Silly, silly World.

Christ Almighty, I went down to Unemployment yesterday.  It was a goddamn nut-house down there.

Let me just say that I have been on Unemployment for about 42 weeks now.  And it’s my job to have to report there, down to Jamaica, every 8 weeks or so to assure the good folk down there that I have been ACTIVELY SEEKING EMPLOYMENT.   But this last time…whew.  NUT-HOUSE.

I dunno if It’s because of THE HOLIDAYS or something, but this time was different.  Every other time I went down there, everybody was pretty civilized and normally-behaved.

But this time was 2 days after Christmas, and they were like rabid freaking dogs or something.  First of all, it was crowded as hell.  I had never before experienced this type of Unemployment Crowd.  There was like a total shortage of CHAIRS, even, for us Unemployed souls to sit their Unemployed asses in.  The Unemployment Helper Girl had to go in search of some, even.  And STILL there weren’t enough – some folk still STOOD…

Anyway, this little pasty woman at the front of the room was trying to give advice about getting jobs and shit, but everyone was being noisy and crazy… and I sat and watched while this little pasty broad just got tired and eventually stopped talking. 

As soon as she stopped talking, one woman up front piped:  “So are we DONE here?”

But then some young dude in the back of the room yells:  “ECKS-KEY-OOOOOOOOZ   MEEEE, MAY-UM.  But ‘zactly W’HUT is thuh qualifications of d’at last thang yooz said?”

And this of course throws the entire works into a tailspin.  The pasty broad starts scouring her notes.  The sickened, tired woman up front starts sucking her teeth and she ends up being the over-riding factor here as she groans:

“MUTHAH FUCKAH AH AHM GONNA SLAP THAT CHILE’ ‘CROSS THE HAYDE.   GO HOME, BOY.  LET US ALL GO THE FUCK H O ME …” 

This somehow unleashes a fury…

And before the pasty broad could answer, everyone just jumps up – nearly simultaneously – and floods the doorway, pushes out the door.  AVALANCHE.   Or whatever.

Unemployment. 

Everyone there was so fucking pissed about having to actually BE someplace for ONE HOUR out of ONE DAY in 8 WEEKS… 

Oh, well…

See yaZ in 8 weeks, kids…

Teen Nature Walk Gone Bad - Pt. 2

So yeah, we’re like 15, tripping on either THC or acid, running down Park Lane, trying to wasted-ly escape from our weird class trip of taking a lame Nature Walk.

The poor teacher was a sad-sack of a dude.   Honestly, I felt just terrible running away from him and his whole nature walk situation.    I remember glancing behind,  seeing his dejected expression as we departed.   He just seemed so resolved.   The look on his face said: “Women will always leave me.”   

So I did feel terrible.   I almost wanted to run back to just give him one last hug. 

Yet, run AWAY is what I did.  What we did.  It seemed the only feasible thing to do at the time. 

So me, Lee, Camille and (presumably) Disco Rosa end up at Forest Park. 

We’re wacked.  Now that we’ve escaped the field trip, we’re just sitting around on benches laffin’ and talkin’ semi-nonsense.   Lee was seeing a guy named Rock at the time, and somehow he ended up meeting us up there and strangely enough he brought balloons up with him.  He musta had a clue-in from Lee that we were planning some kinda stoner hi-jinx…

The water fountain was running at the basketball courts, so we started filling the balloons and we had a water balloon fight, all of us tripping (except for Rock…but who knows, maybe he was tripping independently of us…)  And I think some Miller Nips were also involved.  Suddenly we had a few of those Nips in the equation….

So then after a bit, we had to go take a whiz, of course.

Me and Lee and Camille head off to one of the lesser-traveled areas of the park.  We’re walkin’ there, laffin’ and stuff, and Lee’s leading the pack.  She heads in to this little dense area to whiz.   And suddenly, she comes charging out, yelling:  “OH SHIT – IT’S A NUDIST!”

And sure enough, there’s a totally naked-from-the-waist-down dude in there, on the little trail where she went in.  He has a wife-beater t-shirt on and sneakers, but other than that HE’S NAKED!  He's just swingin' in the breeze in the noon-day sun!

So me and Camille follow suit, yellin’: “It’s a NUDIST!  It’s a NUDIST!”

