Loser Boy, Part I

Julia called me this morning, and even though I was asleep, I was grateful she woke me up. She had to drop off the baby to Loser Boy (her ex) at the Lawrence Park Shopping Center. I have the misfortune of being related to this idiot. Loser Boy is the moron who tried (key word - tried) to plant mice in two pizza shops in Upper Darby in an effort to drive these two shops out of business. Rather than bore my esteemed readers with an arrogant display of my time-displacement capabilities, or a diagrammed thesis on Loser Boy in the chronosphere - I have decided on something much more interesting and far less insulting - an exact replica of our solar system the day Loser Boy planted the mice in the two pizza shops. On that memorable day, (after having viewed the surveillance tape of the crime being committed in the first shop), it was disappointingly obvious that Loser Boy was of superior intellect and extraordinary ability ... or rather he "appeared" to be so ... After a long and tedious investigation on my behalf, and upon further observation (up close), I found that Loser Boy was mentally challenged. Hence, the look of awe and bewilderment on his face (and enough bags under his eyes to go shopping with) when Loser Boy was released the next morning. (He tried to turn back upon seeing all the reporters outside only to be told by his attorney "Nick, they are not going anywhere, you have to go out this way ...")

Everyone was in disbelief with the exception of me. I had predicted that Loser Boy would implode two weeks prior to his arrest. I was the only person who, after looking at the moon the night before the incident, had noticed that the moon was misaligned by a small amount - miniscule actually - .04 degrees.

Just kidding ... it had nothing to do with the moon. I really did warn the asshole that eventually he would get into trouble (after being summoned to his apartment by his mother). On that day (again memorable), I had to drop off the baby at the CVS parking lot. My uncle asked me "is this the baby's breakfast?" (his question was loaded with sarcasm). Of course, since I had not slept the night before, (Loser Boy spent the night slashing Julia's and Eleni's tires), I had to respond in kind to my uncle. I began to cry from utter exhaustion ...

So while his brother, Tommy, was in the hospital in a comatose state, Loser Boy was out joy-riding all week leading up to his arrest. What a way to support your brother in his time of need, ha! Poor Tommy (literally and figuratively speaking of course). He was laid up in the hospital for months after smoking and eating himself to near death. Near death ... in my opinion, Tommy appears to have a death wish (but more on Tommy and his trials and tribulations in another post). I'm having a hard time coming up with a title for that post ... Spontaneous Combustion? No, it wasn't spontaneous combustion. I mean he was smoking while hooked up to an oxygen tank when a great ball of fire exploded in his face. I can still remember the glistening tint on his face (pink and raw) when my sister, brother-in-law and I visited him a week after he suffered those third-degree burns. I knew his marriage was in trouble when his wife walked in the door with a look of disgust on her face. She was cordial and spent some time with us at the dinner table while we drank coffee, but everytime Tommy tried to explain to us what happened (he was in obvious pain), she would look at him with marked aversion. The odor in that house was unbelievable - the smell of garbage, body odor, open wounds, infected bodily fluids ...

A more suitable title for a post regarding Tommy would be "The Disgarded Son" - (Tommy always played second fiddle to Loser Boy - the chosen one - the golden boy). I love Tommy - he has a good heart, but he never had a chance. Not with a mother whose speech was full of vitriol. Tommy, in case you come across my blog (although it is unlikely you would type "whatever love wants" in any search engines), I want you to know that I love you. I understand why your life ended up the way it did - believe me.

Somehow I can't see Tommy performing a "whatever love wants" search. I can see him typing "what the #%$! does the bitch want" in the toolbar ... that I can see.

The Moon

Took a couple of advil to try to cure my headache, but they haven't kicked in. My brain hurts. My mind has sunk into a dizzying chaos as a result of my depression. The impact that it has on me is invisible to most people. I have to keep reminding myself "this too shall pass" ...

Made a cup of lavender tea and took a bubble bath, which helped me to relax. I don't know what it is about lavender but it really works wonders.

I'm listening to a beautiful song called 'The Moon's a Harsh Mistress' (sung by Joe Cocker).

