lokismoke: October 2006

The scale dipped down and clanked on the table.
"Oy oy easy there!"
"Never mind. you had all day to do this and what? I come home from work and it's all out still like you didn't have time to get around to it."
I don't have time for this. I can't find my jacket. Let him muck about weighing it all out. Find your coat Nate, and go from there.
The dogs listlessly watched us on their sides. They never seemed too concerned when we were yelling at each other. hitting was a whole other set of stress.
Franco was better at weighing things out anyways. He'd have gone behind my bags and re-weighed everything. Coat. Where's my coat?
"Maybe if you weren't zipping around here all coked up you wouldn't be in a snit."
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED...Oh. Sorry. Yeah I guess I am a little tweaked." At least I was capable of talking myself down whereas Franco would have been clinging to the ceiling by now.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I zig-zagged throught the apartment in a nonsensical path trying to figure out what I had done with my jacket. Taking a step back I picked at the buttons on my shirt. Purple. Purple shirt. Is this too much? am I going to look like a tubby violet wandering around Bob's place? it was hard for me to maintain focus... my brain was blipping every few seconds with a thought while my eyes stared at all the weed on the table. A couple more packages and then we can toss it all into the lockers and forget about it for another night.
finally i spied my jacket underneath my wintercoat draped over a chair. right where i had tucked it away like a paranoid squirrel this afternoon.
"Did you put aside a full order for Meat?"
I nibbled on my nail. Oh fuck. I knew I had put some extra aside... Think stupid. Think think think think thiiiiiiii "IT'S UNDER THE TABLE!!"
"OK! Lord calm down! Here I found it. Fucking coke brain idiot."
"Sorry... it just comes out loud..."
"Ok, a full order for Meat and the rest are dealer specials. the ones with the black tape are rip offs, the silver ones are fair and this one," He jammed a creepy cat sticker on the front. "This one's for Meat. Don't mix them up."
"Yeah I think I got it. I mean, I came up with that coding so I might forget..."
"Yeah good with colour coding dope bags but you can't divide them out in the first place!"
I seriously thought about whipping a book at his head or breaking his stupid pointy face with it... Woah step back. I put my hands up in surrender and gathered up my wallet on top of the shelf and whatever loose change was piled beside it. Franco wasn't giving up.
"You know Nate, you'd think you'd be a little more sensitive to me about the coke. You KNOW I don't do it anymore..."
Here we go...
"Don't you KNOW how rude it is to be like this in front of me?"
It was so hard for me to deal with him being this overtly agressive. This wasn't about drugs or me being too sketchy to weigh in things... It was about me spending all day with Dallas.. And having the audacity to be fucking someone who wasn't Franco... The sick feeling clenched my stomach. The way I would feel as though he was going to back me into a corner and be on top of me... but there was no excuse of being drunk handy... just rage and me trying to ignore his pent up agression.
I wiped imaginary change off the book shelf again and turned my back on him. A cup of tea I had forgotten about was still tepid enough to go through the motions of drinking and it was away from Franco's eyes and the metallic clanking of the scale being put away.
Still feeling high and out of my mind I didn't know if I could be in the same room as someone who frightened me as well as keep me tied to him emotionally. How silly... I towered over him but would wilt when he laid into me for some goof or convienent outlet to yell at me when I wouldn't return his affections.
The cup of tea separated into ripples of motion as my finger touched the surface. Any distraction. Any excuse to disengage from a confrontation. Sucking the tea off my finger I walked out of the kitchen to grab my coat. I could use a wisk of eyeliner before we left anyways.
Franco was quiet and sat up rigidly on his knees... looking forward... towards the dogs who had moved off of the couch. Both were on their feet and standing stock still. Square and stiff and staring. I froze and watched the hair on their haunches tilt up...Nem sucked in air through his snout and filled his barrel chest... Bez's ears pulled back and all of his body flared out.
In the hallway we could hear footsteps padding around our doorway and a light clinking of metal. Someone was trying to stick a key in the lock... and it wasn't some confused senior in the building. Hush hush voices.
"Franco, put it all into the locker. Now."
We gathered everything up and set it down in the locker... A black steel containder laid on the floor for us to lock up sensitive materials. Thick metal, tumbler lock and a fake front to pull down like a shutter. No one knew that's what it was, or at least we both trusted each other never to tell.
The dogs were listening still and we stood behind them when everything was locked up.
"Do you think they hear us?"
"I can still hear them trying different keys. Fuck, I think they're trying to pick the lock."
"This is insanity... What should we do?"
No guns in the apartment. We were both on parole and funny enough the parole officers had been more adamant that we were gun free. Which seemed like an easy enough thing except we were feeling pretty exposed right now.
I walked softly over to the door and ducked under the black cloth I kept nailed over the peep hole so no one could see movement go by it.
Nem and Bez began a low growl that made my hands shake. this was fucked and we all knew it wasn't going to be a misunderstanding.
Peeking through I ducked down quickly and gave a startled glance at Franco.
"Jesus! what?!"
"Call 911, those two broke motherfuckers are trying to rob us."
"No. No way in hell would they have the balls to just break in here."
"Well they're fucking out there!" I squeaked it out in terse whispers. "Currently they're trying to pick the lock. It's like they think we're not here..."
Franco was reaching for the phone. "Pass it to me I'm going to call..."
I backed up into the kitchen and cupped a hand around the bottom of the reciever.
"Hello? 911? I'm in the Stienbeck Alley appartments in 403... Someone is trying to break in... Please help me!"
Franco watched my mouth curl into a terrible smirk. "Yes please please hurry... I have to get off the phone before they hear me!"
"Someone else already called!"
Ah neighbourhood watch. "Let's fucking do this. I'm up for it right now...Break into my apartment?"
Franco wrapped his hands around the dogs leather collars and jerked them backwards. He squatted down with them on each side of his face. "Who's there? Who's there? Get 'em... Get 'em..." He chanted at them and they were ready to flip. I stood back and called Franco over to me... One more click and a thunk and we watched the deadbolt turn from the other side of the door... my god i'm going to make these two pay.

