Jun 23, 2007

ECPP, motherf


NOTE: An error-riddled version of this was on my computer when I woke up. I have removed any and all mentions of dragons and a Wal-Mart parking lot and I have edited this post to have it make sense, uh, grammatically. Sort of, that is. Jesus.

The bus driver tapped me on the shoulder and told me it was time for me to get off of the bus. I have no idea how he knew where I lived, but he was right. A few blocks away, my apartment awaited my arrival like a dog scratching at the door hearing my footsteps. The way I remember, my bed swelled with anticipation.

I don't remember much. I know there was dancing. I KNOW AT LEAST THAT MUCH. I had my arm around a young black man and then there was a cab. I refused to sleep on a couch. I walked home. Wise. I slept on a bench. Did I sleep on a bench? No. No, I didn't.

Wait, it wasn't in that order, was it? It couldn't have been. Recognizable order, when attained, is a damn fine--if not utterly beautiful-- thing. I have to remember it correctly, then. There was a flask in my hand on the bus. I know that. Who was in the cab? Did I pay for it? No, no. I was too inebriated for that much, at least. There were three foreign kids-- drunk; fifteen. Maybe seventeen. They were hanging on my every word. It was five-twelve in Greenpoint, or how long had I walked at that point? Had I crossed a bridge? The light was not yet peaking; the moment you realize everything is predetermined and we all die alone had yet to set in with it's insightful correctness.

I made a phone call. My sister said I rambled about being dead. She was scared. I know I saw people awake. That makes two of us now, people. I'm awake.

When I did wake up, I was clutching something. Right, an empty flask; used to be scotch. That was on the bus. I called the driver "brother." I meant it to be a wonderful compliment. He laughed directly at me like I was the kid who brought a teddy bear to show and tell in fifth grade. I talked someone into giving me a Jaeger Bomb. He paid for it. I had never seen him in my life and all he wanted to do was buy me a drink. I am affable and lovable in some capacities-- in some cities.

I told this bitch in the street, when the seventeen year-old kids told me I needed her, that she better look out for snakes. Those motherfuckers are FIERCE. If you aren't scared of snakes, you're living in a DREAM world. Son, I got snakes inside my MOUTH right now.

So, the order. I went to a bar, then a baseball game, then I was at a bar. There were people EVERYWHERE. Someone said I was very entertaining. I remember being overwhelmed by something. Then shots. Then cabs. Then young boys, the only people impressed with my shtick. Then I was asleep, and then the bus driver said, quite literally, "Ey! Home is here."

Maybe he didn't say that exactly. But he was made of snakes. Or, at the very least, he was my brother. His voice was like those hoses you whip around and they make loud noises dependent upon how hard you spin them. What were they called? I had one when I was little. I snuck whiskey and scotch into the baseballs. I know at least as much as THAT.

Now, at nine-thirty in the morning, we're all waking up. The entire world is rising to it's grave, friends.

The plan. Here's what else happened. The fifteen/seventeen year-olds said something about how cool I was, and they bought me a Poland Spring water. I felt like the G train was functional. I was wrong about that, and all, but who's to say what functionality really is? All I know is that I was asleep on a bench, and I may not have been, really.

If I can't say anything, I think I had a great time. Someone said I looked like I was having fun. It was a woman on the train. She and I were happy right then. There was a dude that said to be quiet and I could've killed him. I could've derailed the train with my thoughts. I could've brought the spinning Earth to a grind and halt.

But, before all that, everyone was smiling. That was nice.

5 comments:

Keith said...

I feel drunk having just read that.

Wanda (aka Metschick) said...

That's how I felt at 6 am. I shouldn't have started drinking once I got to Jersey.

becky said...

I...really wish I saw this. Like a lot.

Business or Leisure? said...

Me too, Becky. Me too.

diddly said...

I'm just glad I wasn't hungover anymore when I read that.