Monday, March 17, 2008

Parcheesi House

Wheel.

That was 48 hours of unpleasant suspense. Calling on The Comforter's peace two couch-nights, 3 a.m. I had the idea of making a tactical retreat to Iowa but friends ---who could think clearly, after all---knew that would be foolish. Make yourself not depressed but forlorn maybe.

It's hard to see at first, the simple tasks as simple. Call another Oxford, get another home quick. That actually seemed impossible, Saturday morning. "And by my reckoning, you'll need $300." Now call.

And so I have an interview the very next day at Parcheesi House. And it's a beautiful home, almost like a mansion, brand new, friendly , clean, RICH.

It turns out that for the last two years I've been living in a slum-Oxford.

It's like the difference if your dad is a shoe-salesman or a V.P. at HBO. These two houses. They voted me in, and now it's like my folks are rich. Who knew? ?!?!? Everyone but me. And apparently those other dumb arses at the shoe salesman's house, where they even pay more rent. You're noah arcing me! No, no I'm not.

I will move in asap this week. The suspense is over, as I say, but I'm still imposing on friends. They're great though. My gosh, at Zigfields I can choose from six bunk beds. House of show business people. Roller Derby Queen in charge there, who means business.

People think I make sh)t up. I'm not, are I, R.M.M. (She took a spill on the track last night, hope she got some ice on that hip).

And then here at the Good Night Nurse's and her 14 year old son's. It's where I left my sandwich, is why I'm here now. I have this sandwich, see, that...well, never mind. It goes with me usually. Someday I may have to call a cab for it.

Faith. Once in awhile I remember that two months ago I almost scored a salaried job. Work is no longer something that just crosses my mind of course.

I quote the poet, J-JM, again. "If you do nothing, somethings going to happen , man." That's from his early work, when he was only 20 years old. "Nature takes over. Behold the abandoned Chevy in the weeds," he continued.

More later, thanks for visiting.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Chapter 4 I'm evicted

chpt 1: Third floor (5 days)
chpt 2: long term treatment (four months)
chpt 3: Oxford House (28 months)

dashing this off in numb denial and even shock...I've been democratically evicted from the Oxford House tonight.

After being drawn into a whirl-a-gig of politics, and an amazing meeting that had four outside witnesses, two of whom bought into the shared, foggy misapprehensions and rumors I was not allowed to correct ("You're hijacking the meeting" someone said when I tried to defend myself against a hundred charges from the tramp-steamer, from over almost 2.5 years. ) I refused to admit to specific charges simply because they were untrue...but they all took this in the abstract, that I was refusing to acknowlege my "role" in anything that has happened.

Some wanted me to be shown mercy but said after I denied "everything" (such specific charges, creating such a terrible impression of me before strangers) they knew I wasn't 'truly in recovery'.

I could only use the Mugger/mugged analogy. Chunk invaded my room, kept me cornered, and threatened me. But why, John? Why? Tell us your part.

Steamer went so far as to say I am of no value to this house. (me, the treasurer, Chapter secretary, chauffer...) Other people being late on rent was irrelevant.

Our standard house policies about late rent were this night declared null and void.

It was as I say jaw dropping and when the vote was cast people were ashen faced.

To sum up: I don't pay my rent (I am a month late, two weeks shy of the 'legal limit' and I told them I would pay Monday); I don't do my chores (twice in two years I forgot, and I promptly paid 40 bucks in fines but never mind), and I am not "living in recovery" though I go to more than seven meetings a week on average and am well respected at the club.

G.N.N. is aghast, (Chunk wasn't sanctioned or charged with anything at all). Only before her am I feeling ashamed, and that's for being reckless.

I wasn't going to call a meeting after he invaded my room. It was a surprise any meeting was called at all.

They said , though, that I'd simply been plotting to have an innocent person kicked out. And that I'd tried to do this before (true, except they weren't innocent, they were disruptive, angry, aggresive people).

I think I'll be up all night here (i have til tomorrow to leave with personal effects, til Sunday to move my stuff into the storage room here). I may quietly go over to my Good Night Nurse's at 3 a.m. to sleep on the couch, but only because I can't sit still now after I've packed.

As a drama KING, mind you, part of me is elated. IN reality, I am having ten minute contractions of fear. My mother, how will I keep her from knowing before i land on my feet, how will i land on my feet without her help?

I should have said what they wanted to hear: that I was guilty and remorseful. I didn't and that's this. When they asked what "solution" I could bring to this house problem, I should have recited back to them exactly what I'm doing: pay my rent, and get Chunk back in prison before he kills someone.
___
Now I will apply to another Oxford House and hopefully my new reputation, slandered so tonight, won't proceed me.

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Mr. Fraught-Hazard



Henry Hazard coasting these mean--- but presently empty--- commuter streets. List of errands to run. "Don't forget to stop at the Junior High School." Like that could possibly skip my mind. Don't forget you need to identify that body at the morgue either. They think it might be you.

If I were a parent this might be fun, I could go in there with some guff.

These oak trees and telephone poles won't give way, you know. They can stop you at 60 mph. 60 to zero and you're dead. So watch the road even if you are on an inevitable rail. My life of taut springs about to go BOING! And not two months ago, my teeth unclenched, I'd found my way in life in climate controlled isolation, living history via old time radio, 100 episodes of Information, Please, the most calming, civilized program you ever soaked in. And I lived in the vaults and deepest mazes of YouTube, catching up on all the TV I missed when I was in gestation. And movies before my parents were born too. The life. That was the life then, this is the life now. I'm not complaining except for a moment here.

