Blackhumouristpress's Blog

April 17, 2020

Decide

Filed under: Detroit,humor,humour,Los Angeles,Short Story,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 1:31 am
Tags: , , , ,
 We had a gig the following night at Corktown Tap.  We sat out back
until it was time to go up and play.  The old Tiger’s stadium sits on
the other side of the wall like a cemetery.  Out in the distance like
a mirage is the Motor City Casino.  The lights dance around the
building like Las Vegas but it’s the only hotel on the strip.  The
gig was ok over all.  Not mobbed but a good showing.  Lowe went with
Lynn and I to Greektown to get something to eat.  He is a big time
stoner who is really an intelligent guy.  He analyzes everything and
discusses it like a philosopher.  Lynn giggles at the stuff he says
but he means it.
“How long should a person want to live?  Have you ever thought of
that?  You look at James Dean or Jimi Hendrix.  They went out before
they got old and fat.  People go to see bands they’ve loved their
whole lives and the fucking guys in the band are older than your
parents.  They look fat and sloppy like Jerry Garcia.  You get a guy
like Marlon Brando.  He was a good looking, fit guy in the 50’s and
most of the 60’s.  He buys and island and then promptly eats it.  Who
gets that fucking big?  We can go in the casino right now and ever fat
fuck with everything under the sun is wrong with them.  They got a
cigarette dangling from their lips while their eyes are glued to the
slot machine.  They’re gonna strike it rich, right?  They’ll finally
be happy, right?  They’ll go back to their shit hole house somewhere
between here and 8Mile…  So a 100 years ago, people worked fucking
hard until they died at 45.  We didn’t have so many people because
people worked hard and then got the fuck out of the way.  You wanna
live long enough to wind up in a nursing home?  Shit in your pants and
have some Filipino chick flip you ever few hours so your skin doesn’t
rot.  You just sit there and watch television and the next day you
can’t even remember what you watched but it’s good you did because it
gets your mind off the fact that maybe you shouldn’t be here.  Maybe
you been here too long.  We need a really good bomb or a really good
virus to clear this place out.  Weed out the weak.  Kind of like a
healthy brush fire so that things grow the way they should after…
Fuck.”
The waiter came up to us three times and Lowe hadn’t looked at the
menu yet.  He just kept talking.  The third time, he snapped at the
waiter to bring him a bold red wine from Greece.  Lowe moved on to the
thought of the act of deciding.  This thought came to me before too.
“You stop to think about this…  Someone pushes you to decide
something and life could go really well or really fucked up.  When
you’re a kid, you decide to do this or that and if your parents don’t
agree, you catch a smack…  I take that back…  In the old days you
would have caught a smack and today they have someone with a bachelor
of science try to understand and draw out of your kid why they did
something…  It’s all bullshit, right?  So you become an adult and then
suddenly you don’t have anyone to really stop you from bad decisions.
You buy shit you don’t need, you hook up with nasty tramps, you drink
too much and take shitty jobs.  One day you think you have really
found the one, right?  So you ask that person to marry you.
Everything is great for ten minutes and then you suddenly grow apart.
You find another person that really gets you and so you leave that
person for the new person and then things head towards the gulf coast.
You then have to decide- is this shit right for my life?  Do I want to
spread my seed like a Jamaican and split my check five different ways
because I made poor selections, options, choices… Ready? Yes, poor
fucking decisions.  Here’s one for you.  My mom had a boyfriend when I
was thirteen.  She moved him in and he promptly told me that
everything I liked and was into sucked.  I hated the fucker.  At 16, I
decided that I could no longer go on.  I held a proverbial gun to my
mom’s head and told her to decide on keeping the fuck or I was moving
out. She decided to keep him- I moved out.  I went to live with poor
people and then my family in Detroit told me to leave beautiful
Southern California for Detroit.  I had to make a choice.  I chose
Detroit.  I’ve been here ever since.  What if I had stayed?  Would I
have remained in LA?  What would I have done?  Who might I have
married?  Big fucking fork in the road.  The idea of deciding is a big
fucking deal and we take it lightly…  If this shit doesn’t work out,
I’ll decide to do something else, right?  I mean…  I’ve got all the
time in the world.  I’m probably going to live forever, right?”
The waiter returned.  Lowe slammed the menu down and ordered the
waiter to bring him a gyros with extra sauce and extra onions.  As the
waiter was getting ready to walk away, he asked him a question.
“Hey buddy…  Were you born in Greece?”
“Yes…”
“Why did you come here?”
“I thought it might be better…”
“Detroit?!”
“Sure… Why?”
“Have you ever thought of what your life might be like if you had
decided to stay in Greece?”
“Sure…  I would have had to marry a woman named Toula and I would
have had too many kids and probably retire at 50.  I would never have
met you nice people tonight…  I’m glad I came here.”
Lowe slapped his back and we moved on.  We talked about soccer since
he was fixated by Italian soccer.  We dropped him off and got home and
crashed.  The ride back to Chicago took forever.  We stopped at
wineries and stopped at the beach near New Buffalo.  We both made the
decision to go slow so that we would have more time together.

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