the carpet in the room was trampled down to a dirty grey. i can only imagine what it would have looked like clean and sans cigarette butts. i roll over stiffly and moan. so this is what it's like to sleep on the floor in a drug dealers house. not that i was out slumming for an experience, it just happened to be where i ended up passing out.
how do people live in a house and grind out their cigarettes on the floor when i can count one two three fucking ash buckets?
the room was awash in bits of paper, dead lighters and other miscellaneous ends of things that i couldn't make out in the far corners. here i was half-drunk and high still appalled at the ammount of garbage on the floor. Especially when i'm the one who decided to take a nap after i crashed from the festivities. my face was tender... what does it look like now?
my mouth made a tacky nyup nyup nyup noise as I tried to infuse some moisture in there. i dragged myself up to a shaky lean on my elbow and pressed the light on my watch.
7:18am.
oh, you have to be kidding me. i couldn't even pass out until at least 9am when my boyfriend would be off work and i could call for a ride. mmm... temple massage.... blood was thumping into my face and i laid back down. instead i turned my attention to Franc passed out. lucky sod. i rolled over and lightly leaned in to check out his lip which puffed out dangerously. the dim summer morning light came in a shade of grey at first but soon enough we'd be awash in warm sunlight and feeling like some quasi ghouls retreating away ino close curtained rooms.
Franc had simply passed out where he had flopped down what would have been what? yeesh, only 4 hours ago. i worried that sleeping on this dirty-ass floor was going to get his stiches infected. maybe i should have been more worried about having to go home with a busted nose and all my knuckles split in rough tears.
the perkaset i had wheedled out of the doctor would wear off soon. good thing i had enough foresight to get more before I left.
hospital had been an experience to say the least. i never end up there for something like the flu or anything that doesn't involve me talking to a cop before or after i go in.
the doctor pulled back the curtain embarking on the usual no eye-contact "i'm a doctor and i'm a douche and i fucking hate working emerg shifts because all you punks come in at ungodly hours..." speech about what had happened but was stunned when he looked at me. not that i was in bad shape at that point, it's just that i had met him before in less than savoury circumstances. my boyfriend and i had picked him up at a bar to have a threesome and were less than impressed when he couldn't get it up from being too drunk. no one needs to go through the process of bringing someone back home for that to contend with performance anxiety. we kicked him out and he never acknowledged us again when we saw him out.
the horror was not only rooted in the fact that i was well aware of his noodledick tendancies but that i was looking at him and then directly down at the wedding band on his finger.
"tut tut tut."
"Ah..."
Smirk. That's nasty, boy... not only do I see you at the gay bar all the time, but you can't even bring the wife with you? what a shame.
"W...what seems to be the problem?"
"well, i got dragged in with the cops. just a little disagreement you see? my friends that came in with me are awful sorry for all the problems. I'm actually in good shape considering... black eye, nose is a little more crooked and these." I lifted up two hands that were sticky with now brownish red stains. the cuts were glistening still where the knuckle bends and i knew they couldn't stich them up.
oddly he seemed to rush up to me to grasp my hands and look closely at the cuts. i bent my fingers down to show how the skin split while being curled into hard fists. the rush from the brawl started to wear off and I panicked that i'd have to start feeling pain. i squeezed his hands in mine for effect.
"Yeah, they're cut up but i'm sure I'll be fine."
he looked at me with a half open mouth and i started to think that maybe i wouldn't have to pander around too much for meds.
"Would you mind just helping me clean myself up a little and wash out the cuts..." I looked over to see his security pass and name tag above it. "Dennis is it?" We hadn't exchanged names pre the disasterous threesome and it unnerved him to hear me say it outloud. or was it because my hands had that dusty grit all over them that can only come from dried blood? or was it from me gripping him and that keen sensation of a ring pressing against the pinky and middle finger?
The name game had upset him and he tried to pull out of my grasp.I yanked him into me. Calmly, I asked for some perkasets and to get going with this because i had a party to go to. i let go and shoved his hands back.
he looked devastated but i wiggled some fingers dismissivly for him to go bring back some treats. I leaned back and could hear some screaming off in the distance. thankfully i wasn't anywhere near Nem or Tim to listen to their shrieks. I hope Franco's ok. "Franc? FRANCO?" I called over the curtains hoping he'd hear me.
"Hoy! Wherff's the doctor?"
"Chill baby, he'll fix me up and be right in to see you."
"Wuuaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
"Holwy shif..."
"Franco! Can you hear that? That's remorse!"
I could hear Franco chuckle and hiss back some spit. it's not easy to laugh with a floppy split bottom lip you know.
Sitting back in the bed I rather enjoyed hearing the crying down the hall and knowing that i, Nathan Stinson, wasn't going to get arrested for this on. Oh this is a nice feeling. Better yet knowing i could get some serious blackmail on the go with Dr. Dennis. Speaking of which... he was back...

