Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Big Sam, Skeletoes, Soul Traffic, and the Last Exit

                                                                                            July 30th, 2012

     Big Sam looks like a smaller version of one of the giants from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' books by George R.R. Martin. He's big, hairy, has deep set eyes and a rough face. He's also a little overbearing and very 'sensitive' and 'combustible' at times but he tries to help people around the shelter. Big Sam is alot like me, and alot like the me that I used to be when I drank. Sam spends a lot of time fixating on what other people think of him, the phrases;

"They hate me."

And,

"It's because they hate me."

Are sort of like his official monikers. I understand it though. When you think you're shit it's easier to justify abusing yourself, whether that's drug abuse, self-inflicted mental abuse, or even self-inflicted physical abuse ( including the neglect of hygiene). Big Sam went to the hospital an hour ago because he was having trouble breathing. His daughter came out of the woodwork and spent the night at the shelter waiting to here from the hospital about his condition.

"He just won't stop." I heard her tell a staff member.

I only had an inkling Big Sam's health was so poor, other than the obesity which is pretty obvious I only once suspected he might be abusing an illegal substance. Most likely I never noticed, what everyone else has told me is obvious, because I tend to distance myself from Big Sam. He's extremely needy and always seeking approval from everyone at the shelter. Traits that remind me of how I was not that long ago, and how my dad used to be when I was a kind. My father was the kind of guy who could and would make fun of anyone but the second someone cast aspersions at him... it became a big fucking deal and he'd either lash out at them or silently plot his revenge. Sam strikes me as that kind of person.

But I don't really have the luxury of giving up on people anymore. I try to hold up all life in my spirituality... but how do you hold up the life of someone that seems to be clinging to an anchor? You have to build up your spiritual muscles and learn when to let go.

A friend of mine just walked into the coffee shop in a state I've dubbed 'Uber-Over', I'm just glad she survived her twenty-first birthday. Hyper-emotional, bleary-eyed, and all kind of hungover, but alive. I'm very happy she's here It has given me a new term or rather a new use for a word. 'Hyphenated'; That girl is totally Hyphenated. I'd tell her all of this but she seems busy with her friends and breakfast.

One of the waitresses is wearing 'skeletoes' today, I think I want to get a pair. They look really comfortable, perhaps I'll check a couple thrift stores to see if I can get a good deal on a pair after I donate plasma on Wednesday.

Every second, Every minute, Every hour, Every day, year, decade... everything and everyone is in a state of transition. Life is like a highway and every exit sign and city we pass is a memorial to everything we've experienced on our way to death. Our paths are different but sometimes the lanes merge and we get to share the road for a while. We may part from one another at times but eventually we all meet at the last exit.

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