Have had so much to post about recently, but so little enthusiasm for doing anything. Have cars to fix, flat to tidy, relationships to work on. Building bridges with my daughters Mum.
All this takes a back seat.
It all takes a back seat to life.
Not being able to sleep on Monday night, was out walking aimlessly around the neighbourhood about 3am when there is shouts and screams from a window. Sounds as if a girl has found some rather kinky use for a vacuum cleaner, or similar. I notice some houses across the street turning lights on, and some others opening doors and sticking heads out.
The young lady making all this noise starts screaming things such as ;
I got a squirrel and rammed it up John Keys arsehole so hard he invoked the GSCB
Why am I locked in here you wankers, when I have had my tubes tied?
Ring the cops, you’ll see, I’m not mad, you are. I may be insane, but you’re the mad ones
Etc. Etc. Etc.
She had all the windows wide open, her door wide open, the lights on, the curtains fully pulled back and was introducing the quiet side of the neighbourhood to the reality of her life, as she saw it.
Admittedly, “Reality of her life” being ambiguous in terminology.
There were many, many (upon many of many) onlookers to this situation. Even for this housing block, this was one for the video phones and straight people to hide their children from. Hell, I ain’t even that straight, and I would have hid my kid from it. Jeezus, would I what.
Amongst all this carry on, I turned back towards her and down the street, crossing the road in full view, making a bee-line for her second floor window.
Mutherfuckers can all suck my feet, you hear me mutherfuckers?
(quietly, almost talking volume) Hey – what are you doing out walking mindlessly?
- Me – interrupting
“mindlessly, how dare you….. that would presume I am not of right mind, which would en tale being of left mind. What do you have against me using my left mind?”
Aimlessly? I mean aimlessly…
- Aimless? You want to call me aimless now?……
You look like you could be company, come up for a tea.
- Give me a minute to put my face on. No more shouting until I get there though. Okay (puts finger to lips and shhhh’s)?
Will put jug on…
Twenty or thirty windows close, a few doors shut, you can hear people putting their phones down and returning to slumber.
So, 4am Tuesday morning I am spending two or three hours with a young lady whom is wearing an ankle bracelet, cannot leave house due to being on electronic bail, and her friends are all in town partying. She has drunk all the beer, swallowed all the pills and is still awake. Thankfully for her, she has found a stash of builders glue and is abusing solvents like her life depends on it.
Me, being me, is quite good in these circumstances. Not brilliant, but not bad.
I am not going to ring the police.
I am not going to prevent her from using.
Someone hell bent on their own destruction is someone with a strong will.
Taking on that will would lead to noise complaints.
What I did do was catch her when she fell. Propped her up when crashing. Talked her down from dis-pear. Talked her up from feeling as if she was god.
We sat close staring at each other. Every time she had momentary lapse of concentration I would quickly stand up and “hide” some of the glue by throwing it out the window. Would then close the door an inch or two each time so she would not notice the door shut all of a sudden and feel trapped. She could yell fucken loud this girl. If she thought she was trapped, the neighbours would be woken again. And police would swarm.
She had moments of superb thought and clarity…
Hey, wow… fuck, fuck fuck……
You are… Rehearsed. Oh my god, you’re rehearsed.
Uhm, damn. Almost caught me out there. She would try and shock. Try to get emotional responses from me. But she would remember my eyes always making contact, always being calm, somewhat in control, slowing her down… One day she may remember she had more solvents in the house that magically dissipated too. Hahahahah.
The look on her face after some large chugs of glue… O-M-F’ing-G. That look was becoming to be oh-so-f’ing-attractive.
O-BLIV-E-ON. Oblivion. Fucken A. Let me at it. I want what she’s having. Only make it permanent.
See, I can relate. I can empathise. I can identify.
John Savage would probably try and teach me ethics or boundaries or something equally as pompous. I would teach John Savage to mind his own butt hole and put me on the Queens Honour Lists ahead of John Kirwin. I would teach John harm reduction has no boundaries. John would find this impossible to compute in his ever so right brain.
I left her as dawn rushed up to hit her on the head with a rather large solvent abuse headache.
I left with a bunch of people probably thinking the worst.
I left not giving a flying fuck what anyone thought…
I left proud of the idiot I am.
We are all back seat drivers in our own life.
Pity I am not even in the right car.