----------------------

franco in the hospital perspective:

i groaned a little. the needle was always the worst part of getting stitches. the sensation made my teeth chatter and i shut my eyes. that tingling spreading across the skin. it felt like i was being pumped with litres of it and felt my face droop a little.
"augh! too muffch..."
the snotty little doctor wasn't listening and intently studying any place but my eyes.
"yeeoo, dudff, enough of the freezing."
oh good. not only are you a prick but your deaf.
i tried to lay out some cantonese and still no response other that patting down the skin on my forehead to test for any flinching. i gave up and sat upright on the gurney pouting. my mouth was dripping blood again from trying to talk with broken teeth. I wanted to spit it up as it welled in a metallic wave behind my teeth. I couldn't stand the thought of swallowing it and my stomach lurched just thinking about it. i was going to lean a head over the side of the bed, but the doctor was already gearing up with the needle. too late now... hey, if he fucks this up you can always drop a gob of blood on his shoes.
i smirked and the doctor shot me a frown. trying to win him over with personality i smiled a cracked-tooth grin to get a laugh. Nothing. I gave up and finally leaned in to get sewn up. it doesn't hurt at this point. the tugging of the skin is horrifying but you can't tangibly say it hurts. how many stitches? this is embarassing...
down the hall someone screamed out my name and the doctor paused, his cool attitude ruffled by the screaming. Dilligently focusing on keeping my mouth shut i sweated hard. there was almost too much in my mouth to keep in.
fuck you doctor. i should be laying down for this. prick. prick. prick. pri.... oh shut up.
the screaming was louder but my name was replaced with agonizing ahhhhhhhhs. breath ripped out in pain until they shoved something in his blood to shut him up.
rapidly getting hotter... all i could do was look up awkwardly and see gloved hands tugging and threading. no, i'm pretty sure i should be laying down right now. how old is this doctor? or do they get nurses to do this shit now? no a nurse wouldn't have me bending over like an asshole. i try to look at the doctor beyond the hands and silver glints above my eyebrow and i start to loose focus.
my mouth is full now and a small spurt comes down my lip and tips over my chin.
pulling a suture shut the doctor mashes the needle sideways to my head with whatever pliers he's using. he grabs for a steel basin and casually puts it under my mouth.
gluck....
i heave a little and too much comes out. i look into it.
"are you fushking new or something? i shoulf be laying down."
the doctor was horrified at the basin full of black red blood and my crass response.
"are you ok? you..." he looked at the basin.
awesome. you never want to be sitting in the hospital and see the doctor become both alarmed and baffled.
a hiss and the curtains were pulled back a little.
"this one looks better than the other one at... least... hey, did he just throw that up?"
The doctor was staring at the basin still.
"oyyf! oyyf! tell him i threw that up you..."
"Calm down! Lean back or I'm getting security to chain you up!"
oh okay, finally we get a professional around here.
"What the hell is he doing sitting up leaning over?! He's going to faint any minute now..."
i shook my head, you see?
"I..." He had no text book response, only staring into the red mess and looking like he was going to pop from the insanity.
the curtains pulled back violently with a zinging hiss.
"You fucker! I'm going to see the both of you assholes get arrested for this!"
Leaning forward i let a sloppy spray of blood come off my mouth as I lisped for effect. "Comethh gethh me copperrrth..."
"Agh! Stay back!"
the two officers lept backwards but the second doctor stood his ground and rushed forward.
Thwack!
he turned his metal clipboard on it's side and batted me in the chest with it.
"Sit back NOW. Don't fuck with me tonight."
I grimaced and sat as far back as I could in the pillows.
"Stitch him up pronto. You need to find out if he's bleeding somewhere else than his mouth. Do it now. We don't want anything to happen to him."
"Oh gowdth forbid."
The cops knew enough to get out of the doctors way as he stomped past them. They put on their courage and shook squareheads at me disapprovingly.
"Finish this cocksucker up. we have some questions to ask."
"YOUTH GO ASK THATH FLATH FACE FUCKER DOWN THETH HALL WHATH..."
"Not another word!"
I was fuming, but i needed the endorphin rush. i laid back against the pillows and felt the first doctor come into view. he was shaking and looking at me wide eyed. I was unrepentant. These interns have to learn something about reality before they retreat into treating hemroids and doling out placebos in family practices.
Smug, I smiled again. I looked up at the doctor picking up a new needle and trying not to look at my face again. feeling mean I grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze in my bloody hand. before i could lay some mindgame on him i felt all the warmth fall out of me. like a plug being yanked up I felt my lips burn cold and everything fell forward. all i could see was the doctor stare with his mouth open as I fainted... where am I going to wake up now?

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side bar story that i was attempting to work on from the dr's perspective. didn't really go anywhere exciting but i'll paste it in here anyways

