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Monday, December 26, 2011

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 3 Back in Albany New York


Marci leads the way up the stairs, I’m in the middle and Dave follows up the rear. I am now positive than ever that he wants to drop me and leave. He seems nervous and keeps looking at his watch. I can’t remember if he left the car running.

As we get closer to the top of the stairs the banister opens up and creates a landing. My eyes now clear the landing and the smell of unwashed filth flicks my nose. “On the Dark Side” is now on its third repeat. 

As we walk into the landing I can see someone with their back to me standing across the room. He is standing over the stereo slowly listing from side to side. He wears dirty white Keds. His jeans are slightly belled at the bottom; they meet a sweater vest covering a bright orange colored print. The back of his long greasy hair brushes the collar of the shirt and I can hear him mumbling the lyrics along with the record. He nervously pushes his hair behind his ears.

“Jonathan!” Marci screams over his music. Jonathan’s head bobs up like he had just nodded off and he begins to turn in my direction. “Huh?” he’s says as he turns around. It’s more like a slow pan of a camera on the late movie. He lurches forward and turns clumsily. It is like watching a George Romero Zombie smelling fresh blood.

When he finally turns around it’s like meeting a George Romero Zombie. He is slightly hunchbacked and weighing in at 20 pounds. He is filthy. Filthy hair, filthy clothes and a quick look around tells me it’s a filthy house.

“Huh?” he repeats lurching forward. I gag on the smell. “No way in motherfucking hell am I going to live here!” I say out loud and I take a step back. Dave is there to catch me with his hand and push me back into the game. I step right in front of Jonathan who’s eyes are squinty from being heavily medicated.

He opens his mouth begins to tell me about John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band. How it’s his favorite, where they have played and who are the members in the band. His words become a drone and I am again hit with a new smell of armpits, onions and something I would now describe as dead squirrel.

The needle comes of the record and mechanically starts again. John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band start another chorus of “On the Dark Side.”

It is now very clear why Dave wants out. I want out. Marci wants out. This lumbering, drugged up stinky zombie is to be my new roommate. I am going to share not only an apartment but a bathroom and a bedroom with him.

I begin to shake. Marci and Dave are stepping away from me. She is saying things like “I’m sure you’ll get along famously” and “Paperwork” and “She’ll be right downstairs. By the time she is done Dave is out the door and I can hear the van come to life.

The last view I have is Marci pulling the door close. I then hear the jingle of the bell attached to the door. My mind asks me a question it didn’t ask the first time. “Why is there a bell on the door?”

To be continued………….

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 2 Back in Albany New York


I am sitting in the same van that we took on our day out in Saratoga, except this time I am being driven back to Albany. 

A space suddenly opened in the independent living section of the Parson Child and Family Center group home. I am told that this means I will be living in an apartment directly above the group home and that they will be keeping an eye on me and helping me if I ever need anything. 

I am also going to have a roommate who is part of the program and we will share a bedroom. I will be taught skills on a weekly basis that are designed to help me to move into my own apartment. I will be given a weekly check in the amount of $135.00. This will be used to buy groceries.

I am being driven here by my good friend “Counselor Dave” who volunteered to do it. It seems things didn’t go so well when the cops were unable to find the large amounts of marijuana that they were promised. So now Dave has been given the crappy jobs to do.
Truth be told, I think that he wanted to see me gone and if driving me was the best way to do it, then so be it.

The group home is located on New Scotland Avenue in a very residential neighborhood. They feel that this is the best way to make sure that the kids are safe and can be brought up in the most normal way possible. 

As we pull across the sidewalk into the driveway a blond hair kid on a Schwinn bike, comes flying from the back of the house right into the street. A blond hippie looking girl is standing on the porch. I can hear her yell “Roger” after the kid, he peddles away maniacally. She raises her hand and waves at Dave.

Dave returns her wave and I watch her walk down the front steps of the house. Her arms are folded across her chest, her blond hair is in two ratty braids and her sweater is hanging off her shoulders. “We’re here!” Dave gleefully yells while looking at me in the rear view mirror.

The blond woman comes around to my side of the van and with one pull, yanks the door open. It slides easily on its track. “Hi I’m Marci,” she says extending her hand. On closer inspection I see that she is wearing overalls and Birkenstock sandals. I am immediately reminded of Peppermint Patty from Peanuts. 

She just starts to ramble as she helps me out of the van. “How was the trip?” “Is this your suitcase?” “Are you nervous?” “Is this your first time at this group home?” In between my answers she uses the words “Cool Cool.” She now reminds me more of Janice from the Muppet Show.

