a few days ago, i threw my back out for the very first time. and i wasnt even trying to blow myself. it involved an incredibly heroic feat with a patio table. but aside from the miserable and constant pain, and the pathetic helplessness, i was left to the mercy of my parents couch. where i was force fed an endless supply of mind-rotting television (two full episodes of american idol), and a small cattle farm’s worth of red meat.
today, i finally felt capable of moving about without a walker. though not really feeling up to it, mostly due to an aching stomach full of motrin and beef, i left the house and headed downtown.. in my hometown, where i am more a stranger than anywhere else i know. and just as i do in any town where i dont know anyone, i walk into the loudest, most crowded gay bar i can find.
it was karaoke night, and i was immediately assaulted with an off-key lionel ritchie ballad, absent of the slightest taste of irony. i got a beer and charged for the smoking patio. before i could sit down, i was joined by marc. a tall, lanky chap in his late 30’s. it wasnt so much his tapered, acid-washed jeans and brown leather jacket that stood out, but perhaps it was the entire right side of his face, swollen and bruised, nearly consuming his dilated pupil. i immediately smelled creep on his breath.
“are you gay?”, he asks, in that ever so familiar tweaker rasp.
“no, i come here for the music.”
“hey man, that’s awesome, i love lionel ritchie! i don’t really get the whole gay thing. i don’t fuck guys.. i mean, i will if i have to, you know what i mean? but i love gay guys, you know why? because they listen to me, man.”
this is where i’m inhaling my cigarette as hard and fast as i possibly can.
“did you see what happened to my face?”
“did somebody hit you?”
“somebody!?! more like 30 guys, dude. i was down at paradise beach today, and i see this girl, right? and she’s in her bikini and throwing back shots of jack.. so i go up to her, you know? and i’m just like rapping at her, it’s not like i was even gonna fuck her or anything. how the fuck was i suppose to know she was 14? so all the sudden, i’m surrounded by all these dudes who are all talking shit.. but what they don’t know is that i was in the marines for five fuckin years. so i take my shirt off and i’m like, “you wanna have this out? i’ll kill every single one of you motherfuckers.” cause thats what you got a do, you know? and thats what i did. and i won, too. god, i must sound like such a redneck right now. but you know sometimes that’s just what you gotta do, and you just get so angry.. (this is where marc starts foaming at the mouth) and you.. you just wanna rip out their fucking livers and grind them into the sand with all the blood and bile and shit..”
marc takes a pull off his beer. “i can’t believe i paid 4 dollars for this. thats why i keep a bottle in my scooter.”
i made my break. “hey man, you have a good night. be safe.”
“oh yeah, you too, hey, thanks for listening man. you’re fucking awesome. “
i walked straight out the front door and stood in the gutter pretending to text someone for about 5 minutes. then i went home. my first nite out in nearly two weeks lasted about 30 minutes, and i’ve never hated sacramento more. mostly because i’ve realized that i am the freak. and that marc is gonna find wherever i go. and i’ll probably listen to him.
rescue me, somebody.
ΛPГlCOT ГΛY