these graveyard shifts at the hospital are terrible. i can't stand being in here after dark. the crowd shuffling in gets strange as the moon gets full. the crackheads and homeless get in my face with brown teeth and stinking smell. how can anyone deal with this every night? february. 7 months and i can get out of this, this... this HELL hole. truly this is hell. this is where i belong until i can stop the insanity. immediately i'm feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. maybe i ended up here because i'm being punished?
i spend an entire shift lancing infected lacerations and stitching up cuts from drunks falling down... looking at sick faces high on crystal meth smacking at soft grey teeth. i'm repulsed looking at them and feeling their tight skin. trying to tell me something to get me to give them painkillers. they disgust me. they defecate themselves in rages or while they're passed out in the waiting room. slumped over after being up for days on end. why should they even make me treat them? it's a waste of medicine. a waste of resources. why put money into these people. I glare at them as they shuffle off to try and get medicine from other places. Then i get that look from him. that nurse. that thing behind the station always looking at me and shaking his head. i could, i could... slap him. it gives me a rush to see it in my mind. running up to him and slapping him over and over again until he falls to the floor in fear. i wanted to stop feeling helpless by just one look. to be so controlled and guiltstricken over it? why should i feel terrible for thinking less of some people in here? i'm supposed to help but sometimes it just feels like water into an ocean. no difference is made, nothing is noticed. soon i could get money rounded up to go back to school when Beverly is done law school. I can go back and find something to excuse me from this place. away from the waste of life... away from the looks.
i see that nurse at the bar. when i'm weak and I go. i see him looking at me there and he has more power than he realizes. i move without acknowledging him. he can't stop me when i'm drawn to that sinful place. he's so obvious. no respect for his manners and actions. what would his family think to see him flit around like that? horrifying to think about him living a lifestyle in the open. so much shame. how can he live like that?
when i first started doing internship here i felt envious. something i realized was almost as terrible as knowing what he did when he wasn't at work. i actually was jealous of someone living such a morally bankrupt existence. no care or concern of what will happen after this life. it's like he can't even imagine how wicked life he is immersed in is. those stories. those stories he tells the women nurses. i feel sick when he starts up about his new "friend". i heard him say he'd never date a Korean man again when i was grabbing a phone call. i got up and left but not before i knocked a stack of clipboards over with a metal crash. flustered i shook my head like i was disappointed that he would be so rude. was he meaning me? did he mean that i wasn't attractive? i stopped and felt worse for dwelling on such a vain point. sin. pure and simple.
i tried to distance myself from the impulses i fell through on when i was weak. i wouldn't dwell any more. i would move forward and focus on being pure and a good husband. i could do it. i could resist temptation and i must to be a good man.
there would be no more trips to sodom. there would be no more drunken nights of lies... "gone on a training course". how terrible to lie to her like that! the drinking until i could walk over to someone or allow myself to be pulled into a grasp and fall apart. trying to be taken away by someone for a few hours. it felt so good, but then again, isn't that what the crux of sin is? the pleasure from something so intensely vile? No more. no more trips to apartments that i would wake up in terrified and frantic. escaping as fast as i could before I double over in pain until got sick or had a panic attack. if i stopped doing this things would get better. i could get better. i could work towards pennance. to be there for Beverly and not find excuses to avoid having a baby. escape this place and the thoughts. the time inbetween seeing emergency cases in the early morning. waiting for the bars to let out and scoop up the remains.
"Doctor Dennis... I mean," that horrible effeminate voice he did to anger me. "Doctor Cheng... your services are needed. there's four gentlemen who were in a fight..."
terse. "thank you Leon."
a flourish and bow. ugh. have some respect for yourself!
"room 3 needs stitches... I have a table set up."
"thank you."
I looked down at my clipboard until he was walking away. i fretted that Dr. Lee would be in to do rounds while i was in there and critique all my work... i began to prepare myself to patch up another loser of society when Leon called over his shoulder, "He's cute. Totally your type. You know, tall, meaty and well-spoken." I spun around to reprimand him but he was gone around the corner to laugh with the other fat hens at the nurses station.
Do I need this? I'm trying to help here. I don't want to deal with this. Time to fix someone up. Deep breath. Pull back the curtain...

