Posted by James K on February 17, 2006, at 1:37:50
In thinking about the government leader who shot one of his aquaintences a couple of days ago, I am reminded of something that happened with me last year.
It was the wedding reception of my best friend and his wife. It was on a separate weekend from the wedding itself, maybe because they knew what they were in for, also because they got married in the Rothko Chapel, one of the most beautiful and peaceful indoor places I've ever been.
So the party was at the art gallery where my buddy shows, and I spent all day in the hot Texas sun loading tequila, water, kegs, mixes and whatever we had picked up at the liquour store. After nearly having a heart attack in the heat, because I carried all of the folding chairs down from the balfrey, and I carried all the supplies in from the van, and I am an aging alcoholic, chronic fatigue syndrome, unemployed piece of sh*t who would die for my picked family, I went home and grabbed a nap.
A few hours later I showed up with wife and r&b mix tape for the outside jam box (mine) that we had spent the night before wiring and lighting the gallery with Mexican Christmas lights.
Break to the night before -- Her heroin addict brother and her parents showed that night, and I flat out had to tell them "give me one of those, I've been working all night." And we wired the inside of the gallery for inside sound.
The big night, I put on my leather shoes, and my best clothes that I had. We drank and talked, and I bounced a rich mf'er who tried to light firecrackers on the rented table cloths. And my best friend got out his knife and started aiming at peoples feet. I told his wife, "You take care of the fights and drunks outside, I'll keep an eye on him." So when he started putting his blade into the floor near his old boss's achillles, I subltely moved that guy out of the room, and kept giving him his knife back. So he threw knives at me and this other guy. Unfortunately, my good leather shoes were 10 years old and had been saddle soaped and polished to a fine thin sheen. so when the buck knife hit my feet, I thought it was bouncing off, but it was penetrating.
Finally, it stuck right in, and I pulled it out, and blood squirted straight up. All of us inside had an instant moment of clarity. My shoe was full. I laid on the floor, and they put my leg up on one of the chairs. His and her grandparents and parents were long gone. I'm laying there in a puddle, laughing my *ss off.
His recent wife comes in from clearing up outside (including the wine bottles we corked so drank from the broken neck), to see me like this.
So here is were personal responsibility comes in. I took full responsibility. I said no big deal, I'm so sorry, I'm fine, He didn't know, I should have told him it was sticking into me. All I cared about was her special day with a terrible ending. I used her cell phone to call my wife (she'd had the good sense to leave at 2:am) and made one of those calls "Hey everything is fine, could you maybe come back and bring a lot of that guaze and tape?"So my wife got me home with much mess, and put butterflys on the four deep cuts on my left foot. And she went back the next day and helped them clean the gallery and mopped up all the blood, and when I put on socks, I get tingles all over my foot.
I love my best friend. I love his wife. I love my wife. He beat a new wreck in the side of one of his work vans the next day. We (I) did the best we could, and we made the best of a horrible situation. And we worked it out later the best we could over sushi and saki, then I went into a mental hospital.
I contrast this with some old dude blowing a gun into the face of an aquaintance, and I don't relate at all.
James K
poster:James K
thread:610516
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/poli/20060204/msgs/610516.html