Sunday, May 29, 2022

the tenants


So these three people moved out some time ago and they were replaced by a family getting their house renovated but, needless to say, I  don't really miss them.

Here's the schedule. From midday until about five the friends of tenant#1 came to visit, tenant#2 between seven and ten and tenant#3 nine until all hours. On the weekends all bets were off with overlap occuring between all three groups of guests from the early hours of the morning until late.

Now here's the thing. All three tenants and their respective associates domain was the back yard and their tool of choice for relaxation was the bong. As the next door neighbor in this scenario, I had no issue with this form of herbal relaxation; the constant playing of Pink Floyd and music of the like wasn't loud but got a bit repetitve after some time. My main concern was the wind direction and the subsequent smell.

It was something I could tolerate until one event in history until one event changed everything - the pandemic. Due to circumstaces beyond me they must have changed dealers; as a side note I never thought that the pandemic would cause drug dealers to deliver. On a semi-regular basis, the groups of tenants would stand outside the local Centrelink in pairs, with one of them getting into a car that pulled up for a couple of minutes. Call me a bigot as far as evidence goes, but I observed this going on for a few months as I passed them when walking down tht street to do some shopping.

The smell had changed from the tolerable to the repugnant. This was totally different as this shit was strong and stunk like crazy. Wind direction made no difference and I was confronted with this stench for at least twelve hours a day,  seven days a week..

I had no desire to get anyone in trouble but this was becoming intolerable. Out of curiosity, I went to the local police station - to get a drug test. Twelve hours a day,  seven days a week of this pungent smell I thought surely this must have had some effect on me. I told the police that I don't smoke, I don't drive and I have none of the material in my possession, either in my house or on my person. Well it was a good thing I didn't drive because the test came back positive. I explained the situation to the constable and now a number of other officers after such a strange request; without giving any addresses, be it mine or theirs, they said there was little they could do in relation to what people get up to in the privacy of their own home. I had no evidence that they were dealing, but sure  had plenty of evidence they were smoking.

A couple of weeks later there was a strange amount of activity going on next door. I walked to the shops and two of the tenants were standing in the front yard. I asked what was happening.

"We're moving out."

Curiosity got the better of me and thus came the immediate response-

"All of you?"

"Yes."

Then it hit me. At last I was free.

Friday, May 20, 2022

dream #1

                                                                                                                                                                                          

                                             


So the other night I as I slept I remembered Wayne was gone. I thought all of this deep trauma had disappeared; he had passed away in October of last year - I had stopped crying most nights in March. Sure, I still miss him, but now in May I thought at least I was coping.

Then - it started.

It was like he was still here. I could not remember the specific environment, but he said something funny and we both let out a slight but collective giggle. Then we couldn't let it go.

The enormity of what he said started to build and we both started laughing harder. Then it developed into him laughing at me - and me laughing at him.

Maybe he had a little more self control than I did, as I fell to the ground. I was laughing so hard I couldn't form the sound of laughter. I just lie on the ground and fill my lungs with air every minute or so, gasping to feed the pain of my stomach and lungs pulsating. How can I describe it? The agony of intense humour. The occasional begging of "please stop", coupled with the phenomenon of us collectively wiping way our tears.

Then I woke up. 

Tears of joy rapidly turned into tears of pain and remorse. I was sweating like something that sweats profusely then I sat up, my head in my hands.

As selfish as this may seem, I couldn't give a fat rats ass about any other ability, and it is not lost me that his talent on guitar was more than substantial.

He was a genius of joy and fuck it, I want him back.


now

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