--------------------------------

"Nateff, my fafe hurths..."
"Aw Franco I know. The doctor did a shit job on that bottom suture."
"Whatf wit him anyways?"
"You remember that one time Dallas and I brought home a dude from the bar..."
His eyes brightened and he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop from laughing and subesquently spitting all over the place. He managed to shout out behind his hand. "Noodful dick?!"
"Yes Noodle Dick. The one and only ill-fated threesome friend."
Franco alternated between giggling & frowning. His top lip had been stiched from the bottom tip straight up to his nose and it's amazing how cogniscent one is of your lip when it's been split up the middle.
We were walking up from the hospital over to Bob's place and had already started drinking on the way over. I plugged away at some rye and Franco was on a misson to get through his gin before we walked in.
"Auk! Fahk! Fahking hurts man."
"the gin at least should irradicate any infection."
"Hrmm... I can'tf believe it. Look at our fuckthing shirts!"
I pulled open my blazer and looked down at sickly chocolate brown stains on my new purple oxford shirt.
"Ah damn it. Hey, nothing on the blazer though."
The shirt I could deal with... The blazer I had bought at the Goodwill and had spent hours tailoring it and putting on the skull and roses patch on the front. Dad said I looked like a faggot going to a funeral and I thought it would be an amazing band name. Again I pulled back on the rye. Franco grabbed my hand to turn the bottle over.
"yeah it's Rhodesian Rye..." I jiggled the bottle a little. "Tradsies?"
Franco nodded a thanks since speaking was devolving into a disgusting lisp. I poured the gin over my knuckles and hissed. "Ahh... Ahh... ah this is better than whatever Dr. Limp washed me down with." To me you do painful things like this to remind you that the dull pain could be much worse. My nose was plugged tight with congeled blood at the back and dried flecks at the front. I'd blow it out but I felt faint the last time I tried to touch my nose.
We traded bottles back and kept walking. The city was rolling into late evening. Far from the bars downtown we instead headed towards the South Ward and pulled the bottles down every time a car drove past. All I needed was some cop to round us up again after we had dodged getting arrested once already. They hate letting you go so it's a hop, skip and a lame excuse to get slotted back into a cruiser.
Franco and I carried on in silence and listened only to the residual white noise of the downtown at our backs and the bubbling sound of liquor being channeled into the bottle necks. There was a heavy feeling in the middle of my forehead that made my head throb... even though the booze, even through the perkaset. I was definately coming down from the high you get when you fight. Now all I wanted was to get to Bob's and sit on the couch for a bit. Stiff hands, burning knuckes and my nose felt like it was 20 pounds sitting on the front of my face.
10 minutes. 15 minutes. 30 minutes of no words being spoken. I was feeling lucid now at least but the painkiller and alcohol made me feel weepy and anxious. I missed Dallas and started to get worked up wanting to see him and just go home with him.... His night shift was hours and hours away from being done and that spiked my misery further. I must have sniffed a little and Franco looped his arm through mine to tug me over towards him. He squeezed and I talked myself down from the precarious edge before I flipped out. We waited at a stop sign for a car to pass and someone screamed, "fucking homos!" at us. Normally we would have whipped our bottles at the car but we needed them more as medication than a weapon.
"Assfholes... I hateth thiss town."
I didn't respond. Drink drink drink. Hot flash in the stomach and the physical pain retreated a little further back.
Franco stayed attached to my arm and I tried to ignore him looking up at me. He would get amorous when we had been drinking and gin was all the excuse he needed to feel the urge to make a move. God, don't do it tonight Franc.
A thudding beat from a kick drum was throbbing around the corner. Ah, fantastic, Bob's still playing.
"THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT DAWESTOWN!"
"Fuck! We fucking missed Bob's set."
Franco was looking away pissed off, but I assumed it was more from me ignoring his mooney face for affection rather than missing Bob & company shriek out another Poison the Well cover.
After rounding the corner I could see the usual suspects milling around on the front porch straining to see us in the darkness. I'm assuming we looked frightening since the 7 people looking out gasped as we walked into the fuzzy porch light.
"Franco! Nathan!" Carly vaulted over the railing towards us.
"I heard you two got jumped at the house!"
"Mmhmm.." I smacked my lips as the rest of my rye escaped into my stomach. "we're ok though, just a little banged up."
Franco had slipped his arm out from mine and walked in a daze past everyone. I watched him and made a mental note that he was probably going to be in a funk over the same old story of unrequited friend love.
Carly pulled open my coat and people on the porch oohed. "That beautiful purple shirt! Thank god it's not on the blazer. You, ah... you ah got anything on you?"
"Of course darling. Let's go find your cousin and we'll get down to business."
Carly squeezed me tightly and I appreciated putting some weight on her as we came inside. Everywhere people were staring and already Franco was being mobbed up by Bob and Rick. Clearly no one was sober enough to try and understand what Franco was trying to say and was getting furious.
"Hoy! Guys guys guys, back off. Can we just get down to business?"
I chucked a bag of e on the table and mysteriously they became distracted. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cigarettes, all decoys that had tobacco plugs on the end and were filled with joints. I rattled out 3 pills that were from my personal supply. Carly looked up at me and winked.
"Come on, let's do this Sickboy style."
I dropped it on my tongue and she licked it off to chase it with some beer.
"Everyone off the fucking couch! Let Nathan and Franco sit."
"Thanks Bob."
We fell down on the couch, clearly sitting as far away from each other as possible until Carly came to sit with her head on my shoulder.
Ah, just get me a beer and let me get settled into things... What a fucking night.

