Dont believe in ghosts? I didnt either.When I was 19 I had white hair, Buddy Holly tinted yellow glasses and a bad ass motherfuckin attitude. Breaking out of the cage made out of family, schools and bastards I felt magnificent to be living. I was B list cool; my typical day was the following;Mon-fri
9 am 2 pm attend all black Detroit beauty school where I was learning street smarts at an accelerated velocity
3pm-9 pm working at the most popular restaurant in the state10pm - 2am raves and/or poetry readings.I worked as a suicide hotline operator at a nonprofit on weekends. I am the king of equanimity.
The restaurant I worked at had a program that took in mentally handicapped young adults. I got to know one of them really well. Her name was Christine, she was 23, tall, thin, had somewhat bad teeth, red hair and a heart that went on my Good list. The majority of servers cooks and managers couldnt stand her because she was SLOW. They treated her with consistent disrespect and impatience. These are gay people I am talking about so the hypocrisy was making me question my assumptions. Some of us are born with characteristics that make living in society somewhat of an obstacle, gays and the mentally handicapped share this turmoil and yet the gays I worked with thought they were above her.Working with Christine I played a simple trick. It was her job to wash dishes/other crap and put them away, when she did her job for some reason gee I wonder what- she felt uncomfortable at work so her memory faltered slightly... when a restaurant gets busy and things are not where they are supposed to be..people can get vicious.
It took one hour to turn her around in the right direction. All I did was sneak behind her and put all the things where they needed to go, and then I praised her on doing a good job. Lies work when what you lied about becomes the fabric of reality and within 3 days she became the best at her job. The owners recognized the solid smart effort she was putting forth and raised her hours and her hourly rate. She worked hard and overcame some of the feelings of hopelessness she carried with her. She confided in me things about her life; being homeless, getting raped twice in glass littered trash heaps, having a baby that died in the womb, finding out at 23 she was adopted. She had moved back in with her parents and found a job and now that job was finally turning her life around. She was a good, funny, SMART person and I felt cool because she thought I was cool. I was proud of her.
......i wasnt there on her last sunset alive
8pm I whispered into the muggy darkness
you died......My boss called me and said Christine died and at first I thought he was talking about my cousin, whom he had never met. My mind was outside the possibility it was the Christine I worked with I said Christine who?It was the week of Halloween and Christine was excited because she had saved up enough money to buy a new bicycle, she couldnt drive. She rode up to the back of the restaurant showing off her bike. She then rode off back towards her house 4 miles away. She was riding her bike when a car smashed into her slamming her hard into the ground.she landed into a yard that had many Halloween decorations. She lay there dying like a dog as people drove or walked by, did she know they thought she was part of decorations, or did she think her life couldnt be worth saving? My intuition tells me that God shielded her from thinking altogether.
It was a hit and run, the kid that hit her was 20 and had went to the same high school as she did, where he made fun of her. One night he got drunk with his buddies and he decided to go on a food run. He hit her and kept driving to his destination, White Castle. He was caught after the police received an anonymous tip.I watched the restaurant turn into
The Shinning. Heh.I was by myself one Saturday evening at the hotline switchboard. Depression goes down around Halloween so there was nothing but the low hum of lonely circuits keeping me company. I was thinking about her and crying. A radio became busy and sang -And Ill remember the love that you gave me now that Im standing on my own- what is funny about that is that was Christines favorite song from the Madonna Something To Remember tape I often played at work. She liked to hum it and at that moment I realized that she liked that song because it reminded her of me. I shot up to see if the supernatural could turn on things that were not plugged in or had batteries and what I found was they could, or at least, she could.Anyhow, this entry is a rambling, shambling mess, as am I for the first time in a good long time. It is good to be home.Dont let love be your ghost.
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