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Monday, October 14, 2013

A New Start at the House of George Part 1


When the waters finally part and it’s over, I realize that I have had enough. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I have lost what little was left from the first flood and now I have nothing. Nothing but the clothes on my back and even those are wet.

I am angry and I blame Kim for me losing all my things. I blame Kim for finding this stupid ‘fucking apartment and I blame Kim for caring about me and helping me. I blame everyone except me for what my life has become. I blame Cindy just for being there and I blame the landlord for his lack of proper response. “Blame, Blame, Blame!” 

I blame everyone for everything. I take no responsibility for this current situation that I have found myself in and I feel that I am going nowhere and I even blame Kim for that. Even though my actions have nothing to do with her I blame her for everything. I am angry, frustrated and I have nothing left. I need a change. I need to “run.” Life is easier if I just “run.”

The windows in the apartment no longer exist; I have smashed them all to smithereens with the broom. I let the water rush in to the kitchen at a faster speed; I mean, “Why put off what was about to happen?” The build up of the water and the flooding meant so much more than even I would understand until years later.

Kim, Cindy and I decide to part ways while we are cleaning up from this current flood. Well actually, Cindy wanted me out, Kim wanted me out and I want out. It’s the first time that we all agree on something.

Kim and I lived in our own reality and it was one that was on the verge of getting really ugly. Kim and I fought all the time and recently it had gotten physical. Cindy and I really couldn’t stand looking at each other and she had just moved in, but in truth, she was the one paying the bills.

The final flooding had pushed me over the edge and I needed out of the frying pan. So I ran to the gas station and used the phone. I forgot how bad things had gotten between David and me over Joe. I contact Joe and ask if I can stay on his basement floor. Joe tells me “I can have the room in the basement for however long I need it.” I tell him “it will be a short stay.” I walk to Joe’s house with nothing but the clothes on my back that is still dripping with water.
Joe true to fashion answers the door in his blue electric G-string. It is hard to act blasé when a ninety-year-old man in an electric blue G-string answers the door and walks outside onto the landing to greet you. 

“How are you?” Joe screams and throws his arms around my neck. “MMMMMMM, you sure look yummy!” Joe says as he pats my ass. Joe then takes my hand and swings me back to get a better look at me. I feel like a debutante at Joe’s private ball. The neighbors across the street look out at us from behind closed curtains.

At 90 Joe wears a hearing aid in each ear. He needs to talk loud so he can hear himself. “Full House tonight but you are more than welcome!” says Joe in his G-string as he swings me into the house. I am embarrassed as to what the neighbors think, not of Joe but of me.

Joe’s house is filled to capacity with the normal circus that I always expect to find. Runaways who have nowhere else to go, recovering drug addicts who have just left rehab and various youth on the fringe of society lay around in the living room.

Joe doesn’t live alone but has a roommate named Gary.  Gary has his own room on the main floor. Gary once told me that he has had to lock his bedroom door all the time; things have gone missing one too many times for his liking.

As I head into the kitchen I see my old roommate Adam sitting there with a big smile on his face.

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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