----------------

I sat up and woke up all in one foul movement. My head rattled, full of broken glass sounds and a painful throb wrapping tightly behind my eyes. Slitted and now shielded with my hand I tried to let my eyes scan the room.
A clot of slimy blood tore loose from my bent nose and I was forced to hold it in my mouth until i could fish out a tissue to honk it into. It was black black black. Trembling and heaped up in a white tissue... Nothing more than dead blood that had been forming while I passed out. it's a miracle I hadn't choked in my sleep. Quickly clenching my hand I stopped obsessing over the goo and tried to get my bearings. Now my nose felt like a weighted clamp trying to radiate pain across my face. The drugs had finally worn out. I should rightfully take another dose but not on an empty stomach. That's just irresponsible.
I grappled around in the dim of the room... Franc must have pulled the blind when I passed out again... The outline of my phone piled on top of change skimmed over my fingers. The time is: 9:08 AM. How beautiful is that?
"Hello?"
"Hey Dal... It's me."
"Morning! Were you out all night?"
"Oh. Oh yeah busy night. Listen," I stole a glance behind me. Franco was schucking in air in a deep sleep. "Dal, can you come pick me up? I want to go home with you."
"Sure? Are you OK? You never want to come over."
"Just..." I felt nauseus. Dizzy. Almost like I had lost a lot of blood. Like I had broke my nose. Fuck, he's going to flip when he sees me.
"Look Nate, I gotta get into the shower and get the fuck out of here. Where do you want me to get you?"
Steady tone and and brave voice. "Come grab me at the Coffee Hutch on Dale Street."
"Got it... See you soon?"
"Yep..."
"Hey asshole, I can't see you nodding. It's a cell phone."
"Yes Dallas. You shall see me soon."
"Better. Be there in 30 minutes."

