Live in Jamaica on community supported radio…three nights of less than stellar amounts of sleep/whiskey and cigarettes. I know the DJ from my teens and have been in his studio during his show. I’m not sure the mics weren’t on as I stoned out of my mind tried to recollect the rastafarian colors until I was reminded that the room was painted in such colors…right.
People are assholes…if you can find someone who’s humanity seems to transcend the “being of a peoplehood” and even then they might hurt you as I’ve hurt others. I found a quote by Bob Marley a while ago that basically said that all people will hurt you you just need to find those worth suffering for.
Anyway, I was given a novel of a local murder mystery today along with a single facecloth to take home after being invited back for dinner. On my drive back I seemed to remember being given a “book and a facecloth” at a previous point in time, I don;t know for the life of me that it wasn’t this exact date last year and that that’s how insane my parents are. I know that “recreating my experiences” has been a pastime of theirs in the past often with reckless abandon without regard to human life. If only I could trigger their memories a little…criminals living high off the social hog they’d rather die than be taken from them.
At least it wasn’t three bottles of herbal remedies with instructions for their use (one to quit smoking, one for anxiety, one for who knows what) That has been what’s kicked off the big hoopla’s of my life…that means you’re going down, down,down for a while.