Marci grabs my suitcase and begins to drag it across the gravel driveway. She is in non stop talking mode the entire time. Dave follows behind us. I can see in Dave’s eyes that he has dealt with Marci before and that staying silent is best.

My suitcase bumps up the four stairs to the porch. Marci seems winded. I don’t know if it was dragging my suitcase or her constant talking. “Were almost there” she says looking over her shoulder at the house.

The house is two levels and is painted an olive green. One of the house numbers has recently been replaced and doesn’t match the other two numbers in color and style. The porch has a slight squeak and a distinctive sag towards the middle, which causes us to lean to the left at a slight angle. There are two doors framed in dark wood in front of me but at complete opposite ends of the porch. “The Lady or the Tiger,” my brain whispers.


Marci drags my suitcase across the porch to the door on the left. Reaching out she turns the handle and pushes the door inwards. I hear a bell jangle and she drags my suitcase into a foyer. There is another steep staircase in front of us. John Cafferty’s “On the Dark Side,” is being blasted from the top of the stairs.

To be continued……..

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 1 Back in Albany New York


I started dancing when I was five. My sister took tap class at Jack Ferrara School of dance in Rotterdam New   York. I used to stand on a hard plastic and chair press my face against the glass window that separated them from the waiting room.  

I would have to jockey for the best position along with the throngs of waiting parents. I was too young to be left at home, so I went and watched. His school was in a strip mall right next to a laundry mat. My Mom would bring large towels or blankets that didn’t fit in our home machines and do them at the Laundromat while we waited.

One day I followed my sister in the room with her and started class. My Mother ran in, grabbed my hand and dragged me out. It was the teacher who asked me to come back in. My Mother reluctantly, let me go. That was it. 

My parents were more ok with my choice of dance as long as I was tapping. That was a masculine form of dance. Our fights started early when I decided I wanted to take ballet. “What will the neighbors think?” my Mother asked me one day. 

“I thought what are the neighbors thinking right now?” When everyone in the neighborhood is playing football or basketball, I’m playing house with my sister and her friends. 

We would put on an old Eartha Kitt album to use as background music and I would pretend to be mean Mrs. Johnson a made up fictitious neighbor complete with drag and wreck my sister’s tea parties.  I knew what the neighbors were saying because most of the time they said it to my face.

The best names that I would be called on a daily basis were Faggot, Queer and Cupcake. Once when I was eleven I had a neighbor ask me to perform fellatio on him. He drove a Trans AM and lived with his Aunt and Uncle.

I was well aware of what the neighbors had to say.

I think that my parents thought if I took ballet, I would become gay. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t gay I’m pretty clear that dance had nothing to do with it.

In high school I met one a teacher who would influence my life. She was an English Teacher who used to be a dancer. She took me under her wing and molded me. We would take daily classes with her in ballet, jazz and modern. Here is where I was first introduced to Martha Graham, Merce Cunningham and Alvin Ailey. I would be shown video after video of the greatest dancers in the world.

She would take me to Master Classes around the state where I was introduced to so many people in the dance world. I worked so hard and practiced every day. I never told my parents what I was up to and would sneak out of the house to take local ballet classes. Being a boy in the dance world had its benefits and I would take free classes.

At one of these Master Classes I met the owner of a studio in Albany who took an interest in me. I was told to look her up whenever I was in Albany and I could take class with her company.

To be continued……

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Now it begins Part 20


Dave keeps checking us out in his rear view mirror as he drives. I notice that he is driving a little erratic and begins to gain speed as we head back to the house. 

Everyone is quiet but looking around the van. Weare fully communicating with each other but through the use of our eyes. Sharon applies her miming skills as she pulls one finger across her throat looking at me. I return the finger to her as well.

As we turn the corner at the A&W Root Beer stand, Davepicks up even more speed. Heading up the road we can see flashing lights coming from what looks like an army of police cars. Dave glances inthe rear view mirror and forces a smile. Everyone in the van looks around, it is clear that Dave made two phones calls when we stopped. One call went to thehouse and the other call went to the police department. We are currently being driven into an ambush.

A slight panic breaks out in the van and people are unlocking doors and try jumping out while the van is pulling into the yard.Others are slamming the doors and locking them. “Maybe we can keep the police out” Becky yells slapping my hand away from the lock. Dave starts screaming as he continues to drive the van into the flashing lights. The house and grounds are being lit by the headlights and the lights from the top of the cars.

“Just like Albany!” Nick begins to scream, “Just likeAlbany!”

The van pulls up and Diane is standing in the driveway. The look on her face tells me that we are screwed. She is currently flanked by two officers who yank at the handles of the door. Becky is standing with her head smashed against the ceiling, she is holding down the lock. Diane and Becky lock eyes and I hear Diane scream to“Open that door!”

