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Level 7 - Loquacious
Join Date: Aug 2004
Location: Jersey
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My Crush
We've been phoning my superiors with lame excuses for a month now. Down at the office on Friday. First time in ages. Cameo appearance, no Oscar: Hi. I'll be okay. Under the weather. That cold I've had the last three years? Rhinovirus from hell. Can't seem to kick it
Sick. So very sick. Something even sicker? One shot, one lousy shot with you would set me straight. Okay, six hours later, I'd need another. Then another. Then another. But in your time, six hours is a lifetime.
I reminisce of those fantasy teenage dreams, innocently establishing reandevous with you in the bathroom during 7th period; chasing girls and mentally fist-fucking every aspect of authority. Endless nights and nodded out days. Bouts of confidence, intrigue and danger swelled my senses as my immature, 17 year old frame sought you up and down Northern Jersey and NYC. A life of urban mystique and chic was one I had vowed to claim very early on; a vow molded and persuaded by your delicate allure. A thin slice of suburban white wonderbread desensitized to theft, violence and gun-play. But before long, those episodes of my early years came to seem a closed chapter, just fodder for war stories to share with a select circle of friends. Which is not to say you left me with a life of Baptist abstinence. But days, even weeks would pass without even a psychological murmur; I thought we had finally had our farewell.
You once again found me accepting invitations just to gain entry to unexplored bathrooms and bedrooms. Looking for suitable, but more importantly sufficient, prospects coming from your very own toxic bloodline. Obsession roaring back larger than life, I am shameless, pathetic, helpless, hopeless, ridiculous--ransacking bathrooms left and right, boosting stores and bystanders, defying confrontation and damning any consequences. Eventually, you took to rapping on my door with more and more insistence. When foolishly I answered your knock, that surly chimp I once knew you as charged back into my life transformed into a raging gorilla.
Fast forward, do you remember the post-collegiate days....Hasn't even been a sign of you, but I have been getting by with the aid of memories so seemingly tangible that their true translucency is all but hallucination; resulting in quarter-sized back stains and lifeless 24 year-old corpses; walking and talking! After much dancing around the burning bush and D.I.Y. detoxes, we both learn that a white-collar acquaintance has been riding the horse in between corporate escapades due to frequent trips to 123rd street. Recalling the relief you once gave a tortured teenage basket case, I'm ready to let go of the steering wheel. I'm ready for the crush. Having walked away relatively unscathed from a teenage relationship, I think I know all there is to know about you. But, I was about to take the graduate course.
Acutely speaking, you can be very much a facilitator in every preliminary aspect imaginable. Shit baby, we both know I worked hard my first few months back in your saddle. I even win several prizes of praise amongst colleagues, albeit monotonouos ones they forever hand to one another in the ceaseless circle jerk of corporate self-congratulation.
What a bizarre double life we both led: Some days spent desperately searching for you up in Spanish Harlem, wading through the crack vials that litter 124th and Lex like pebbles on a beach in hell. But the bitter-sweet reunions were always accomplished leaving me feeling like a pathetic protagonist from a modern day Roman Polanski piece. Heading back on the PATH to Jersey City, I don a suit to brief a prospective client. Here I am, compulsively introducing boy to girl with a roach-infested gallery on Avenue C serving as the moonlit, romantic backdrop. The next afternoon, I'm gassing away on a panel discussion at one my companies strait-laced think tanks. This is skating on thin ice, indeed. And, on occasion, the brittle membrane dividing my double life threatens to shatter.
Remember Adam's funeral? And Jackie's, and Sean's. There were even more, but of course you do! you were the talk of the whole congregration. Mourners periodically slinging sarcastic slews of your power and dominating characteristics. Although, never admitting you were in fact the homicidal factor in all of their deaths, no you were only considered a toxic mishap which only "contributed". But we both know the truth.....
I'm supposed to be bidding you farwell, but I know we are lifelong partners. Although, hopefully only manifested through dreams and memory; I'll always rememer you.....
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