Over and Over and Over Again

I wrote this a few weeks ago on a car trip to and from Tennessee and a family reunion. It was eleven pages in my notebook and it took awhile for me to ball up and type it all out into my computer. Don't read it if offensive language is scary to your eyes. Or whatever, read it, I don't give a shit.

To Neal, Who Is In Prison

Neal, I’m feeling pretty strange so, this may be too blunt and you’re not around to tell me that. But I think that’s alright this time. Maybe that’s just all my strange feelings. Feelings is such a word, isn’t it? Isn’t it Neal? I’ve got my strange feelings so I can write down strange words. It’s like I’ve got brass balls clapped on right now and I need to run this shit out and take some hits before I start checking everything over. I’ve got to fuck up, I think, so I can finally learn how it all goes down. Of course, I mean, it’s really impossible to know all of that and everything Neal. But, I’m on such a high horse tonight that I think I just might be able to ride it someplace. It’s better than kicking it in the stables, picking apart horseshit for something to talk about and then complaining about the smell. Seriously Neal, do you get all this man?
I went down to Tina’s tonight, that POS bar and grill down close to where your dad used to live. Man, I miss your dad, where did he go anyways? He was all over high school. It’s been awhile. Anyways so I go to Tina’s and the lady there, behind the bar, she’s new and she’s being a real bitch, you know, about my fake I.D. I keep telling her that it’s legit and it’s like she won’t shut the fuck up about how it looks kinda strange and I don’t look twenty two and what year were you born quiz-type bullshit. You know man, just being about as big of a bitch as she can be. Actually she was being just about what I would call a c*** but you know I don’t talk that kinda shit out of respect for my sister. But man I know you get the basic idea here, we’ve talked about it all before. I can’t remember when but I think it was at John’s house. John Hope not John “I’mafuckingassholeprickshit” Davies. So yeah, this bitch is all up in my case and I’m trying to talk her down, like I’m a regular but my lies are coming up a little flat. Because I really just wanna get smashed and I mean my money’s good and what the fuck is her problem. Right? This is what I’m thinking anyway and it’s throwing me of my game. And I’m just getting kind of desperate pissed when Mellissa walks in with this dude. This dude, name is Rodney, first I thought he was a douche because he was rocking that whole original punk thing with the jacket and the hawk and the nose ring. Plus, this fucker had patches. I mean, he was up to his ass in DIY patches and shit, pins too. So Mellissa and this dude Rodney come up and of course I’m like “hey what’s up.” They say hey back and she introduces me to Rodney. I don’t say any of the shit I’m thinking about him because I’m not a total asshole. I have some tact, and also I’m not nearly that drunk yet. I had a bit of whiskey left but not nearly enough for this day and I was really counting on Cheap Thursday shots at Tina’s. So I tell Mellissa to tell this fucking uppity bitch behind the counter that I’m a regular so I can just get something to drink already. So Mellissa works her ways and all (what a girl man, she’s great, not to pull up any shit or anything I’m just saying) and her I.D. was, I guess, more legit than mine or something. But the counter bitch finally relented and we started taking some shots. It was all pretty chill, a good time. WE were all just kinda shooting the shit, but comfortable shit. You know? Something I can comfortably wallow in without drowning or felling like I just stepped in something. We were all getting kind of tipsy and I was headed straight for dead drunk. Eventually, Mellissa goes to the bathroom. Here I wanted to say something about how chicks go piss a lot. But man that’s a generalization and I’m trying not to be so sexist and shit lately, nobody digs that. While she was gone Rodney and I, we got to talking and it turns out he’s like twenty five and out of college already, for awhile. I though that was pretty crazy because I pegged him at twenty one at best. So, I’m pretty drunk and I ask him why he’s still doing the punk thing then. I mean it was a blunt question but not without merit, I thought. I told him I just didn’t understand how you could really get along with all that ideology and get by like in society and shit. It came to me, in the middle of his answer, that I didn’t know why I didn’t just assume he was in a band or something. I mean, every motherfucker who has one word to say or one tit to grab in this tri-county area has got a band. It made a lot of goddamn sense. Actually though, he works at a tattoo place downtown and he also had a lot of good ideological and political points. I mean, he was riffing some shit about Bush that I had never heard. But not any sort of crazy shit, he had a lot of facts with it, a lot of truth. He also had some good points on the whole punk scene and I could tell he really meant it. It was really a bad call on my part but I didn’t feel bad about it. The way I see it is that you can’t just