kicked off around 5:30, and having decided that I was in the mood to party again I met up with Lisa for a night of drinking the minute I cashed out. Our scottish friend created a drink that would put most if not all alcoholics to shame. This had 12 shots of Vodka, 3 shots of tequila and 2 beers... mixed with a fruity slush and served with 5 straws... after two of these one thing was clear, but I couldn't tell what that was. Insta-shitfaced. Then we smoked three joints and decided to hit the strip club, it was like a night out in Vegas, but there was a serious difference, this was NOT Vegas. The flashing neon lights, palm trees and slot machines had been replaced by a parking lot trolled by the homeless, a hot dog vendor and prostitutes. After overpaying for cover and a beer we sat just behind pervert row and kept the party going. On the way out I noticed that Lisa had indeed made friends with the hotdog vendor, and then a fight broke out. Two beer fueled straight guys were going fist to cuffs on the sidewalk, one had apparently suggested the others girlfriend was a chubby (true) bitchy (true) slut (rightfully assumed). What is it with the breeders and feeling compelled to defend everything with their fists? One of them got taken to the ground mere feet away from me and the sound of meathead hitting the cement was enough to make me want to petition to have bicycle helmets handed out as doorprizes to the guys who win the most prizes from tossing coins at stripper swamp-crotch.
Lisa looked at me, hot dog in hand and we both shuttered.

The next morning (12:30 pm) I woke up, and retrieved the half bottle of Shiraz from the basement and headed down to my mothers for afternoon drinks. Lisa joined a few minutes later, and there we were having beer, wine and vodka for breakfast with my mother, her bestfriend and my grandmother.
By the time we left at 6 I had the game plan of an early evening nap. Lisa, on the other hand had other ambitions. Two hours into my nap I awoke to the choir of mexicans next door laughing their asses off. I went to the window, and just as my eyes started to focus I heard her voice. She was partying with them, and when I called her name she responded "I am in Mexico!"
She came inside and told me that it was very good Tequila and that they were going to be making us homemade salsa and guacamole, what a hunter gatherer.

She took a nap on the couch and I got ready for a moving away party. I have been attending an awful lot of those this year, and I am always secretly jealous of the lucky ones who are dropping a lot, packing up the rest and taking off. The party was actually more fun than I had anticipated, and all was going well until around four in the morning, when Lisa fell.

I came out to the porch and saw Lisa standing by the railing. She leaned back to light her cigarette, and the top part of the railing gave way. She fell eight feet backwards, and landed on cement. I will never be able to put to words how I felt during the next four minutes. I still feel sick thinking about it.

We checked her into the hospital, and after a few days she came home. Something tells me that she will not be a fan of wearing a backbrace for the rest of the summer, but on the other hand, I bet she's thankful that she is able to walk.

I feel so callous about a lot of the things that are spinning around my nervous mind. All of a sudden it turns to being just the feeling of empty. A machine that is programmed to wake up, get on the bus, run errands, go to work, drink and return home.... lather rinse repeat.

Everything seemed like it was on the edge of a rebirth, and that is when I realized that it was just a fluffy variation of change.
(with all due respect to Buddhists, Born Again Christians and anyone who ever bought a Jennifer Lopez album.)