We’ve All Gone Crazy Lately
Associations. Negative associations are horrible. I got one today and I almost choked on it. This afternoon I was cleaning out my backyard. I dragged a couple hundred pounds of scrap metal out to the front. Even though I knew it would only be a matter of time before some joker with poor hygiene in a shitty pick-up truck snagged it, I wasn’t comfortable leaving it for some old bead to break their dentures on. I live in a neighbourhood full of old folks and the last thing I need is a death on my conscience. Either that or a bill for an electrical wheelchair repair. I’ve only been here for a week, but I would like to maintain a good rapport with these lovable and goofy geriatrics.
Negative associations. I remembered an old friend of mine who lived in the shitty Strathbarton area of Hamilton who collected scrap metal. It was a good residual income for him. It helped pay for a trailer he liked to vacation in. He was a decent guy. I would offer the metal to him.
I drove to his neighbourhood. The second I arrived I felt sick to my stomach. Someone I used to hang out with lives in the same neighbourhood. A guy named Badge. I knew Badge since I was thirteen. He used to hang out with my older brother. Badge likes to tell groups of people in front of me that he used to beat me up, but he didn’t. He was just talking shit. But that was all Badge was good for. Talking shit.
I didn’t want to be seen by Badge near his house. It would have just been an ugly scene. He would have either engaged me in an attempt to rekindle a laughable friendship or he would have talked shit. Talking shit to someone who knows where you live is never smart.
Thankfully, Badge was nowhere to be seen. I pulled up in front of the sheet metal guy’s house. He was already standing in the driveway drinking beer with friends. Jesus. It was a depressing site. Here I am pulling up in a shiny modern car on this rathole street.
I got out of the car. The beer drinkers stared at me like they never saw a person with a life up close. It irritated me so I told them to take a picture, it would last longer. As I walked toward the house I suddenly found myself wanting to turn and hobble back to my car top-speed. But I had already committed to engaging the friend. I told him faster than I probably should have that I had some scrap metal for him. I honestly can’t remember what his response was. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. He asked me why I was walking with a cane. I told him about my back being fuckered ever since I passed a stone last year.
Then we left the neighbourhood faster than you could spit. I will NEVER go back to that neighbourhood again. FUCK that neighbourhood. The only reason I went back the last few times was to see a dog I gave to Badge’s ex-wife, Shannon. I have since learned Shannon got wise and left Badge. Thank fucking Christ for that. At least now her son, Austin, MIGHT have a chance. The poor kid is already fucked up as it is. Badge hated him and treated him so. Last couple of times I saw Austin he looked like a bitter ugly chick. I can’t blame him. I know what it feels like to have a step-father who hated me.
Badge better tiptoe. There is a reason my stepdad lives ten million miles away from me. He’s a coward. Badge is one of the biggest cowards I’ve ever met in my life. His big mouth got me in a lot of hot water with good people because he used to be my drummer. Regardless, Austin is going to be bigger than Badge. That’s a fact. And there will definitely be a reckoning.
It’s all really shitty. I hate people who fuck their kids up. It breaks my heart.
Anyway this is all the shit that I thought about when I pulled up on Badge’s street. Among other things.
I could write a book about that fucking douche. But I just don’t have that kind of time.
This gets better.
I went to a flea market, because well, flea markets fucking rule! We ended up finding as nice table for the kitchen. We bought it from an old guy that was my size. He also walked with a cane. He was the same shape. He told us he had a heart attack the week previous and he had to be carried out of there.
It got me to thinking about a mere few days ago. While experiencing a great detail of stress, my right hand was suddenly struck with a dull numbing pain. The pain shot up my arm and then directly into my chest. I went down. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t do anything but lay there silently.
I was ok after about a half hour but I’ve felt winded ever since.
I’m in fucking horrible shape. And I’ll tell you I look fucking ridiculous. Especially today. Going out in sweat pants and a big baggy green shirt looking like the Incredible Bulk.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that guy as I carried the small table out to the car.
Love is important. Try it sometime, you angry fucking cunts.