“Why can’t we have some guts?”
Raspberry yogurt, Iggy Pop dancing on VH1 Classic, 13 pounds down, tinnitus, Alfred Hitchcock films, The Iceman Cometh, oatmeal raisin cookies, jumping jacks, getting creeped out, The Royal Tenenbaums, Liam and the candy machine, a porch in Mississippi as microcosm of life, rejection of genuflection, loose change, terminals in ports, Gonz in purple, Hemingway as the next big thing, screamo in the sticks, My Space as buzzword, "Rock & Roll Ain't Noise Pollution" but it can damn sure move Nike product, and getting ready for the spring that will suely come.
I attended the visitation for my friend "Smooth" on Friday and saw many of the people I would have likely seen at the 20th anniversary high school reunion that I did not attend back in October. It was a weird scene: a room full of smiling people getting reacquainted while Smooth lay in state; cards atop his body saying "I love you Daddy" made by his children, a picture of him as a child beside the casket, and a picture of him and his wife and kids by the registry. I should have brought a Happy Meal toy from the mid-80's and surreptitiously placed it inside the coffin. Most of my memories of Smooth were from the days when we worked at McDonalds years ago. He went from fry cook to manager while he went to college. He refused to go on salary and at the end of his tenure there he was making more than the store manager. He was a smart dude. He was a great person with a snickering kind of laugh that will live in my memories long after I've forgotten things like when he dragged Bruno across the Mercury Plaza shopping center parking lot - Bruno hadn't quite gotten all the way inside Smooth's Toyota, or watching him change the grease out in the fry machines at McDonalds in 1985 (something he did every week - a messy and thankless job that he had volunteered to do), or the day he showed up to work so hoarse he could barely speak when I was on my second go around at McDonalds just to raise money to go to NYC. Smooth was hoarse because the girl he had gone out with the day before had fallen off a trail seriously injuring herself and he spent hours calling for help since he couldn't get down to where she fell and didn't think he would be able to find his way back there in the dark. Somebody eventually heard him screaming (a park ranger I believe) and a Lifeflight helicopter came to rescue his date. That girl later married Smooth and you figured nothing would ever harm them again. But life never goes as planned. It's a fluid thing and you never know when something unexpected might happen. Smooth left the party way too soon, but we were lucky to have him while we did. All of us that knew him were blessed by his good nature. It's why we could smile on Friday as we updated each other on our lives. Truly it was a sweet sorrow
A guy I knew since the 7th grade died on Tuesday. It was a car accident - a case of being in the wrong spot at the wrong time. I've mentioned him at least once here before in the story about the night I went commoding. He was known as Smooth; Jason Gray was one of the nicest persons I've ever known. He leaves behind a wife and three young children. There has been a fund set up to pay for his children's education: Gray Children's Education Fund @ Bank of America.
Lately I've been dreaming in sitcoms. All new original episodes of old classics playing just for me. It was <i>Sanford And Son</i> a few weeks ago and last night was <i>Seinfeld</i>. It's my own subconscious fan fiction. The <i>Seinfeld</i> dream was as good as some of the original shows with George and Jerry visiting a mall before heading to a movie. George is in his unemployed stage and he's concerned about being able to pay for dinner, the movie, and snacks. He goes on about the indignity of getting an allowance from his parents and mutters that'll he only have $2.25 left after buying dinner and movie tickets. A store manager hears this and he yells out that he has shirts for only $2.25. George then goes browsing through a collection of the most hideous shirts. It doesn't read funny, but trust me; it was. If only I could dream an original sitcom series.