The two cops begin to yank on the handle. Nick begins to freak out pushing everyone aside in the van as he climbs over the seat to getto the door. He starts screaming “Albany, Albany, Albany.” I laugh because I think of Nick yelling “Attica, Attica, Attica!”

The minute the lock gets yanked up the cops reach into the van and yank us out one at a time. More cops arrive and start grabbing kids.Once a cop gets a kid, he marches them into the house; each cop is flanked by asecond officer.

Becky and Sharon are taken into their rooms and I am taken into mine. One cop stands at the door while the second one begins to open drawers and throw clothes around. The first drawer he opened held the rest of the bag of pot I split with the girls. It is in the front and his fingers are literally touching it.

Fortunately for me, he is digging in the back of the drawer and not looking in the front. “Who hides their weed in the front of a drawer?”He is probably thinking. He starts to get angrier and angrier as he searchesthe room. He is still not coming up with anything. Maybe this tip was not agood one. The police were always being called to the group home for one reason or another.

The police continue searching and all us kids are broughtinto the living room. We have three counselors sitting in with us in case anyonesays anything that will help the police. I hear the sound of a pig squealing and snorting. Becky has placed one finger on her nose and pushes it up, her sidekick Sharon is making all the sounds. “Have you had work done?’ I askBecky. Again she flips me the finger.

Diane now walks in the room and see’s Becky flipping me off.  Her face is red and puffy, she is so angry that her head might just blow off. 

Her general announcement to the room is in chopped up phrases and she is muttering. “Police at the house,” “Get to the bottom of this,” “Selling Drugs,” and “You three!” she screams pointing at me, Sharon and Becky. “Get a move on into my office!”

The three of us jump up and march towards her office. Diane almost takes the door off the hinges, while opening it. I have never seen someone so mad and I am a little afraid that we will die or that she will have a heart attack. One of the police officers comes into the room and stands behind us.

What happens next is an honest to god real game of GoodCop/Bad Cop, but in this instance Diane will play Good Cop. The session lasts for several hours and the only thing that they get is that Sharon and Becky bought weed at school and threw it in the garbage. 

No one is buying this story and I am not going to help out anymore than I already have. Diane ends the interrogation with “We will get to the bottom of this if I have to bring the cops back night after night.” We aresent out of the office and into our rooms, it seems that the cops have found nothing and have gone home. Looking out the window I can see Diane and the “BadCop” talking in the driveway. I’m sure they are cooking up another scheme for tomorrow.

I enter my bedroom and look around at the mess of clothes and belongings dumped out on the floor. I see the drawer that held my weed has beenpulled out and the contents dumped. I walk over and sift through the clothes and there in the pile is my bag of weed. 

To be continued……….

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Now it begins Part 19


I am pissed off at Sharon and Becky. They are sitting directly behind me in the van. I am also getting a little pissed off at Nick has now played the Jackson Browne album on repeat for the seventh time. 

“Don’t we have anything else to listen to?” Sharon suddenly blurts out scaring Nick. I quickly turn around and Sharon makes a yucky face at me while Becky giggles. 

“I want to punch her in her fucking face, I want to punch her in her fucking face” I think to myself.

“You owe me money,” I hiss under my breath and face Sharon. “What do I owe you money for?” Sharon asks a little too loudly. I can see Dave look in the rear view mirror at us. “You know!” I hiss again. “No, I don’t know!” Sharon hisses back in a perfect mimic of me. Becky giggles. “God, I hate Becky’s fat fucking face,” I think again. Dave’s eyes are not on the road but looking right at me in the rear view mirror.

In the back seat Danny has his knees pulled up and his cowboy hat low over his face. He is as cool as ever and reminds me of a cat taking a nap.

This freak caravan is headed for the woods. “Oh glorious days,” I say out loud to no one. “What did you say?” Sharon leans forward it her seat.

“Just so we are clear I bought you weed and you owe me money,” I say narrowing my eyes.  “I am also not afraid of you and will not hesitate to kill you in your sleep.” I say all of this an inch from her face, my jaw is pinched shut and my teeth are clamped down. This is said without moving my mouth; I am like a crazed ventriloquist.

“God you need a breath mint,” Sharon says waving away the air in front of her and then turning back to a fat giggling Becky. I believe that my eyeballs are going to shoot out of my head and splatter on the windshield, I am now that mad.

“Anyone else need a smoke break?” I scream out. Dave’s eyes meet mine in the rear view and he eases the van onto the roadside. Jackson Browne is on repeat again.

