(Though maybe, before you go, you'd like to fill us in on what happened between drinking in the theater and waking up in jail. Y'know... if you want to.)
so yeah, i dunno, ive been very into this unhealthy lifestyle of drugs and drinking and living out of an always packed backback and just overall irresponsibility that ive been getting away with for far too long now.. Friday was a long day at work followed by cocaine and vodka til the wee hours of Saturday morning, which brought another full day of work ending around 8pm..
i get off work, feeling a little haggard but good all and all, and best of all: The Master is now playing everywhere! including the AMC theatre within walking distance! "Ah yes, this is what i need to relax and re-coup... and i might as well get drunk
!" so i head over to the corner store and get 2 steel reserves.. with the 2 tallboys in my bag, i catch the 10pm showing and get drinking..
It's beautiful. It's so beautiful im just beaming with pride for PT and pride as a film lover in general.. and ive got my buzz good and going. About an hour in, i realize im all out beer AND that theres an 11pm showing in one of the screening rooms a floor below that i could sneak into and see the first half all over again! "YES! You are one smart sonuvabitch John Michael
!" I pass the usher, "oh, i just gotta get my insulin, here's my stub, ill be right back
i bumble down back to the store, oh yeah, and i almost always have weed on me, so i smoke a bowl and get 2 more tallboys, pass the usher, "Hey thankth man *hiccup
*" (not quite, but i know i was pretty buzzed), and pop into The Master! take two!
this time i get reeeally comfy... shoes off, backpack open for easy access to notebook (the one with 2years of notes in it, my bible), jacket off, belt off, front row.. im king of the castle and its still all such an amazing view on display..
things from here get hazy..
i definitely popped the 3rd can open
i remember up until the "Do you want to fuck?
i remember waking up starting at Freddie waking up thinking "That's me"
and the rest is just flashes...
i remember the handcuffs hurting
i remember thinking (i hate this, but im being honest here) "Uh-oh, theres alot of homeless black guys in this room"
voice over: 2 cops talking
"Alright buddy, you been asleep long enough..."
"Come on, that's right, time to get up..."
"mmmmm...hmm? huh? what is this?" im still pretty drunk, waking up face down on the cold cement floor of a jail. "whats.."
the door slams shut and the 2 officers leave with my own realizations.. "oh my god, im in jail. what the fuck. what time is it? i have work at noon.. where are my shoes? are my pants wet? wheres my bag? OWW, my fucking hand!" My hand is crooked and bruised purple-blue with the two middle knuckles gone
They leave me in there for about 10 minutes before returning.. "okay, come on."
i follow them to a desk.
"You know why your here?""i think im.. i think i got drunk.. "
"Yes, that's right. Place your thumb here" they take my prints. "Sign here" i sign..."Okay, lemme get your things..."
They pop my shoes on the counter, then my bag.. my consciousness kicks in, "Oh god my bible!" i scramble through my bag finding every item in there (amazingly. i lose things sober all the time. big things like shopping bags and radios) everything is in there but my book.. my heart drops.
"Oh and here's this, you said its very special."
It's my book! My bible! i cannot fucking believe it, nothing is gone, its all here!
"Okay, youre free to leave, we dont want you back so be smart from now on.. you had
a clean record.""Thankyou officer..."
and i start to walk out before asking, "Did i get arrested at the theatre
"You were picked up on Gough near Market." ...nowhere ever near the theatre. Where was i going? what happend? Ive since decide im better off not knowing....
i think i was still pretty tipsy, but i definitely, to which i still cant explain, was not hungover... and i felt great in fact, ecstatic even, alive! i realize i how awful, how completely fucking terrible everything could have ended up.. i could have walked into traffic. i could have gotten beat, stabbed, shot or killed. I could have gone into a state of mimicry and gone all "Freddie" leaving the cops with no choice but to mace me or taze me.. but other then my swollen crooked hand, which at this point im still not acknowledging like i should, everything is fine, and i lost nothing... it doesnt make sense other than i had been given a second chance.
i go to the nearest cafe, a hipster cafe/laundrymat/performance space called "Brainwash" and get the biggest coffee and the biggest glass of water.. chugg'em.. and walk out just before spewing it all back up into the nearest outdoor planter.. i use my hand to brace myself, "OW! oh yeah"
without thought or hesitation, i make a fist and, what feels like all bones in my hand, shift and pop back into place "FFFFFFK!"
i open my hand again... Nothing! it's fine! swollen, yeah. a crazy color, yeah.. but not broken! And the knuckles are back! i compose and realize i have an hour left before work...
like i said, it's not uncommon for me to pass out, so i always have a change of clothes at work. i get to work early, use the shower, and put on the fresh clothes. I look in the mirror: "It's time to grow-up."
the day went by fine, good even! i slowly sobered up, never
got hungover which is still so crazy to me, and only got minimal questions about my purple/blue hand. "Oh, a fight. Im okay."
but the whole day, it's clear to me: you will never get this lucky again... dont even chance it. It's time to start your life.
And so here i am. i given up drinking, drugs, and living out of a bag, and it's now so clear and so obvious how ive been completely avoiding my calling.. What am i waiting for? It's here and now, and i just gotta do it.