Friday, December 09, 2005
Didn't I see you nailed to a stick?
I walked to the Burnside Bridge to make my offerings. I stared at the half moon over the Willamette when I tripped over a man passed out on the sidewalk. I almost fell on my face but caught myself on the concrete railing.
"HO!"...I shouted out. After I got my balance back, the man moaned and started moving.
"You OK, Brother?" I asked.
The man's looked at me, and wouldn't you know it, it was Jesus.
"Fuck! Dude!"
I pulled Jesus to his feet, flung his arm across my shoulder and walked him out to my offering place. He wobbled at the railing as I made my offerings to our sister.
"Fuck, Dude!" I stated again as I feared he would go over the rail...for what it's worth.
I flung his arm over my shoulder again and we walked to Taco Del Mar.
"Want something to eat?" I asked him.
"No thanks," he moaned.
I got my food and we went to KBOO to talk at the table in the back.
"What the fuck, Jesus?" I asked after finishing my burrito.
"I just can't take it, man. It's too much for me."
"You need my help, man?" I asked.
"I'll be fine."
"You need a few bucks?"
"Dude, I'm Jesus. I'll just go beg for money in the street, get myself another bottle."
"What's so hard to handle, son?"
"The fucking people. The killing. The responsibility to try to fix it against such overwhelming odds. Nobody listens. Nobody cares. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore. Hide in a bottle."
"You should stick to pot, grandpa. It's better for you. Won't kill ya."
"What the fuck does it matter if I die? No one listens anyway."
"Well, you've been there and remember. But what's the use of drinking yourself to death. Isn't someone supposed to nail you to a piece of wood or something?"
Jesus' body heaved, he stood up, and ran down the hallway. He barely made it to the restroom and his world revolved around a vomitous mass of internal booze and dry heaves.
When he came out of the bathroom, his eyes were bloodshot and he looked so worn. I couldn't stop him as he headed out of the door. I followed, but when I got out the door, he was gone.
I guess nailing the man to stick wasn't an option this go round.
"HO!"...I shouted out. After I got my balance back, the man moaned and started moving.
"You OK, Brother?" I asked.
The man's looked at me, and wouldn't you know it, it was Jesus.
"Fuck! Dude!"
I pulled Jesus to his feet, flung his arm across my shoulder and walked him out to my offering place. He wobbled at the railing as I made my offerings to our sister.
"Fuck, Dude!" I stated again as I feared he would go over the rail...for what it's worth.
I flung his arm over my shoulder again and we walked to Taco Del Mar.
"Want something to eat?" I asked him.
"No thanks," he moaned.
I got my food and we went to KBOO to talk at the table in the back.
"What the fuck, Jesus?" I asked after finishing my burrito.
"I just can't take it, man. It's too much for me."
"You need my help, man?" I asked.
"I'll be fine."
"You need a few bucks?"
"Dude, I'm Jesus. I'll just go beg for money in the street, get myself another bottle."
"What's so hard to handle, son?"
"The fucking people. The killing. The responsibility to try to fix it against such overwhelming odds. Nobody listens. Nobody cares. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore. Hide in a bottle."
"You should stick to pot, grandpa. It's better for you. Won't kill ya."
"What the fuck does it matter if I die? No one listens anyway."
"Well, you've been there and remember. But what's the use of drinking yourself to death. Isn't someone supposed to nail you to a piece of wood or something?"
Jesus' body heaved, he stood up, and ran down the hallway. He barely made it to the restroom and his world revolved around a vomitous mass of internal booze and dry heaves.
When he came out of the bathroom, his eyes were bloodshot and he looked so worn. I couldn't stop him as he headed out of the door. I followed, but when I got out the door, he was gone.
I guess nailing the man to stick wasn't an option this go round.
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