The Story Of My Fucking Life


Posted by ilbebe on January 24, 2012

Though there were no ghosts this past weekend, there were many spirits, and thus this chapter is for the ghost of John Paul Jones, the Scotsman who fought for the Colonies some 236 years ago now.  You’ll recall his favorite apocryphal statement; “I have not begun to fight!” This is crucial to the notion that everything you do has already begun and at the same time cannot ever be finished. Like a hot tuna sandwich, for if one ate one not every seven days, there might be no seventy-six.

The seed for the weekend was planted the previously Friday night as I wobbled home from a friend’s apartment around 3AM. I’d been at an informal beer pong tournament being held at the Mexican restaurant my roommate Ess works at, and I was in full bloom, if not at full tilt. Anyhow, I had no sooner begun the last leg of my journey home when my sister Rae sent me a text asking me if want to go out on a date the following Friday. I agreed, and so last Friday, 1/20/12, I found myself standing in the rain outside a whomp-whomp dance club in SoMa. I was with Rae and her fella, and about ten or fifteen other affiliates of her gang. I will issue a warning: do not go to a whomp-whomp dance club during the first significant downpour of the year. The club and its staff will be woefully unprepared to make the club safe or comfortable.

The rest of the weekend is best described as a series of impressions.

Hi there, seven bucks for a beer? Man it’s loud in here. There’s gotta be somewhere that’s a little quieter. Ah, the mezzanine usually delivers. Where do you think those stairs go? Hi there? Wanna investigate? AAAHHHHHHHH! My fucking hip! How’m I gonna look young and cool now? You don’t care? AAAHHHHHHHH! Self, make the best of it. Stand outside and smoke, and find someone else to help. Hey, you look like you could use some help. Do you feel better now? Me too. I think I’ll head back inside and stand at the back of the room.

This sucks. Ah shit, there goes that girl. Do I look like I want or need a flower? Go ahead, stand in front of me. What am I supposed to do in this corner? OH SHIT. You came back. Let’s get outta here. Let’s walk down Sixth Street in the rain. Let’s wait for a bus or train. Let’s stay awake until an hour before dawn.

Let’s get coffee and a bagel. Yr dog is wonderful. Have fun with yr friends, see ya later? Hiya sis, last night was nuts. Lemme show ya this bruise. There’s more. I was really fucking mad at you the year before last. I’m not anymore, but I needed you to know. Let’s get the gang together. Let’s go looking for salvation in the East Mission. Does anyone say that? Did they ever?

Dios mio, where are we? What does this guy want with us? Why is he squaring up to me? Help. Thank you for your help. Tonight is much better than last. Hi, Kate! Happy birthday! Here’s my number. We’ll be in touch. How’s yr fella? Didn’t realize his birthday just passed too. So what’s he got for me? Words?

12:02am – adios, mas joven mi. One or two more, probably, someday. For now, in this rising tide, we need only high life, a vodka soda, and a bullitt rye manhattan. We jam econo, daily and nightly. In the leviathan night, walk four over, two up, then keep going. You’ll find sanctuary and warmth, and it’s not even in a cave. Sleep well. Football awaits to disappoint.

Awake too soon. Football needs more time to prepare to disappoint. Coffee and a bagel round two, and damn if Herr Fullerine isn’t looking even better today! Lay around and watch disappointment, round one. Boston only partially buried thus far this season. Rats, and not good ones. Let’s boogie.

Well, he beat the blitz, I guess we’ll give it a whirl. I like this place. This is going pretty well so far. So let’s fuck it up. Let’s go for a walk. Let’s revel in what makes SF great. Let’s hit Daly’s place and get loud. Let’s be part of the disappointment. Let’s go, again. This city is more than a team. It’s a fucking nightmare, and it’s a bloodbath. It’s great, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need to sleep. Can I sleep at yr place again?

I’ll be on my way now. Thanks for everything. See you soon. I need a cheeseburger.

Sparky’s to Market to Franklin to Green to Columbus to Montgomery to BART. The city is so quiet and calm in the wake of defeat. It seems okay, eaiser to love. Vandals hit the BofA on Montgomery pretty good. Good on ‘em. All the same, Back To Oakland.

Has this fight yet begun, or was there ever one? I feel good. I haven’t had a cigarette in over sixty hours, and I used to define myself that way. I used to smoke to divide my time into manageable compartments so that I didn’t get overwhelmed. Now I believe in myself. It’s been a strange week, and a stranger weekend, and damn if I didn’t encounter the strangeness that I imagined was out there, somewhere. What’s the moral here? Find yr strange?

How about

Find a strand within you that you can stand on.

You can balance on a string, but not a razor.

There was never any razor.

You can borrow my string.

-1/24/12, 2:00pm, home, hydrated, sucka-free:)


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