Episodes From The Coast
A green anodized Zippo lighter flicks open then closed with an all too familiar ‘snikt’ like how I imagine Wolverines claws sounding in the comic books. I won’t give you the date or time because that’s not important. If I’m honest, I am not sure what’s important anymore. My neighbor who’s a crackhead and was seen praying in the middle of the 101 Highway last week, just asked me if I could cover rent for him. Ten minutes before the lunatic (Zombie Apocalypse) child of maybe six years old knocked on my door. I didn’t answer, so she plastered her face to my window where I write like some odd type of blowfish and asked

“What are you doing?”
“Working, what did you need?”

We sat there a full minute as her face contorted in aberrant patternings as the question rummaged in her head searching for an excuse of human contact.

“My mom needs a stick.”
“OK.” I quickly answered, shutting the blinds with the hope she would leave.

She’s now dancing in the parking lot beneath a clear umbrella with pink polka dots acting like a greenhouse as the sun beats down she’s sweating profusely. All I can think of is the line that keeps appearing in my life over the past three months since I was unceremoniously excommunicated from Canada.
“You couldn’t make this shit up.”
***
This is just another episode in this random story of life creation.
***
One of the memories that replays in my head almost like a Santeria ritual is the day my brother and I walked into my dad’s room in hospice and my brother asked.
“How you doing dad?”
“I’m dying, how the fuck do you think I’m doing?”
I don’t really recall ever visiting my dad after that although I know I did. I remember his liver and kidney failures or near failures. I remember my sisters praying over what was soon to be a corpse and I would cry as well not for his demise but for their pain of not knowing the man I knew. I remember most however, waking from the couch and going to my newly acquired ‘God mobile’. At the time I was convinced of the Christian form, even though I made my one time sister burst out laughing at the fact that I missed my appendix during church. I would later discover that God like my appendix has no use in this life. We die, we become food for bacteria and or worms no matter the preservation we tend to. You’re dead, energy carries on yes, is that a soul or is it energy, and energy cannot be destroyed. Who cares? You’re dead. You will be legend in those whom hold you close and those are few and far between even for a stalker and or fan.
***
I am taking it on a whim that someday this will make sense but for now there’s just these random chunks. As I add to this more I swear to, I dunno someone that this will be the famine chapter. This jumping way forward in the dramatic sequences of my woe-begotten lifestyle which you’re hopefully consuming while snuggled in close with someone you love. Because let me tell you being broke is ok, being broke and alone just plain sucks. Anyway rewind a week ago I am at the office filling out payroll.
I see someone at the front doors on the security cameras. They’re taping something to the door. Naturally, I investigate to discover the owner is now being summarily locked-out due to non-payment of rent. I grab the checkbook and the signature stamp and call my manager. I’ve burned through the resources albeit few they were I had due to the fact that payroll was often delayed while working there.
As it sits now I’m on a wing and a prayer that my prior owner will do what’s right and pay what’s owed. Job search begins Monday. One good note, I have some great leads on sponsors this week too! You know what, I cannot help but right now, but to laugh. I mean literally laughing heartily at this surreal trip of a life. As I’ve been told as many times as I’ve told just part of the story
“You couldn’t make this shit up.”