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Monday, November 26, 2012

The Devil you Know Part 1


Jay Street in Albany during the 80’s, is a street in transition. On the lower half of the block is a park that consists of a broken bench and dead grass.There you go to buy drugs any other thing  you might need. Hookers wander near this strip of grass looking for dates and drunks use the bench and grass to sleep on.  I learned this after I walked through a drug deal after a night out. 

After I step around a drunk and I meet two lovely hookers looking for a date. Hookers don't care that you tell them you're gay, it doesn't even slow them down. Strange enough, it’s the middle of Jay street that you need to really look out for. Imagine walking on a paint strip sample, except that the shades get scarier in one direction.

Tommy and Roy bought a beautiful three story pre-war building on the corner of Jay and Dove Street that is in need of serious repair. They have been doing a lot of the work themselves because Tommy is a contractor and Roy is a lawyer with deep pockets. Bill M. and I live in the basement of their building under the front steps.


It really is a cool little apartment. You enter from the street, unlock that door and step into a little mud room area, then you open a second door that leads into our apartment.

Right now on the other side of this door, I am crawling around on my hands and knees trying to get away from Bill M. and  trying to get out.

Bill M. grabs me as I reached for the door, then throws me through the air. I crawl out of his way but currently he is right behind me. Bill M. jumpson me and just like in the cartoons, we are rolling back and forth on the carpet. I use all the strength I have to shove Bill M. off of me and begin crawling, rolling and throwing anything that my hands can find at Bill M. This doesn't slow him down, just makes him madder.

Bill M. is screaming nonsensical sentences and talking about the walls listening to him all the time and that he’s sick of it. He is coming at me and I’m screaming for help. Every time I yell he tells me that the landlords know what’s going on and they don't care, they have been videotaping it for days. 

I have to thank god for Horror Movies because they have taught me the survival skills I now have. Even though several skills are useless like screaming and running in heels. I quickly adopt the language I see when you are dealing with a lunatic on the screen. I began to talk in a soothing voice, saying things like “I understand, it’s a terrible thing that they are doing.” 

Bill M. stops and cocks his head while I’m talking. I think of Frankenstein picking flowers with the little girl, my window is not open long and I need to wrap it up and get help.

While he ponders what I said, I come to my feet and bolt for the front door as I do I see Tommy coming home and walking towards the front steps of the building. I reach the door and start screaming, Bill M. springs back into life and lunges for me. I grab the knob with all my might and Bill M. is trying to pull me fingers off the knob. I can see Tommy paused at the bottom of the stairs talking to a neighbor and I scream with all my might. Tommy’s head turns in my direction and I unlock the front door. Bill M. and I fall into the mud room.

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, November 19, 2012

A New Chapter Starts Part 16


I look at the dirty dishes in the sink; they are stacked one on top of the other as they climb towards the ceiling. Food has been left out on the counter to rot and there is the strong smell of decay. 

I open the fridge it looks as if he hasn’t touched any of his orange juice in days. I begin to wonder if he has gone off his medication again. The screaming coming from Bill M.’s bedroom is intense. It’s time to check on him to make sure that he is ok.

I knock on the door and he continues to scream. I raise my fist and begin to pound, he immediately becomes silent. “Bill, are you ok?” I ask. It takes a few moments but he responds with “Just a minute, I’m busy.” “Can you come out and see me?” I ask through the closed door “I want to make sure that everything is alright.” A few more moments go by and then I hear him turn the lock and open the door. Bill M. steps out of his room and take a step towards me. The look on his face immediately worries me.

“Hi, I was just checking I haven’t seen you in awhile.” Bill M. keeps his gaze steady on me. It is clear that he hasn’t taken a shower in days, his smell is overpowering. Bill M. is wearing matching red pajamas that are covered with green Christmas trees. He is unshaven and has several days of beard growth on his face; his eyes are pinched and bloodshot.

“You haven’t seen me in awhile?” he asks walking towards me, every step he takes forward is a step I take back. It takes me seconds to realize that Bill M. is clearly off his medication and delusional. “You haven’t seen me in awhile?” he asks again his voice rising. I step back and put the kitchen table between us.

“Really? Really? You haven’t seen me in awhile?” Every step around the table Bill M. takes, I counter, I will not let him get that close to me.

“How come you’ve been listening to me?” he screams. “Do you know what it’s like to have you and everyone hovering over me and listening in to everything I say?” “Do you know how hard it is to do all of this?” he says waving his hands around the kitchen. He slowly starts to walk around the table, step for step I keep away from him. 

It is scene out of every horror movie, where you realize that you are talking to someone who is not there. His talking becomes faster and I can’t follow his thought pattern. “This!” he screams pointing to the sink.”This!”

“Bill are you ok?” I ask trying to change whatever subject we are on at this moment. “Am I ok?” he screams, “Am I ok?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” he screams as spittle flies from his lips. “Bill are you on your medication?” I ask. “I don’t need medicine!” he screams. “You are all the same!” he says as his hands rise up and grab his face, he then begins to pull handfuls of hair in opposite directions. Bill M. is flipping out and I am going through the index box of my brain trying to figure out what to do.

“If I take the pills then they can hear what I am thinking and I don’t want them to do that.” Each word is slow and punctuated and he starts to get even more distressed. “Bill,” is there someone I can call for you?” “Call for me?” “Call for me?” his eyes roll towards the ceiling “Maybe they need to call someone for you!” he screams and points at the ceiling. “Holy fuck, I’m screwed.” I think. My brain tells me to remain calm, keep him talking and head to the front door. I am going to ring Tommy and Roy’s bell, hopefully they are upstairs.