----------------

I tried to put some water in my mouth. The pleasant numb throb I had coasted on all night had ecked backwards into terrible pain. The perkasets had been rationed out already in my mind to prevent myself from trying to dose myself recreationally and wind up stranded in two days with cramped bowels and nothing leftover. It hurt to inhale, to tip forward or backwards... to do anything really. my thoughts spiked downwards and I gripped my legs sitting on the stoop outside of the coffee shop. The shaking was rattling my resolve and I couldn't sit still thinking about Dallas and what he'd do when he saw me.
I had swore to him that I wasn't getting deeply involved in dealing again... That I was just hanging out with Franco instead of lapsing back into shady exchanges... And swore that he wouldn't have to come get me out of jail... or have to get me to hole up with him to avoid the police. My eyes swelled out some guilty tears - nothing to do with actual sadness so much as the sadness that I would be in trouble. The perpetual liar. The glorious fuck up wrapped up in a stolen hoodie. The shivering indian with eyes glossy and wet.. A nose covered in flat and matted bandages curling at the edges with crusty blood. I ground a curled knuckle to my eyes to push away some tears before someone walked past me and inhaled the scent of blood into my mouth. you know what I mean... the taste wrapped around the seam of your tongue. A thickness that lingered mentally long after it was physically washed out of my mouth with a drink or smoke. This smell and taste haunted me and it never ceased to creep into my mouth with only a mention of a person... or thinking of a time and place.
It was the morning and already people walked in and out. Around and beside me to get in for coffee. I was a moron for suggesting this as a meeting place but I didn't trust myself to be walking around for too long. i had already felt it was an impossible walk from Bob's place the mere 10 minutes to the coffee shack.
Dallas, where the fuck are you?
if I wait out here any longer I'm going to run into someone who knew my dad... or worse still, one of his sisters. In a fit of anger I stood up to call Dallas from the payphone but sat down quickly as i felt the fizzy sensation you get before passing out. I got a matching set of dirty looks from a white couple walking past me and hid my face into sleeves and inhale for the millionth time some gooey and clotted post nasal drip.
Dallas please come get me...
The caged hum of Dallas' truck came up the driveway and I looked up to see his face roll into horror. He barely had the truck in park before he jumped out to grab me and push me into the passenger side. my legs shook as i tried to step up on the runnerboard and Dallas groaned. Gently he got me arraged in sometime that resembled an upright position and bucked me in. I opened my mouth to offer an explination and nothing came out. i was completely dry and had left my water bottle outside on the stoop. Too late, Dallas had hopped back in to start the truck up and backed up in a hurry. The bumps in the roads made me want to wretch and I began to obsess over resisting the urge to be sick over the upholstered material bought through months of overtime.
That and I had to prep myself for the fight that was going to come. I had put aside a tiny morsel of energy for this moment... I hoped he would let me sleep for a bit before tearing into me.
Silence.
Dawestown retreated behind us into small side streets that connected to the backwoods of Ojahai Reserve. We drove through the run down excuses for residential areas and further still onto the gravel road that would take us out to Dallas' moms farm house. I never came out here. I forgot if it was because I couldn't stand Dallas' mother or if it was the shame of seeing a relative.
