Finally Home
2005-03-28 3:36 p.m.
It�s gonna be hard to put it all on one place, but I�ll try. This�ll probably be a pretty long post� Fuck it, maybe I�ll make it a 2-parter.Every time I come home it takes a serious mental adjustment to actually �get here�. The FEELING of home takes a minute. I�m always awestruck with all the stories that float into my head as I drive in from the airport. Every neighborhood I pass through has a couple hundred stories melding together into some incredible reminiscent orgy.
By the time I got to G�s, I was mentally exhausted. I didn�t have too much to say yet. My head was still whirling. And G knows I go through this every time. He walks through with me knowing me like only my brother could. (G is the cat I�m going to LA with)
�V is in some local pool tournament at [local bar]. You want to head over there?�
�Definitely. I need a shower, but I guess that can wait�
So we broke out, had a few drinks with V and talked tattoo. V is the best tattoo artist I�ve ever met. Absolutely committed to what he does, and incredibly good at it. He lived with me for about a year in New York after his shop closed out here. After that year, he went back and opened another shop which seems to be pretty damned successful thus far. Already profitable in 2 years. A serious feat in the business world.
So the 6 of us had a few beers ($3 coronas all the time, not just happy hour � matter of fact, I just found out last night that happy hour is illegal out here. Crazy shit) and caught up on recent shit. Closing time hit and me and G headed back to the apartment.
�I have a couple shrooms and some resin left, you interested?�
�Hell yeah. I�m grabbin a beer. You want one?�
�Yeah � eat this first�
I remember when I couldn�t bare the taste of shrooms. They�re so fucking nasty, and always taste like the cow shit they were grown in. They still taste nasty, but it�s a faint nastiness now. Now more similar to quick whiff of an unpleasant odor than a mouthful of shit.
They kicked in quick and we began playing Burnout 3, smoking bowls of resin in between races. Burnout 3 is SO FUCKING HARD TO PLAY when you start tweaking. So fast and colorful. I couldn�t keep up.
�I got first season of Family Guy�
�Throw down�
Halfway through the first episode I was completely tweaked. When eating shrooms or smoking herb I tend to get really introspective. It�s something I can generally manage fine on a regular day, but days are far from regular for the moment.
And shit got thick� man, I may as well have been swimming in mud. I couldn�t take family guy anymore. I mean I was laughing to the point of tears, but some of those tears were based on the fear of what I was going through.
The thought process was getting harsh�
I�m officially homeless now. I left my girl. I left some great people. I offended a few on my last couple days. I�m sleeping on my boy�s couch. I don�t know if we�ll find an apartment when we get to LA. I don�t know if G will find a job. I don�t know if we�ll be able to afford it all�
How do people look at me? I never actually gave a shit til recently. I�m still not sure if I do, but I just want to know anyways. A lot of people tell me that I inspire them, but here I am, a drunken bum � sleeping on a couch, homeless and tweaked out. Broke for all intents and purposes. About to step into the big leagues of my industry. Am I ready for that? Left an incredible woman behind. Am I ready to be solo? Who do I still know here who might actually give enough of a damn to hang out? Who haven�t I offended? How do these people see me? How do my parents see me? Do I look as lost as I feel?
Society, my friends, my family, everyone seems to feel the right path and my path are completely different. Nobody�s told me to stop, but then they go off and get married early with parenthood a close second (or vice versa). They get into jobs regardless of having talents they could live off of on their own. Their paths seem to stop short, they stop making stories, and start helping their children with theirs, and they are justified. What about me? Who do I look up to besides the people I�m closest to and some kooky author who ate his own bullet recently?
It was a whirlwind. Those three paragraphs all occurred to me within seconds. And in the next 15 minutes they got drastically worse. Should I quit it all? Should I call my ex, apologize and tell her I�m coming home? Should we have kids and get married? Should I go get a job? Have I outstretched my means? Do I have a chance to get back to reality before it all gets fucked up?
�Dude, my heads all twisted. I shouldn�t be this fucked up right now/�
�Yeah man, I�m pretty fucking tweaked too�
�I can�t watch this shit anymore. Too animated. I�m fuckin devastated.�
�Alright, I�ll throw in Hero�
My tweak was riding itself out. My cheeks covered in tears of laughter and pain all at once. So much water left my eyes that at times, when my head was back on the back of the couch everything looked as if I were underwater.
I had to speak up. I don�t want to scare G with my own fears. I�m sure it�s going to be much harder for him to leave than it is for me. Shit, I�m already gone and been gone for years, he�s still in his parent�s house basement apartment. But I gotta talk and he knows me better than anyone.