The Moon's a Harsh Mistress, See her as she flies
Golden sails across the sky, Close enough to touch
But careful if you try, Though she looks as warm as gold
The moon's a harsh mistress, The moon can be so cold
Once the sun did shine, And lord it felt so fine
The moon a phantom rose, Through the mountains and the pine
And then the darkness fell, The moon's a harsh mistress
It's hard to love her well, I fell out of her eyes
I fell out of her heart, I fell down on my face, yes I did
And I tripped and I missed my star, And I fell and fell alone
The moon's a harsh mistress, The sky is made of stone
The moon's a harsh mistress, She's hard to call your own

I can feel the pain in his voice ...

Dark Night

I'm just part of a whole slew of people for whom simple existence is fraught with intense misery. I'm feeling down. I've been depressed for the past couple of weeks and I don't know what to do to get myself out of this state. Why am I so depressed?

Loss leads to grief, and grief causes me to feel numb. A terrible numbness ... Through that numbness there are a myriad of ways that past moments bleed through to the present. I will try to describe those moments with a sense of humor. Some of my comments will be highly exagerated for comic effect.

I feel as though I am being pushed and pulled at the same time. Can you relate? It's dark and it's cold. The weather matches my mood. It's depressing as hell outside.

"In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day." (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

Sometimes I wish I was a little kid again ... skinned knees are easier to fix. Unfortunately, this is one of those times where no one can kiss it and make it all better.

Technology's Grievances

Some 30 years ago, Wright Morris pinpointed the dilemma of technology: ''We're in the world of communications more and more, though we're in communication less and less." Among some of the grievances: the promiscuous use of the machine; the loss of the personal touch; the vanishing skills of the hand; the competitive edge rather than the cooperative center; the corporate credo as all-encompassing truth; the sound bite as instant wisdom; trivia as substance; and the denigration of language.

Ah ... George Orwell was way ahead of his time. I feel sorry for today's youth. What's happened to history, language and - most important (for me at least) - imagination? Most kids today are ignorant - they have no sense of history. Their attention is not on anything except their personal lives. Their attitude & outlook is shaped by the media. They don't realize that as a result of technology, one day they may become obsolete. Progress cannot be stopped, but at what price? It was the skills & intellect of average workers that kept the economy going for so many years. Now these same skills have been turned into binary numbers. It is such a joke! Maggie Kuhn was told she was redundant at sixty-five. She took to heart the lyrics of Kris Kristofferson: ''Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose'' ... but she is still at it. The service industry - walk into any fast-food joint, department store, chain pharmacy (there are very few mom & pop drugstores left) - chances are the majority of the workers are over the age of sixty-five. I mourn those who follow - the younger generation. I myself gave so much to the companies I worked for, too much. I have 18 years of experience yet my knowledge & skills are wasting away in the service industry. I am reminded of an old Twilight Zone episode "To Serve Man." The title is a play on the verb serve, which has a dual meaning of "to assist" and "to provide as a meal." Michael Chambers is seen lying uncomfortably on a cot. A voice implores him to eat. He refuses. He asks what time it is on Earth, and begins to tell the story of how he came to be here (aboard a spaceship) in flashback:

The Kanamits, a race of nine-foot-tall aliens, land on Earth. One of them addresses the United Nations, vowing that his race's motive in coming to Earth is solely to help us humanoids. The day arrives for Mr. Chambers's excursion to the Kanamits' planet. As he mounts the spaceship's boarding stairs, his staffer Patty appears. He waves, smiling, but she runs toward him in great agitation. "Mr. Chambers," Patty cries, "don't get on that ship! The rest of the book To Serve Man, it's ... it's a cookbook!" Chambers tries to run back down the spaceship's stairs, but a Kanamit wrestles him into the ship, and it immediately takes off for the aliens' home planet.

Mr. Chambers is once again seen aboard the Kanamit spaceship, now saying to the audience, "How about you? You still on Earth, or on the ship with me? Really doesn't make very much difference, because sooner or later, we'll all be on the menu ... all of us." The episode closes as he gives in and breaks his hunger strike; as Chambers tears at his food, Rod Serling provides a darkly humorous coda in voice-over, noting man's devolution from "dust to dessert" and from ruler of a planet to "an ingredient in someone's soup."

That episode made me bust a gut!

I'm a big fan of the Twilight Zone (yes, I have to admit, I look forward to the Twilight Zone Marathon every year on New Year's Day).