Dallas had been working on a cigarette and looked forward as he turned easily on the winding driveway. The dogs bolted out from 4 different directions in a sneak attack and bayed as they ran along side. Looking down Hank and June were along my side with Johnny and Merle no doubt taking the drivers side. I couldn't help myself but smile... I had thought that surely one of them had bit the dust by now and smirked thinking about how much they had all terrified my father. i lived for the days when he would take me up to Dallas' house and grip the steeringwheel as Merle would put two paws on his window and bellow. Me opening the door and having the pack of beasts jumping up excited and harmless... running with me up to the door... looking at the livingroom window at Dallas' face and the tight ache in my pants thinking about us lolling on the bed all afternoon.
Dallas pulled down the gear shift and turned the engine off. I was running out of metaphors to run through my head for how my face ached... Again I tried to say something by my mouth was so empty and dry. The dogs yipped outside but my hands didn't move to open the door.
Deep inhale and sniff. Dallas looking forward and giving me nothing.
Deep inhald and a small sob. "Nate. My god... your face."
Nothing from my throat. Please, just take me inside to sleep. Please don't let your mother be home....
I raised a hand to touch him but he slipped out the door to come get me. I steadied myself to pull myself down to walk in and collapsed into his arms and struggled to pull myself up. I began to slip into blackness and the cotton smell of Dallas' shirt... The cut scent of a man who's just scrubbed down dirty skin and replaced it with smooth soap-cleaned comfort. I was jolted awake when my nose pressed up against his chest and yelped, scattering the dogs back 10 feet. i couldn't even look him in the face. i put out my hands and he took them to pull around his side. I leaned into his chest with my arms looped around his waist for support. even the dogs knew something was wrong and didn't try to harass me.
one plodding step after another and through the door. no tv on and no mother to stress over. i looked up at the flight of narrow farmhouse stairs to Dallas' bedroom and cringed. i felt him try to wrap around my legs to give me a lift onto his back and I shook my hand... no no... i'll do it. on all fours I crawled up close to the stairs and found that it was remarkably better for me than standing upright. Dallas trailed me and picked me up finally at the top in a fit of impatience and wisked me into his room to set me on the bed.
my mouth fumbled for some sounds as he pulled my hand to get me upright to pull my sweater off. I tried to keep it on but Dallas pulled it up and made the neck opening wide so my nose wouldn't brush up against it. he looked at what the sweater was hiding... a shirt covered in dried swaths of blood that crumbled and broke off in tiny pieces. He started sobbing and began ripping it open instead of undoing the buttons. i went rigid and felt sick feeling him tear off my shirt and felt as though he was going to hurt me badly...
But... no. he just wanted the shirt off. his freshly shaved face pressed up against my naked shoulded... breathing and holding me until he let me down slowly onto the pillow. my eyes rolled back in a wave of dizziness and my hand went out for his face... i could feel wetness but everything went grey to black.
"Nathan... what have you done?"

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

halloween....2006

so what did you do on halloween night?

Friday, October 27, 2006

mix-o

Sunday, October 15, 2006

new mix-o cd - oct 15 2006

Thursday, October 5, 2006

the lawn gnome liberation front lives on....

Monday, October 2, 2006

fiction - bunch of snippets cut & pasted together into one post instead of many - you're not ACTUALLY going to read this right?

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