Yesterday was the day i simply let it be. i Went out and tried my best to just let it go, to ignore the confusion and just... let it be.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your side of the judicial system, the more the day started to slow down the more i started to have one phrase pop into my head.
"We have no chemistry."
i Have to teach myself to buy that.
But, yeah, i miss her.
But, yeah, let it be.
Yesterday was the day i spoke to the man who knew nothing but tragedy. He had said that every decision he had ever made ended up a disaster. He gave me no compromise, he gave me no glimmer of excemptions and ultimatums. Every decision a disaster.
How i came to meet Donald Martin and have the audacity to talk to him i, in all likelyhood, owe to her. And i suppose, in one sense or another, i owe her thanks, for this man showed me something. He told me something.
i Started off my day with a strange cheeriness and happiness that i'll be damned if i knew where it came from. (i Guess i owe her that, too.) i Went down those stairs and i made a proclamation.
"i'M bored"
My sister was not willing to drive me anywhere. That time of month. That isn't some horrible anti-vagina joke. It really was that time of month.
So i Went CARPE DIEM on the day's ass and just went out and walked. If you asked me where at that time i would have looked you in the eyes... point you to one direction and run the other way. And run hard.
As i was walking and listening to tunes and holding this unexplicable sentiment of semi-euphoria, a woman approached me and said two simple words.
"ITS HOOOOTTT"
i Said: Yeah
"YOU THINK THERES A FIRE OR SOMETHING CAUSE ITS HOOOTTT"
i Said: Definately a fire up there (and pointed to the sky)
She laughed and i laughed and we both kept walking.
i Don't usually do those kinds of things.
And then i saw him... a man perched on a pushed over shopping cart staring out into oblivion... i Have always had a special appreciation for the starers, the day dreamers, for they have the courage to tone out the outward stimuli and let the mind feed on it self. i Always found that noble, yet as i walked forward it took some nagging for me to do what i felt i needed to do. i Stopped my music, i turned around, i went up to this man and i said this:
"Can i ask you some questions?"
He said: Yeah, sure.
"Could you tell me your life story"
He mumbled for some time and then said: "Whaddya mean?"
"The highlights of your life..."
He said: "What do you call a highlight?"
"i Don't know, it's your story"
Donald Martin had three wives.
One of which got shot to death in a freak accident, at which the police held on to the fact that she was part of the robbery for five years, yet there was one redeeming fact that they finally cleared her name: the shopping list in her hand. The police accidentally shot this woman and for five years they tried to tarnish her name, claiming she was one of the hoodlums who started the ruckus. And she died.
The second wife died of Sickle Cell Anemia at the age of 21. He said that he held her in his arms in that hospital bed when she passed away. He saw the life slowly dimmer away from that woman... he saw the life be released.
His third wife now lives in Florida and seemingly wants nothing to do with him.
He was born of Quebec, Canada and hence moved to New England at the age of 21, then to Wisconsin, then to Florida, and now to California. He had said life was good in Wisconsin. I asked him what his biggest mistake was and he said:
"Moving away from Wisconsin."
He had went to Florida to visit one of his daughters and she seemingly disowned him when he disagreed with a certian topic of discussion: enlisting his grand daughters into those beauty competitions. He thought they were too young. His wife agreed. His daughter did not.
He had no money to get back to Wisconsin.
He then took a side route and told me the story of his first daughter. She had finished highschool at the age of fifteen and had started college at sixteen when she had "disappeared off the face of the planet." He has no idea where she is.
His dog, Suzy, died a couple weeks earlier. He had her cremnated. He showed me the little jar that was once his one and only friend on his life on the street. He said:
"And now I'm all alone."
He showed me a hospital bill that he had for a heart attack. He owes the hospital 90,000 dollars for his heart giving out on him. i AM sure if he had told the people the story he had to tell, they would have let that money slide.
But he didn't, and he keeps that bill for he can pull it out and scoff at it, for he can scoff the world...
Then i asked him:
"What makes you keep going?"
How i came to meet Donald Martin and have the audacity to talk to him i, in all likelyhood, owe to her. And i suppose, in one sense or another, i owe her thanks, for this man showed me something. He told me something.
i Started off my day with a strange cheeriness and happiness that i'll be damned if i knew where it came from. (i Guess i owe her that, too.) i Went down those stairs and i made a proclamation.
"i'M bored"
My sister was not willing to drive me anywhere. That time of month. That isn't some horrible anti-vagina joke. It really was that time of month.
