Just a Mundane Day
It was just a day like any other day.
Nothing special, just a day in mid-July at around 70 degrees. The sun was out, the skies were blue, and birds were perched high atop light poles shitting on the
cars below outside the hospital window. But unfortunately, this month wasn’t starting too well for
most folks. David Bowie had just retired from his Ziggy Stardust stage persona, and they just found out that President Nixon had secretly recorded incriminating conversations and Bruce Lee had died.
The world was just shit at that time;
you need to learn that right from the get-go. What the birds were doing to the cars below was reminiscent of the current events. Things just happen, and that’s how I came to be in a world that was shit and, thus far, hasn’t changed so much since then. They even stopped making metal Tonka
trucks, so it’s gotten a lot worse. What was wrong with lead paint anyway? It tasted great!!!
So there I was, bare-assed naked and
thrust into this world that I didn’t want to be in and still don’t at times. I try to enjoy some aspects of it, such as food, music, and videos. Who doesn’t like watching somebody fail when trying to do the simplest
things in life, like breathing and walking. Then you have the other failed ones
when they purposely do dumb shit. It is like karma giving you a nut shot like a curler knocking that stone out of the ring. POW, you deserved that
because you were trying to do something humans weren’t supposed to be doing.
But I digress into a ramble of tedious
pretext analogy. I’m sure my trip home was a dull experience, and most likely,
I’d have been bored to death in the car along the way. Kind of glad I don’t
remember any of this. On the other hand, as a young child, I recall being bored with car rides,
especially ones on the same routes. I mean, I’ve seen this shit already; take a detour into a lake or something. Spice it up a bit! Then perhaps I
would have had a ride in one of those badass Cadillac ambulances of the day.
The following months were just as dull. The only excitement in my life was a
trip to Disney World. I mean, that’s what I was told because I don’t remember
it. The trip was more for my mom, aunt, and uncle, who was about three years
older than me. So he probably doesn’t remember these action-packed trips as
well. A dull, uneventful childhood, which I should take as a good thing. I could
have been the Lindbergh baby or baby Jessica down the well. I remember
losing my Dukes of Hazard matchbox car down a small hole in somebody’s backyard
we were visiting once. Never got it back, though I was promised they’d dig it
up and get it.
Those were more so the childhood events as I grew up into my teens. Lost items, missed opportunities, and
arson. Such strangeness and yet utter boredom. Many toy cars are lost in various
ways and for various reasons. Sibling sabotage, parental punishment, nexus void to the
nether world, or just drove themselves off because I bored the shit out of
them. Who knows at this point? I did make some pretty badass race tracks for
them, and maybe they didn’t like the high-stakes competition.
I had these stages in my youth where
we had a little extra money and then when we were dirt-ass poor. At the highs,
I was able to amass some decent toys, or it was a dream, and I only gathered
false memories. I daydreamed all too much when I was younger. That’s how I
spend my days in school. Daydreaming about the awesomeness and what it was like
being stuck in a well. Like was damp, did the worms tickle your toes, and
when didn’t I have shoes on? And who took my damn Twinkies! I
obtained the ability to blackout all pleasantries and replace them with hollow bliss pictures.
This one time, when I was around
seven or eight, I saw a guy with no nose. I forgot the details of that day and
what we were doing. The friend was a girl, and the place was an
apartment complex in Patchogue or Lake Ronkonkoma (Fun fact, I was off one letter
on Pachogue on first spelling and didn’t miss a beat on Ronkonkoma, lol). I
think we were ding dong ditching, and we hit up his apartment, and as we were
running away, he hollered out. When I turned and looked, it was a white
Skeletor! No nose. Kind of freaked me out enough to remember it to this day.
As I rolled into my teens again in a dull existence, which embraced me like a wet towel. I can
still smell its musty dampness. I had already moved a lot and traveled Long
Island like a gypsy resembling a family in witness protection. However, in reality, we have just moved a lot. Maybe we were rent-skipping or even fleeing the Russian
spy network because it was the 80s, man! But as we rolled into the 90s, that was
all going to change for the better!
Comments
Post a Comment