As each year passes, I become more self aware of myself more adaptable to living life with my deficiencies or how I shall say, my lack of brain cells. I think I was blessed with a lot of them at birth and through most of my school years. But the self inflicted brain damage caused by years of abuse, has caught up with me.
Somewhere in jr. high school I decided I wanted to live in my world and not societies. Im telling I hung with a crazy frigging group of people back then. As if smoking pot wasn’t enough, we were got into some weird stuff. A couple of us had a job at a place called Daley Burgers. The boss told us to clean the bathroom. So we went in with some cleaning fluid and started wiping everything down.
Soon we all started to get a buzz . I still don’t know what it was, but I think it was dry cleaning fluid or some outlawed stuff now but the next thing we knew we were at my friend Rick’s house and in his room dipping our socks in the stuff and sniffing it all night. His mom kept calling up there and yelling “Ricky, I hope you’re not doing something bad up there” She never came up, so I mean what the heck. She probably thought we were reading Penthouse of something.
But srsly pretty much everybody reading this probably did the same thing, right? It’s a normal kid’s curiosity. So from pot, to cleaning fluid to eating hash and ham sandwiches in the cafeteria at school (I had to put the hash on them because mom wouldn’t), our High School marching band that we were in was flipping awesome! None of us were ever straight. All had long hair down our back, drinking and partying. That’s why I think I was blessed with a lot of brain cells, because Im still functioning today. Had I been shorted, I be riding the short bus to work now wiping down stairwells. Bottom line is I can’t remember anybody anymore. I have to carry a gun damn near everywhere I go because I can’t remember all the shit I’ve done. Some not so good.
I have people walking up to me and saying, “Hey man! Long time no see. How you been?” I freak when that happens. I don’t know if the guy wants to shake my hand or kill me, or both. I remember I was in a club about 6 years ago and Im hanging at the bar and this girl comes up to me. Nice redhead. “Hey Westwood, remember me?” I replied “ohh, sure, how are you? I don’t know this chick from shinola I say to myself. She asks if I remember her name. “ahh, man, Im sorry, Its been a long time” “Its me she says, you know Im the one u screwed in the ass at the Brass Door (titty bar) after we closed” “oooohhh, ya, I know you I said, so how’s it going?” I wanted so bad to ask to see her ass hoping that would bring back some memories, but I didn’t.
Still to this day I have no idea who she was. Like her saying I screwed her in the ass was gonna bring me around? I don’t think so. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, but I got outta that conversation real quick without even knowing her name. I mean hell to this day I walk through the mall and see kids in there twenties that look like me and I run the other way.
To bring some closure to all this, Im saying right now. If I don’t know somebody and they come up to me, Im not pretending anymore. I going to tell them I don’t remember them. Fuckem. If I can’t remember a chick I screwed in the ass, what make them so special you know? I don’t want anymore real life friends. I have enough. It’s going to be soon enough when I can’t remember them. Im cutting everybody off. At least with the online friends I can do a search and jog my memory. I like that world better than my real world Ill tell ya. Business cards? Forget it. I don’t want anymore and Im not handing them out.
Which leads me to my next story. Im not shaking hands anymore. People can kiss my ass. Ill tell you why in my next “Living like Westwood” series.