Sliding across the seat I slide out the van door and grab my cigarettes. At this time I am smoking “More’s” which is a menthol ladies cigarette. They are long and thin and I am too cool as I stand on the side of the road. Sharon and Becky light up a Marlboro light each forcing Nick to cough. He waves the unseen smoke out of his face and pulls out his inhaler.

“Retard,” Becky mutters to Nick. “What if I was retarded, how would you feel?” Nick stammers. “Like I was a genius, clearly spotting you as a retard before you knew you were one.” Becky says purposely blowing smoke in Nick’s face. Stung Nick turns his face to hide his tears.

“Fat Bitch,” I mumble to Becky. Clearly not caring she walks away. Mike walks around the side of the van and slides up next to me. “What does Sharon owe you money for?” he asks trying to act like he’s my best friend. My initial response is to tell him that it was for an abortion but I push away the urge.

“Nothing,” I say kicking the dirt with my shoe and trying to walk away. “Seems like an awful lot of fighting for nothing,” he says feigning concern and placing an arm around my shoulder. I step away and take a drag of my cigarette. “She asked me to get her something, I did and she owes me money.” 

“Uh-huh,” he says nodding his head. I am as vague as I need to be.

Dave nods like he understands and then yells “Ok, everyone breaks over, back in the van.”  Becky knocks Nick out of the way and slides into the passenger seat. “Hey,” says Nick as the door slams in his face. Fat Becky gives Nick the finger. A silent tear rolls down his face.

The van pulls back onto the road and Becky puts Jackson Browne back on repeat. “God, I love this album, don’t you?” Becky says slowly turning to look at me. Sharon begins the kicking of my seat. I can feel the blood in my neck and my eyes start to pulse in rhythm with my heart. I am sure that blood and guts are going to fly everywhere when my head explodes.

Dave checks the rearview, Danny’s sleeping, Nick is quietly sobbing and Fat Bitch Becky is giving me the finger while crane faced Sharon is kicking, kicking, kicking my seat. I can hear a clock ticking somewhere and its getting louder and louder and……

“That’s it!” I scream. “Sharon and Becky bought weed from me and never paid me back!” With this new knowledge Dave slams on the breaks causing everyone to lurch forward in their seats. “What?” Dave screams. “What?” Dave screams again. 

Sharon and Becky sit there with their mouths hanging open and their eyes wide. I am reminded of baby birds. Ugly fat crane faced baby birds.

Dave’s head begins to shake as if this information has put him in overload. Quietly and calmly he turns the van around and begins to head back from where we came. No one is speaking except for Nick. “Where are we going?” “I want to go into the woods,” he cries.

Dave not saying a word begins to drive faster and faster. Sharon coming out of shock begins to move her head back and forth. Danny cool as can be doesn’t move. Twenty minutes later Dave pulls the van over and uses a pay phone. “Don’t anyone move or talk while I am right over there,” he says motioning to the payphone.

The minute the door slams Sharon becomes a ventriloquist herself. “Dead, dead, you are so fucking dead.” She mutters never moving her mouth. “We are so screwed,” says Becky looking at Sharon. Ten minutes later Dave climbs back into the van and heads back in the direction of the house. He is not speaking so I know that we are dead.

Now no one in the van is speaking except Jackson Browne is singing. Two seconds later Becky ejects the cd and I see it fly past my window and bounce down the highway.

To be continued……..
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 18 Now it begins

Danny rolls over calm and cool as can be and doesn’t jump or seem surprised that I am standing inside his room. He smiles and removes his headphones. “What can I do ya fur?” he drawls. “Seriously,” I think to myself “Where the fuck did he come from?”

“I um..I was sent by Sharon..to….uh” I stammer. “You want to buy weed?” he says swinging his legs off the bed. ‘Yes,” I add quickly.

He walks across the room and opens a free standing closet. There is more weed in there than I have ever seen in my life. “What kind you want?” he asks not looking at me. “The kind you smoke,” I add trying to sound cool. 

Danny laughs and turns to look at me. “No, you chuckle head, want do you want it to do?” “Well it’s not for me, it’s for Sharon and Becky,” I say, trying to make myself sound convincing. “Two of my best customers,” he says adding a chuckle. 

Reaching up he pulls down a baggie with weed and tosses it to me. “Something a little wacky is what they like.” 

I catch the bag and look at it. “How much?” I ask. “Forty bucks al do ya,” Danny says shifting his cowboy hat forward over his eyes.

Reaching in my pants I pull out my money and count it out. It is the last $40.00 I have to my name. Danny reaches up quick and snatches it out of my hand. 