stop judging people. Because there are a lot of dicks and douches that just aren’t worth anybody’s time frankly. So, for them and for me, I’m a dick and I judge people. I fully realize the dickery in all this and take full responsibility for it. But, hear me out here Neal. If I’m a dick and judge someone and then they aren’t what I thought they were, it’s a pleasant surprise. If not, then fuck them and I didn’t waste my time. I certainly didn’t say anything out loud about it. The key is secrecy here and no one gets hurt. I’m not gonna start felling guilty about it and no one can make me. And I know the counter argument here is to say that I’m losing out on meeting great new people. Am I right? But really, I don’t care. I know enough people and I have enough friends. It may not work for everybody but I think I have a closed case on this one. Besides, friendship might just be a fate thing anyways. I’m looking into it. Anyway, after all that talk we get started talking about school and shit. What else? We traded majors, which is something I’m too conversationally familiar with. His was Anthropology, which of course he recommended, but I felt like he wasn’t laying it up too much, just speaking. So, I didn’t take it to heart or anything but I listened. After that though we got around to my major, of course. I told him about my writing and my music but I felt so stupid doing it. He actually asked what (not if) I had published, which no one has ever done before. I stammered that answer out and ended up feeling like an even bigger tool. But really what’s the right age to get published at? I think there’s a lot to consider here and I have to admit that I don’t know any of the answers. I wish I had them but yeah that comes with experience. If you hit it too early you’ve got no chops. But you can just keep building chops all your life and come up with jack shit. And that’s kinda terrifying. I don’t want to be a speech writer and I don’t want to feel like I’m going to waste. I don’t want to feel like I have to be famous. I don’t want to but I do. I know that everyone feels it though so I don’t feel bad, most of the time. Writing is a great thin g to do and I know it’s for me but it can be such an exercise in fear and discouragement. I’m always so afraid of not writing or not writing good anymore. Because there’s always those dry spells. I get so discouraged too, when it’s not turning out like it should be or like it needs to be. I don’t mean to complain, just to expand.
At this point in tje conversation, Rodney and I hit a lull. This is where we both suddenly realize that Mellissa’s been gone a damn long time. So, we go looking for her. At first it’s like a joke thing. You know, we’re both pretty lit up, running down the hallway to the bathroom and banging on the walls. Rodney peaked into the bathroom real slow and whispered her name. At this point I was on the ground, rolling around because I though this was the funniest thing I ‘d seen in maybe weeks. Rodney motions me over and I get on my knees real slow like and start crawling towards where he is at the ladies’ room entrance, suppressing my giggles but not very well. Once we both got in we saw there was a couch and we bolted for that. It had pink roses on it, but I wasn’t that impressed. I mean I’d seen it a couple of times before, couches in ladies’ rooms, and the wonder had almost worn off. So we’re sitting on the couch now just grinning and calling out her name. Eventually we get tired of all that and Rodney goes to the stall door. And on the other side of the stall is this long ass hallway down to the sinks. I mean, it’s a long hallway, especially for a bathroom. So, still kind of laughing I say “I’ll check the hallway” and start marching down it, real Nazi-like, goose-stepping to the soap dispensers. I get down there and it’s nothing special so I just go back. Rodney has stopped laughing earlier so I was already starting to get back in control. Back over at the stall Rodney’s there and he’s banging on the door and screaming. I’m like “dude, let’s chill alright” and he just keeps trying to bust the door down. I’m grabbing his arms and screaming at him and just generally trying to get him to calm the fuck down. And I’m also starting to get worried that the counter bitch saw us come in and maybe she’s gonna call the cops. If she didn’t see us she can probably hear us by now. So now I’m thinking it’s only a few seconds before the cops come in and crazy ass Rodney is tearing up the fucking bathroom. So right as I’m starting to think about running out on everything the door busts down and Rodney falls into the stall. Mellissa’s there and she’s passed out with the window screen in her hands. It looked like she had puked everywhere in the bathroom except for the toilet, including on herself. I guess she was just embarrassed about looking like such a lightweight and tried to jump out the window. But, she didn’t get past removing the screen. I’ve taken all this in and I’m still freaked out about the cops. You know I hate cops. Well, I mean, I don’t have to tell you this do I? So Rodney starts getting up real slow with this painful moan. And I don’t even look around or say anything. I just bolt for the window.