Mind you, some of this is direct quote, some of this is paraphrasing, and some of this is my remembrance and understanding of the conversation. I was tripping, stoned and drunk at the time. Also, although the conversation was very good, this is being written out far more eloquently.�
�Man I was so fuckin tweaked�
�Yeah me too man. Been thinking a lot�
�So� I gotta get some shit out. You straight to talk?�
�Fo Sho.�
�Alright. So I�m lost. Always lost. Like anyone. We�re all lost. We walk aimlessly and follow each other around in circles as if the guy in front of us actually had some idea of where he was going.�
�Right�
�And I feel like there�s so many �shoulds� that I should be partaking in, that I�m not. And I know you understand me as you�re still unmarried without kids.�
�Right�
�Everywhere I look, people stop and look around and start following the same path over and over again. It gets scary. I mean we�re all living, and nobody�s actually right because nobody has any clue what the fuck we�re doing here. We�re so fucking free that it scares us to death and eventually we give up.�
[G�s nodding]
�So I do it my own way and everyone respects me for it. Shouldn�t I be condemned? Why do I get so much respect? Why don�t these people just call me the belligerent drunk that I am?�
�Because we do it well�
�Right. I mean this isn�t arrogance, but everyone I talk to always seems like such a fucking amateur. Well not everyone, but most. And I mean amateur at everything. Yeah, you and I have outsmoked and outdrank most of the fucking planet. We�ve partied harder than most. But I mean with other shit too. Just life in general. At the end of the day it seems like a bunch of amateurs.�
�Well we�ve been told all our lives that we�re old souls. There�s gotta be something to that. We go through all of this shit as if we�ve been doing it for centuries. Everything comes in stride and we call them how we see them. Everyone else is till trying to figure it all out.�
�Exactly, but I don�t feel we�re ahead of the game by any means. I mean, we�re just living. I think it seems like all these people just don�t seem to connect the dots. To believe in what their hearts tell them and follow through. I�m not sure I see people with young souls, but rather people unwilling to listen to their own inner voice.�
�Right. And we live well. Unapologetically. We meet people, we chill with them. We find out what they�re about and we move forward through life happily. The money doesn�t matter. The time and place don�t matter. Just living�
�And there is no right and wrong�
�Right�
�So a married man with a quarter million dollars, a 401k plan, a wife, 2 kids and a dog is doing just as well as anyone else.
�Right�
�And we end up with more stories�
�Exactly, and that�s the money in our lives. Our stories and the souls we touch. We procreate and tell stories. We don�t have to have millions of dollars. And don�t have to be in the history books. We change the world with every conversation and every experience.�
And that�s it. We�re in the trenches of human history. Mingling with the masses.
�I think there�s a common thread. I love that tat you just got from V (he got a tattoo of a tree stump on his ankle, signifying his roots in Chicago), and right now, after all this I love you like I always have. Like a brother. You always bring me home. Home to my city, where most people actually make some sense. The old souls among us just don�t seem as amateur. I found that a lot in New York. A bunch of lost people making lost decisions based on what they felt they were supposed to do without asking themselves what they HAD to do to be.
And I love that tattoo for the same reason I love my city. The people who I look up to here. They make me. But I think it goes deeper. That�s what I�m looking for. That�s what I want to define from all these stories.�
�What�s that?�
�The common thread. I know you feel it here, as you�ve always been here. But when I made my journey to New York, I was looking for the extent of it. It took me a while, but now I think I�m beginning to see it. There�s a thread that holds us all together. There�s something that makes us all one. It�s what religions try to define and it�s what our fear of our own freedom hides from us.�
The conversation continued to stories throughout out lives that proved or at least hinted of some of the points made above. G made a lot of points as well and some of them are within my quotes, just as they were reiterated through understanding. By the end of it all, I was confident again. My path is the right path. For me. Nobody has any means of making my path right or wrong. They�re on their own path and just as well, I�ve no means of telling them different � except maybe to help them listen to their heart more than to their media.
I was solid. There was no mistaking my path. Everything I�ve done to this point is justified in my own existence. G passed out, I finished my beer and watched the end of Hero. Moved to the floor and was out cold.
Next day, I worked, then met up with A who absolutely MADE my night and the night thereafter. My first New York friend to come visit me. Her presence made me as comfortable as always. We had a great dinner, went to hang with G and J and his girl. Got ripped, played some Ghost Recon and I dropped A off a lil later than we�d expected.
Next day, tapas and relationship conversation. I really wanted to convince A to stay the weekend. She seemed to need it and I really need to not spend too much alone right now. Not that I�m trying to use her. Just a mutual need. Alone is twisted right now. And A needed Chicago and a tour guide, both of which I was readily offering. Alas, she had to go. Responsibilities are a motha fucker. I missed her even 5 minutes after she was gone, and continue to miss her to this very moment.
I took the airport train back to the lot, had the dramatic walk in the rain back to the car, wondering if I should have twisted the screws a little hard to keep A around. I really wanted to hang with her for a couple more days, or at least a few more hours.
On the drive back to the South Side, I waited till about 15 minutes after her plane was supposed to have taken off and left a message.
It took the whole drive to get it right. I was rambling on and felt it was off. Hit 3 and start again. I�m such a fucking dork.
I wanted to be eloquent but undramatic. She�s had too much drama and eloquence lately and it�s been fucking her up. She doesn�t need more game from me. So in the end, I made it simple. Partially because I felt I�d been repeating myself, even though she was only going to hear it once.
And with that, I figured the night was done�
Oh, but no� No no no no� The night I thought was long over was merely just starting