Pale mid-afternoon of early March, when the evil looking yellow and black school buses roll and cross your X at confusing intersections. Can't shake this feeling I'm truant, never could this time of day, or this time of year.
___
There's a good pot-hole on Ash, which jars my car just right to turn the faulty heater back on. Pneumonia weather here. Maybe that's what my young charge has, why he's missed school. Worry, fret. If I should turn back. Winter started early and is ending late, no end in sight at all.

Doesn't the earth have to come to a full stop, to reverse itself and turn the northern hemisphere back towards the sun? I would think so. But why don't we all fall down then?
______
Hazard rolling past the strip malls, lousy with minimum wage jobs. Even a temp agency store- front there, God. Help me a little more. And people tell me I'm a worry wart. My psychiatrist puts me on hold, saying she's transfering me to Jesus.

Sure I'm living the good life now but everything's hanging by a thread. Clocks going triki tiki. There's a small mammal gnawing on my safety rope, triki tiki tavi with razor sharp teeth, by gym.

And my brain's pre-historic man is pushing the panic button continuously, like it's a door-bell and the modern man in me would open the door to him. For his safety, like the rest of my interior is a Blue Star Home..

Good Night Nurse... who tells me I have to be at the Junior High school pronto please to pick up the scion's homework, thank you.

West now. But walking into a junior high school, what if the emo-memories flood tide. I'll be risking catatonia And then it's not the third floor for me it's the sixth or seventh floor where they tie you down after a walloping dose of Haldol.

They made a mistake, when I was 20, moving a dead woman's get-well flowers and balloons all around my bedside while I was comatose. They said there was no where else to put them. I woke up in this strange room which was like a white cloud and thought, holy mackerel, they've wheeled my bed into the Goodbye Forever room.

Hazard nearly misses the pot hole, and veers just in time to hit it just right.

Ka
-BUMP, front wheel, back wheel, Ka-BUMP, and the heater turns on. No other pot hole in town does that. It's a tricky short in the wires.
___
The young scholar told me don't worry, all the kids were gone by now. So, no hooting 'neds, no shin-kickers then.

Park here in at the recreation center next door, as close to the bus concourse and the side door as I can get.

Hazard makes a wiper blade of his thumb and index finger and squee-geez the sweat from his brow up into his hair.

"Go to the office, it's right in the front door and ..." said the Good Night Nurse. But I stopped her and said no. No, I want to experience this, I want to test my discombob.

Brave man, she sighed. You are so brave, Hazard.

"I'm Psychedelic. All Psychedelics are brave, we've seen it all. Just have to find my keys."

Looking from his car window at the brown mossy moat to the gate of this gated school. Wide open. Then lighting a cigarette.

I must have just had one, this tastes like I just had one. Put it out. And the chill winter wind will push the tobacco cloud away from me by the time I reach that door.

She said the front door but this side door will open to the same hallways.
___
Ah.

Oh.

Hazard steps upon a thin white gym mat in the gym. So, this is the gym, then. Look up. And it's in session, I see. It's a small gym. Crowded.

20 boys and girls in their appropriate gym clothes, turn to see. The instructor, around the corner on a beam, stops silent.

I see another set of double doors on the other side, inviting me. I smile. I wink. I nod hello as I pass though the hobbledehoy, pardon me, excuse me, pardon me. Noticing half way that they are all in their stocking feet. I could look back and see if I'm tracking in mud and then turn around just before the half way point and step in my own prints and not make this worse. But, nah. That would take time and effort and might even strike them as comical.

And these double doors I approach now, will they be locked for any reason? This is the age of penitentiary architecture. I may have to make this trip back in defeat after all.

Reach out, fully expecting the door not to yield.

It opens! Good-bye, kids. Remember you're my future.
___
This is a wide hallway, with benches along the wall between the trophy cases. I see a little bookworm here, engrossed in her Social Studies text book. Stop.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where the office is?"

Silence. She doesn't even look up.

Missy?

It's happening again. I can't believe it. These girls won't even give you the time of day, nothing has changed at all in 30 years.

Then Hazard notes the perfectly fitting black discs in her ears, with wires to an mp3 player. Oh. She's already multi-tasking and she's deaf. That's different.

Continue down the long, soul-sucking hallway with its outrageous gravity. Looking for signs, "Office >>>>" like the kids don't know where the office is. But of course I can't get lost. That's something I said to the Good Night Nurse on the phone, just before leaving. It's good to keep in mind that we have our feet on the ground and our legs move. Good to keep in mind that we are always in some sense "home". Planet Earth with it's fourty explosions every half-second somewhere, haha.

I come upon a ticket window where a woman sits, but there is a sign, "Visitors Enter Office Door>>>>>". It's a discombob! I can handle it.

Three grown-ups there, younger than Hazard, laughing it up about last night's bar-hopping. Hey, I'm standing here already. I got my dumb-lost look, I came in this visitors door. I want to be called "sir".

"May I help you, sir?" the receptionist asks past the two excited school teachers, who turn to behold and fall silent.

"I'm Henry Fraught, here to pick up home-work for Nickatechna Psekovich Kominski."

I'm handed a thick folder. What is this, a year's worth? Has my charge been over-charged? But I've started arguments in places like this before, and lost half the time.

We had a teacher who spent math class time telling us about his World War ll experiences, and spent history class making us read from a dull text book. When I told him I heard he was in World War ll he flipped out and marched me to the office, accusing me of trying to divert his and the classes attention from our History studies.

Then get out. At the door a teacher was just coming in and I stepped back. He stepped back too and rather peevishly urged me to come through. Me first, right.

Hazard back home inside his car, lighting another cigarette. Glad I went through with this, the boy seemed slightly doubtful. But I am Henry Hazard The Psychedelic who's seen it all and never flinched until his early 30's.

Monday, March 03, 2008

Guest Hosts Bob And Ray



Bob and Ray sell "The only complete burglar kit being offered today."

Direct to YouTube. 10.3 laughs in 2.5 minutes.