It was actually a nice big one at about crotch level on me. I don’t know what dumbass put that huge window right there or if they thought about how easy it made bathroom escape but I was too happy to take advantage. I just opened it and slipped out and then I was in the alley. It was a cold night. I start heading out and wonder if maybe the cops are already around front. So I go to the back of the alley instead. Right as I pass the window though here comes a groggy Rodney carrying an even groggier Mellissa and they stumble out onto the street. Mellissa worms her way out of Rodney’s arms and is conscious enough to say that we could all go crash at her place. I didn’t need to be told twice and I started running and weaving. I know it’s not that far from Lisa’s to Home-Hill Groves but it felt like tow miles or some shit. By the time Mellissa and Rodney stumbled up to the house I had been there for five minutes and was strewn across the front porch, still catching my breath and fumbling with my lighter, trying to light a clove. Mellissa led us down to the basement. I didn’t even ask if her parents were home. I figured the esteemed Bob and Laura were off fuckling with economics in Spain or some shit. I figured they probably hadn’t stopped in the few months since I’d been there last. She unrolled the sofa bed for me and then went into her own room to change clothes. Rodney sat on the couch across me for about ten seconds before he followed her. I didn’t say anything about it but it seemed gross that he still wanted her with all that sick on her. I mean, I’m certainly not gonna fuck a chick with puke all over her, at least not without a shower. I didn’t hear any running water and that was sick too. Then I got to thinking maybe he liked it all gross and sick like that and maybe he was some kind of chronic sex-farting fetishist. That was almost a little too much so I tried to stop there. But I kept imagining Rodney having a huge Sex Farter patch on his jacket and it made me laugh. Then I imagined it as a tattoo but something else struck me. If he worked at a tattoo parlor then why didn’t he have any visible tats. I guessed that maybe they were all under his clothes but it still seemed suspicious. I wrote him off then because I figured he wouldn’t be around much longer anyways. Mellissa hasn’t stayed with any dude very steady since you left man. (Neal don’t take this all personal but I want to be straight shit with you. Alright?) I’m sitting there thinking about all of this and glad I can’t hear any noises or anything and then this dog starts barking. I kind of grunt disapprovingly and rub my head for a second. Because it’s a yappy dog and I just want it dead. I’m a cat man through and through, but I am not a dick about it. But man this dog was fucking past annoying and would not shut the fuck up. So, I go over ot the glass door that goes out to the backyard and I yell “Shut the fuck up, you fucking DOG! Go suck dicks in hell!” After that last flourish I slam the door and go back to my sofa bed and put some couch pillows over my ears but they don’t really do anything. Then, eventually, the barking stops and I look up thankfully. And there’s this crazy middle-aged dude in an open bathrobe standing at the door. The first thing I see is his fucking dick hanging out, which is all “hi hello there”, and I didn’t need that. Then I notice he’s got a baseball bat and he looks fucking pissed. He catches my eye and starts fucking screaming his head off “What the fuck did you say to MY dog!?” So I’m just like shaking my head and backing up on the sofa bed and then he raises the bat. And I start going “No, no, no, no, no, nononononono!” But he just fucking smashes the glass. At this point I’m looking for something to hit him with and all there is around me is a big satellite TV remote, so I grab that. Then I notice he’s got his arm caught on glass in the door and it’s gushing blood and he’s yelling and screaming. So, without thinking and in like total panic, I just lift my foot and crack him right in the face and he goes down. Blood everywhere man. I didn’t even know if he was still alive. That just cut everything loose for me and I bolted up and out of the house. I was headed for my house but then this giant gap starts opening in the street and I’m falling and yelling and the dog starts barking again. Then there’s this weird throb in my head and I sit up real quick. I puke over the side of the sofa bed. It was the most real dream I’ve ever had. It was just visceral. I hope you don’t think I was trying to trick you there Neal. I though the whole thing sounded better the way it felt to me. It wasn’t about fucking with you. After all that I had a really fucking awful headache too.