I take a step to my right and Bill counters my steps. ‘Stop!” he screams “Stop, listening in on me!” Suddenly Bill lunges and I jump out of the way. With one arm he sweeps everything from the kitchen table to the floor. I fake a step to my left and make a run for the door. Bill pushes the table out of the way and is right behind me, I bolt towards the door. “All of you!” he screams “All of you!”

Bill M. is right on my heels as I make it to the front door. I get one hand on the knob and the next thing I know I am flying through the air.

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, November 12, 2012

A New Chapter Starts Part 15


Soon, I start sneaking around the apartment reading every medicine bottle I can find. I  follow the directions on the label and start grinding up his medication to put it in his orange juice. In the fridge he keeps a large pitcher of it and every day he would finish it and replace it. I start to notice an immediate change in his behavior; Bill M. no longer speaks to invisible people and seems to be in the same room with me at the same time.

David and I were great; he is still working downtown  at Jacks Steak House. He would come home late every night with his shirt unbuttoned, black bow tie still around his neck and a cigarette behind his ear. Imagine George Michael coming home to you every night, sweaty, needing a cigarette and bringing food.

I became possessive and watched my friends with caution.

David also has a lot of friends that make me nervous and jealous. One of them, Ralph, has steely blue eyes and looks like a Norwegian Sailor. Not just any Norwegian Sailor but one that Tom of Finland would create. He lingers all over the house and only speaks when spoken to. 

I came home one day and they were both fully clothed and sitting on the bed. I am sure that I am not crazy and that I'm not imagining anything but what is really happening?

David also has a friend named Joe, who I thought was in his 90s. It turns out that Joe was in his 60s but looked 90 up until his death. 

Joe would come over early to David’s house and for some reason he had his own set of keys.  One morning, David tells me Joe’s story. Joe, it turns out was a leading fighter in the Gay Rights Movement. He gave up everything and in the late 1950s and suffered through much. He suddenly had a life of people screaming horrible things at him, burning things on his lawn and blowing up his house just because he was gay. I understood, but why did Joe drive around town shirtless, car top down, while wearing ripped shorts that would peek out a testicle every now and then? It was hard for me to let him be himself because we were all supposed to be quiet and we were taught not to flaunt our lives. 

If you were really lucky Joe would be dressed in an electric blue thong and drop his shorts. Joe would follow this up with a noise that sounded like he was slurping on sticky candy, it made me dizzy and nauseous.

I was bouncing between David’s house and my apartment with Bill M. I rarely saw Bill M. and he seemed to be out of the house every time I would come over. The apartment was usually filthy and I would clean as quickly as possible. Often I would be there to grab a quick change and head right back out the door.

Today Bill M. was home in his room. He was screaming at someone I assumed was on the phone. I slid into my room, grabbed clothes and slid back out into the kitchen. Bill M. was in the middle of his argument when I noticed the phone in the cradle on the kitchen table.

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, November 5, 2012

A New Chapter Starts Part 14


I walk into the kitchen one morning and I find Bill M. cooking eggs, making toast and talking to someone that doesn't exist. He is excitedly explaining the news business and how to get things done. 

I pause in the doorway and Bill M. notices me out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turns, faces me and with spatula in one hand he lifts both shoulders in a shrug that clearly say that I interrupted his talking to his guest. He pauses for a moment, listens to the air and “poof” it’s just the two of us in the kitchen again.

“Who are you talking to?” I ask. Bill M. makes a face and says “Just you.” There are two place settings on the kitchen table and Bill M. begins to spoon eggs on to both plates. “Coffee?” he asks me walking over to a fresh brewed pot. I just stare at him, Bill M. and I never have breakfast together, never discussed it and it wouldn’t be in my top 100 things to do before I die. Truthfully Bill M. scares me. It is clear that something he is doing is not working. One of his medicines is not playing nice.

I slowly slide into one of the chairs at the table. Bill M. pours juice and adds a piece of toast to my plate. Sitting down across from me, Bill M. brushes the crumbs off his hands, unfolds his napkin and tucks it under his chin. “Did you have a good night last night?” he asks crunching into a piece of toast.

“Yeah,” I say dragging the word out. He is creeping me out big time right now. He is staring into my eyes and chewing his piece of toast until I am sure there is nothing left of that toast in his mouth. Bill M. looks like the male version of Frida Kahlo to me.

I reach out and grab my coffee. “How was your night?” I ask. “Did you know that the Borgia’s also poisoned members of their own family?” Bill M. says without looking away from my eyes. He crunches another piece of toast. “Fascinating,” I respond. “Bill?” I say, cutting to the chase, “Are you ok on your meds?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, you seem to be under a great deal of pressure.” I say, not breaking his gaze.

“Pressure?” he begins to repeat the word louder and louder and each time he says it he begins to stand up. He has now said the word about seven times and spittle flies from his lip.

 “You don’t know the pressure!” he screams at me. We have gone from 0-100 in five seconds.

“Bill?” I say reaching out for his arm. The minute I touch his arm, he returns to earth but seems to be confused by what has happened. Slowly he sits back down, picks up his toast and begins crunching again.

“Bill, are you taking your medicine?” I ask

“No, I don’t need it, I’m feeling better.” he responds.

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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