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.
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.
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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