Leave It To The Angels

Stephanie pours me another drink.

We sat in Smith's laughing having a great time. Be we always do. Smith's is like a tremendous reunion for us all. The Managers, the Owners all know us, the wait staff and the busboys, all know us. It's one hug, handshake and kiss after the other there. So it becomes more of a reunion of us...us meaning Big A, KC, Betty, myself and OBSIDIAN...it becomes a reunion of the entire establishment. Even some of the patrons still going there remember us.

We run into Good Time Charlie, Willie Bear, the 'Baker'. One of our friends on the waitstaff got married and was there with his new wife. It was incredible. Then the Five of us head out to Ruby Tuesdays for supper and bullshit and I eat up a storm. I've found a unique love of pasta lately and I pound it down by the ton.

Afterward, we head to Bryant Park, my old home, and sit out in the surprisingly warm day and talk. We gab like old women. It's hard to catch up through email and IMs. When one is face to face, and with the group, everything is so facile. We just fall into conversation. Afterwards, we say goodbye to Big A. Who used to work with us but relocated to North Carolina with his family to work for another company. He had come up for a religious thing, and that was all the more reason for us to get together. He never comes up to the city where we can all hook up.

We head back to Smith's for a few more drinks, and then KC and Betty split away leaving my brother and myself. We didn't want to call it an early night, so we headed to the movies to see THE WATCHMEN again, but could not find any theaters playing it at a reasonable time. From there, were stood out in the middle of the street with all of New York bustling around us. What to do? My brother makes the point that if I had brought my laptop, we could have headed to Starbucks and jumped online together for the rest of the evening. Yeah, that's right. But I didn't want to carry my baby tonight. Drinking poses unique threats to hardware, and I didn't want to subject her to them. It was best that she stayed home.

I decide that the night is over for me. I'm heading home. I say goodbye to OBSIDIAN and head for the Way, catching the number 2 at the Thirty Fourth Street station. This takes me directly home and I find myself walking down my long hall in my buildings to the elevator, and I stop. To my left, a large hole was blown into the wall days ago, and construction began. Tonight, it had become a deep alcove wherein was row, upon row, of mailboxes.

Yes, mailboxes. I walk into the alcove and down the rows on both sides. Mailboxes. No more having to deal with the security people giving you your mail. You can just come up and get it yourself. What a wonderful idea. I turn on the lights, open the full door of maybe forty mailboxes, inspect the area. It's amazing. Then I close everything up and turn off the lights, heading out and around to the elevator and to my room.

I find a portable in my back pocket, and I'm not too sure how it got back there, but I get online an enjoy it.

The night creeps in so, I do what I do best. Get on that damned novel. I type until tired, and then make calls. I call my mother to see how she is doing and then something tells me to call my friend RD from Jersey. I ring him and he tells me he's hanging out with my old business partner Charlie. They are just 'chillin'' out in Charlie's home. We talk and I agree to be picked up in two weeks because a very old friend of mine, who was our mentor of sorts, 'Father'...and that is his real nickname...is coming up. We began calling him that because he loved to give out advice. But Father is coming up from Georgia and we are planning on getting together for some kind of reunion. Yeah, another one. This is interesting too. I agree. The plan...they will swoop into the city to pick me up and off to the races I'll go.

I hang up the phone and sigh. My past. My past is gathering, either like the approach of a bright light or the gathering of a black storm. I'll not catastrophize. I'll have to deal with this decision that I've made tonight. Shit, all the time. There was something liberating about being homeless. Something free. Now, like some kind of hangman's noose, I feel things closing about my throat, already suffocating me.

My past is going to catch up to me, and I'll have to make amends. I have a feeling that you can run, but you can't hide. And I'll already have taken my licks, and as they used to say in Brooklyn, got my ass whupped. I'll have paid my dues, and therefore will have found acceptance? Re-admittance into he houses of the holy???

Is that what I want now? Or am I just free to wander, as does my brother OBSIDIAN. Free to enjoy the architecture of the New York streets. Free to do what it is that I will.

That's a good fucking question. I open my portable and take a stiff draw.

The future is uncertain.

I have to put everything in perspective. Maybe my awful times have past. Like dropping a television down a flight of stairs, every step takes it's toll on the device, and that's how your life hits rock bottom. It goes on an on until you fear that there IS NO rock bottom. But it soon comes to a jingling, crashing stop. Maybe my life has hit that stop, and I can stop freaking out with every shift and turn that it makes now.

Maybe I can get back into the driver's seat once more and MOVE. Take control once again, and make the necessary changes. That would be a good aim for change in 2009. Make the necessary changes. NOW.

I take another stiff draw from my portable.

Hobobob