So i Went CARPE DIEM on the day's ass and just went out and walked. If you asked me where at that time i would have looked you in the eyes... point you to one direction and run the other way. And run hard.
As i was walking and listening to tunes and holding this unexplicable sentiment of semi-euphoria, a woman approached me and said two simple words.
"ITS HOOOOTTT"
i Said: Yeah
"YOU THINK THERES A FIRE OR SOMETHING CAUSE ITS HOOOTTT"
i Said: Definately a fire up there (and pointed to the sky)
She laughed and i laughed and we both kept walking.
i Don't usually do those kinds of things.
And then i saw him... a man perched on a pushed over shopping cart staring out into oblivion... i Have always had a special appreciation for the starers, the day dreamers, for they have the courage to tone out the outward stimuli and let the mind feed on it self. i Always found that noble, yet as i walked forward it took some nagging for me to do what i felt i needed to do. i Stopped my music, i turned around, i went up to this man and i said this:
"Can i ask you some questions?"
He said: Yeah, sure.
"Could you tell me your life story"
He mumbled for some time and then said: "Whaddya mean?"
"The highlights of your life..."
He said: "What do you call a highlight?"
"i Don't know, it's your story"
Donald Martin had three wives.
One of which got shot to death in a freak accident, at which the police held on to the fact that she was part of the robbery for five years, yet there was one redeeming fact that they finally cleared her name: the shopping list in her hand. The police accidentally shot this woman and for five years they tried to tarnish her name, claiming she was one of the hoodlums who started the ruckus. And she died.
The second wife died of Sickle Cell Anemia at the age of 21. He said that he held her in his arms in that hospital bed when she passed away. He saw the life slowly dimmer away from that woman... he saw the life be released.
His third wife now lives in Florida and seemingly wants nothing to do with him.
He was born of Quebec, Canada and hence moved to New England at the age of 21, then to Wisconsin, then to Florida, and now to California. He had said life was good in Wisconsin. I asked him what his biggest mistake was and he said:
"Moving away from Wisconsin."
He had went to Florida to visit one of his daughters and she seemingly disowned him when he disagreed with a certian topic of discussion: enlisting his grand daughters into those beauty competitions. He thought they were too young. His wife agreed. His daughter did not.
He had no money to get back to Wisconsin.
He then took a side route and told me the story of his first daughter. She had finished highschool at the age of fifteen and had started college at sixteen when she had "disappeared off the face of the planet." He has no idea where she is.
His dog, Suzy, died a couple weeks earlier. He had her cremnated. He showed me the little jar that was once his one and only friend on his life on the street. He said:
"And now I'm all alone."
He showed me a hospital bill that he had for a heart attack. He owes the hospital 90,000 dollars for his heart giving out on him. i AM sure if he had told the people the story he had to tell, they would have let that money slide.
But he didn't, and he keeps that bill for he can pull it out and scoff at it, for he can scoff the world...
Then i asked him:
"What makes you keep going?"
He said he did not know.
He said he looks at his pills each morning and wonders why bother? All his loved ones are on the other side.
But in the same light, he said, he feels like someone is there.
That he is not alone.
He told me the story of his run in with a psychic and how she depicted the death of his Sickle Celled wife almost to a tee... and how he saw his dog fall from a table but seemlingly be suspended in the air... like someone had caught his Suzy.
He felt that he is not alone.
After all that bullshit, he felt that he is not alone.
WHO AM i TO COMPLAIN?
To whine, to clinch fists with limp wrists and destroy my relationships... who am i?
i Am not alone.
i Am not alone.
i AM not alone.
i Gave Donald Martin all the money in my wallet. i Hope he makes it. i Hope i make it.
He said he looks at his pills each morning and wonders why bother? All his loved ones are on the other side.
But in the same light, he said, he feels like someone is there.
That he is not alone.
He told me the story of his run in with a psychic and how she depicted the death of his Sickle Celled wife almost to a tee... and how he saw his dog fall from a table but seemlingly be suspended in the air... like someone had caught his Suzy.
He felt that he is not alone.
After all that bullshit, he felt that he is not alone.
WHO AM i TO COMPLAIN?
To whine, to clinch fists with limp wrists and destroy my relationships... who am i?
i Am not alone.
i Am not alone.
i AM not alone.
i Gave Donald Martin all the money in my wallet. i Hope he makes it. i Hope i make it.
But damn do i miss her.
Let it be.
1 comment:
yr so weird
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