But then the dude just split, all naked, on his merry way.  And we all took a whiz and everything was fine.  Everybody was happy.

But from that day forward, I will always know that little area of Forest Park as “ITSA NUDIST”.  

I’m thinking of putting a plaque up.

And there ain't no Part 3. 

For now.

Teen Degenerate

One time we had a class trip.  It was during our first year of high school.  Me and Lee and Camille (and maybe Disco Rosa…?)  all decided to take either acid or THC.    We timed it.  We figured by the time it hit us, we’d be almost outta Home Room.

No dice.  We were way deep inta Home Room by the time the shit hit.   But we somehow handled it.  All the sudden, we’re being dispersed to our various TRIPS and we chicks all just look at each other like: “What The Hell…LET’S GO I GUESS!”

For some frickin reason we ended up being on a NATURE WALK.  What the hell!   We’re like fucked up out of our minds and now we hafta follow some nature walk guy…

Well, I have to admit that I’ve never been the type to adhere to procedure.

So we’re all fucked up out of our young minds, following the nature walk guy…and I just suddenly take it upon myself to SCREAM:

                “RUN!  FUCKIN’   RUN!  WE’RE OUTTA HERE, LET’S G O !”

And DAMNED  if 3 or 4 of my best buds don’t just haul ASS and just start running WITH ME… down Park Lane…down past the tennis courts…HAULING ASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.... Yeah, there's a Part 2...

               

Sometimes You Just Don't Know

I love a good story.  My husband has been known to regale me with a good one here and there.  Well, more than here and there.  He’s always got a good one stashed away, to whip out at the ready - bless his big-hearted, story-tellin’ soul.

Before we started dating each other, waaaay back in the day when we wuz a coupla  rambunctious, flirty band-mates, we were on our way home from our very first gig together.   

Chris had just joined the band, and my car was on the fritz, (and also he was really cute)  so I hitched a ride with him.  It was just us two,  toolin’ along in an old Chrysler New Yorker that he borrowed from his folks.   We were feeling really good, had just played a great show at a club called Nightingale’s on 2^nd Avenue in the East Village and we were just buzzing and on top of the world.

I remember looking at his profile as he drove, his easy smile and his thick black eyebrows.  And then for some reason, he just started telling me a story.

Chris use to work for Greenpeace.  Part of his job entailed driving a Greenpeace van.  Sometimes at the end of a working day, he’d “borrow” one of the cars or vans for the evening, drive it around  wherever, then eventually take it home to Queens and then bring it back to work in the city the next day.  Nobody was ever the wiser…

Chris:  “But one morning, coming back in to work, as I was driving it started overheating.  It lost power going up over the bridge – it was all uphill, so….I was on the B.Q.E. Overpass – the highest part just before the Kosciusko.  Way up in the air over factories and graveyards and maybe even some kind of canal…the Gowanus?   Whatever the fuck.  Whatever is under there is not good.  Not wholesome.  And then my car just stops dead.

“So I was sitting in the driver’s seat – kept trying to start the car back up.  When along comes this guy, just walking along on this narrow, 3-foot shoulder of sorta-walkway.  He comes walking up and stops at my car window.  He goes: “Hey, what happened to you?”

Now, keep in mind that no person should be walking along there on this suicide-walk where 18-wheelers are roaring by.  But then again, he was not your average Joe.  He was obviously mentally disabled.  But he wasn't afraid.  He was doing his thing, man.

SO anyhow, yeah - he goes: “Hey. what happened to you?”

And I say: “I don’t know.  What happened to YOU?”

And he thinks for like a second, and then he looks at me and goes: “I don’t know.”

And then he just starts walking again, truckin’ on down.  I sit there in my dead car, and I watch him walk away.”

* * * * * *

It may have been at that moment that I knew I’d spend the rest of my life with Chris, I don’t know.  But I knew I could definitely love anyone who would decide it was a good idea to tell me a story like that one.

 

Help

When you’re faced with uncertainty

You put your hopes on a date

Or in a basket

Or

Somewhere

You just put them.

 But then you realize

The only hope you have

Is to look in the face of

Love.

 And that’s all you do.

Just that.

That’s all.

* * * * * *