“Good doing business with you,” Danny adds. As I turn to walk quickly out the door Danny says “Remember, squealers tend not to live long around here.” I nod my head without ever looking back.

Standing alone in my room I walk over to make sure the door is closed. I then begin to search around for a container to hold some of this pot. I am not going to give Becky and Sharon all of it. I split it in half and put my half in a little box I find. Then I head into the hallway with the rest of it in my front pocket. 

I knock once and Sharon opens the door. Smiling, I reach in my pocket and withdraw the baggie. Sharon’s eyes get wide and search the hallway behind me and then she reaches out, snatches the baggie from me and shoves it down the front of her pants. “You stupid fuck,” she hisses and slams the door in my face.

I am now standing in the hallway in shock. So I knock on the door again. This time Becky answers. “What do you want?” she asks pausing briefly enough to stop chewing her gum. “Is Sharon here?” I ask. ‘No, she’s out Becky says and then she steps back and slams the door in my face.

I am now completely flummoxed. What do I do now? I figure that I will let it go and approach them at another time. I turn and head downstairs to the kitchen. Five minutes later Becky and Sharon coming running down the front stairs, past the kitchen and as they pass the office they yell out “Going for a walk,” and head out the door. 

“What the?” I say out loud running to the window. I can see them. They are run/walking to the street. Becky is still putting on a coat and Sharon is lighting a cigarette. Two minutes later, they are out of sight.

To be continued……

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 17 Now it begins

The door gets taken off the hinges and they find me with my my legs curled up underneath me. 

Diane sees blood on the floor and the name “Ann” written in it and calls the paramedics. I am placed under “psych watch.” 

No one seems to understand the humor of what I have written, no one saw Heather writing it in Diana Taylors blood to frame Ann on "General Hospital." Explaining it gets a lot of people nodding and telling me "that they completely understand" and then making my straps a little tighter.

As they are carrying me out of the house I can hear Nick in the bathroom they just removed me from screaming. “This is turning into the Albany group home!”  “This is turning into the Albany group home!” It is very clear that my days are numbered here in Saratoga.

Diane is at the hospital, she just spoke to her husband Charlie who is a counselor in the Parsons system in Albany about getting me transferred to an  “Independent living” group home. It’s still in the Parsons Child and Family system, so I would be making a horizontal move. He will be putting the paperwork in to make it happen.

I am trying to explain the plot of General Hospital to a nurse who has my hands strapped to the bed. She tells me that she’s more of a Guiding Light fan as she leaves the room.

“Boy, how did this happen?” I ask myself. I have screwed up big time. I have to spend at least 48 hours in the care of the hospital. The cut on my arm wasn’t bad at all. I did most of the damage pulling my hand back. The say I probably will have a little scar. The nurses are actually kind when they talk to me. It is the first time in a long time that I am allowed to be a child and I feel safe.

That night while I am in the hospital Dennis and Mike steal the van and are gone for two hours before anyone notices. 

Several psychological tests and two days later when I get back to the group home, they are still missing. It seems that Mike’s rape story was a plot to share a room with Dennis so they could plan their big escape. It is very clear that I never “raped” anyone. It is Diane who approaches and me and “off the record” apologizes. “Well we still have this weekend to look forward to,” she says.

How this didn’t get me out of the weekend in the country car trip, I’ll never know. Dennis and Mike are still missing so they believe that it will be best to handle this and get us kids out of the house. I have already lived more drama in the short time that I have been here.

Everyone is told what to pack and Mark goes through everyone’s suitcases to make sure no one has brought any drugs with them. We are however allowed to stop at the corner store and buy cigarettes. I am in my "More" Cigarette faze. They are long dark brown and menthol. I am so cool when I smoke them. Pretty much all the kids smoke at the group home.

Dave is in charge of the trip and walks around the house telling everyone what a great time we will be having. Sharon pulls me aside and asks if I have any money. “Why do you need it?” I ask. 

Sharon and Becky want to smoke pot on the trip but they have no money. Sharon’s Mom will be sending her money by next week and she can pay me back then. “Where do you get weed?” I ask. “You need to ask Danny, he has plenty in his room,” Sharon tells me.

While everyone is packing, I knock on Danny’s door. There is no answer, so I knock again. Still no answer so I slightly push the door open and poke my head in.

Danny is lying on the bed with earphones on. I can hear the country music coming through the headphones loud and clear. Danny is tapping his cowboy boot in time to the music. Danny is sort of an enigma, he has his own rules and comes and goes as he pleases. I rarely see him. The inside of his room looks like backstage at a rodeo. “Where the hell did he come from?” I ask myself.

To be continued……

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

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