..and on being a ghost
the bastard has gone on before about his sighting of ghosts. ghosts from his past. things like that. but the plus side to these ghost sightings is that i am invisible to them. i'm older, balder. i dress differently. i walk differently, except of course when i'm drunk. then i just stagger. you can't alter that kind of crap.
SATURDAY 11:00 AM the boy and i were enjoying a little parklife on saturday when there was this older man with his nurse. at least i presumed it was his nurse. when i got a good look i realized that it was uncle tony. tony looked a little older. hell, he looked a lotta older but he still looked very much aware. so much so, that he spotted the bastard ot at least he spotted me though the boy or my voice or something. i used to date his niece a lifetime ago and he didn't like me. he didn't like me after the breakup either. there's really alot more to it than that, but i'm not really gonna share that bit with you, shiteyes. either way, he saw and he scowled and i knew i had been made. i briefly felt the urge to walk over and tell him to sleep soundly because karma is a boomerang and it has swung the bastard's way and karma had found him wanting because it hasn't been all roses for me and maybe if he remembered, he'd be happy, or sad, or i'd give him a goddam heart attack from remembering. then i thought of how i know that she married someone who took her out of wedlock child as one of his own and they had a few of their own and she's off somewhere in nassau county and i'm not even an occuring thought to her and her family and i thought, there's a reason why some jackass coined the phrase, "let sleeping dogs lie". sleep soundly old man, all will be revealed on the other side.
MONDAY 8:15 AM bastard gets off the train. last nights nap did me more good than i thought it would. i really have to read that manual to get my motorcycle permit. william gibson's virtual light is not going to get that bike on the road. anyway, i exit at 33rd and 7th and there was a camera crew setting up a shot. people were slowly moving and rubber necking and since the subject wasn't in my field of vision i moved from looky loo mode to tactical and i started the eastbound dodge when i passed this auburn haired girl and my burnt out memory clicked into "on" again. she needed to chop six inches off that hair and the auburn looked store bought. besides, she was a natural brunette when we dated 16 years ago. she obviously wasn't a regular here because everyone who is walking correctly is just another pylon to walk around for the bastard. but i dismissed and kept walking and then i thought, "was that her?" she had that thousand yard inconvenienced look that i remember and that locked jaw, like she was unhappy. she always looked unhappy. how can anyone be so unhappy for so long. oh well, soldier on shiteyes. these magazines don't make themselves.