Then I really did decide to leave, even though it’s about an hour to walk. I figured if they found the puke I could tell them Mellissa did it or maybe they would already think that. I didn’t think they would remember much anyways. On the way home I stopped at the Dinosaur Wrangler gas station place and picked up some aspirin. Now I’m finally home and still feeling strange so I just started writing to you. You’re who I would always tell this shit to anyways. I figure this is great writing practice too. I think it’s just life and everything that hit me. That sounds really full of shit but I’m not sure that it’s not supposed to. I mean, I’m just home after another night of bullshit, and sure there was excitement but I don’t wanna live like that. I never planned too. I never planned so much shit but everything I plan never even turns out. When am I gonna start living? When am I gonna just sit down and breathe because everything finally hit that bearable mark. I don’t even know if that’s ever going to happen or even what’s realistic to expect. And then how do I deal whit that uncertainty when I need something certain to just level everything out once in a while? How do you climb a fucking mountain everyday when you can’t see the top and you don’t even know that there is one of if the air is just gonna cut out? I mean, Rodney seemed to have his shit together but then he totally lost it and he’s fucking someone like six years younger. It scares me. Because I really do want to have my shit together. Especially when I’m fucking twenty-five. But, how do you get that and where does it come from? Is it all that adult responsibility? Because, I can’t even feasibly or monetarily accomplish that right now. Is it just a decision I have to make? If it is then I decide it soon, next time I feel strong. If it’s just the money and the place of your own then I don’t know what to do but wait. But, I think that I’m so tired of waiting, personally and culturally. I just don’t want to play another waiting game. I can’t go back to simple times but I’m not old enough to get my shit together. I mean there’s nothing left to do but say “Goddamn it all” and sulk on the couch. And everyone knows that doesn’t look any good. But, I almost don’t even care now.
Everybody misses you a lot, especially me I think. Craig and JH don’t want to have practice without you and I think things are going to start going downhill there. I wonder if you still get a chance to play. I really hope so. Craig is having a party tonight and I think I might go over. I don’t’ know it it’s all the feelings but I might try going sober for awhile. But, I think I would still go to the party. I bet that I could still have a good time. I don’t know if this is a social experiment or a wellness plan or what man. Neal, I want to tell you that what they did to you fucking sucks and everybody here is really behind you and just all of that shit. If you ever need any more testimony you just tell me and I have got your fucking back. No problem at all. Hell, it might even go over better if I can stay clean. I’m sure it would. I want to do anything I can to help and I’m going to write again real soon, hopefully not just when I’m feeling weird and confessional. Feel free to write me back if they give you the time in there. I don’t know all the rules about everything, just what I’ve seen on TV. And that’s limited too because you know I don’t get any of those premium channels with all that edgy bullshit. I don’t want to have to focus on all of that anyway. I really just wish they hadn’t carted you so goddamn far away. Once I get enough cash to get out to Walla Walla I am there though. I promise sincerely man. I think I’m gonna pass out again soon and then I’ll probably have to go to work before the party. My dad got me a job working at Smith Warehouses outside of town. I’m working with pharmaceuticals and medical equipment, shit like that. It’s pretty simple and I like the pay. I do have to put up with a lot of stupid pothead shit there. I swear they are like the fucking living dead just shambling about and messing every little goddamn thing up. I guess they got fired from dish washing. That’s what I always think and it makes me feel better, to belittle them. I can remember when we would go out to Gorgeous George’s Gorge and take potshots at the stoners with our BB gun, your brother would drive us. It’s tough to remember all of that stuff these days and I think it might stay tough. But I’m always trying to stay tougher and man you’ve gotta do the same thing. Shit, my fucking parents are up now so I better hit the sack. Like I said, I’ll write more later. I won’t sign my real name for various reasons.
But Jesus Christ Neal you should know it by now.

Love and Sincerely,
Shits and Giggles