NEEDLING

The red wine is almost gone. I’m stuck in this position that I don’t quite know how to explain. I do not want this blog to turn into a place where I complain all the time, where I describe ceaselessly my pathetic existence. No and no again. That’s not what I want. That’s why I haven’t written lately... because I’ve been in a self-pity mood, and I don’t want any of it. I’ve tried and failed with this form all ready with a book of poems I wrote many years ago called The Pathetic Man. It is very badly written. I’d unfortunately given a couple of copies away and it might be in somebody’s procession somewhere. (This notion is at once exciting and scary.) For example, a few years ago I stayed at my friend John in Portland for the winter. I read some of my new poems to him and his then fiancé – they are now married. (I eventually read several poems at a now unfortunately defunct rock-n-roll club called The Skinny several times that winter.) John told me he still had some copies of poems I’d given him more than ten years before! When we were roommates in Camden, Maine. He showed them to me. I looked at them. Read them as if I was discovering a door into my now mostly forgotten past – I have a horrible memory. It was at once wonderful to rediscover myself and terrifying that somebody, anybody, even a good friend such as John, would have kept these angst-riddled scribbles for so many years. It gave my ego a little boost.

Feeling nostalgic, I was just going through some old floppy disks I’ve been keeping around since the late eighties. I haven’t tried to read them in years. Two out of three don’t work. In those that do, every other file is dead. Inside the third one I popped in my floppy drive, I found a file called El Patheticus (several hundred pages long... a pre-cursor to The Pathetic Man) and I found this following “poem”, if you can call it that...

Here it is. Enjoy. Nothing has been changed. Line break, language, words, or anything else. It was written either in 91, 92, or even possibly 93. I was working as a janitor. It's fun, for me anyway, to find and read such writing, as bad as it is.

some bars i'll probably not go back to

really hot today and i've being sweating it out
i went to the office and picked up a scrubber and some wax
then
 i went to go talk to the maintenance guy
 at the blood bank
then
 i delivered some music and instrument 
 for my land lord downtown
but on the way there i ran out of gas
  on north lamar right by the 24th street intersection
so and i ran up 25th 
  then i crossed over to 24th
  and almost walked all the way to the drag
  to find a gas station
i filled my two gallon life saver
  and got a ride from this long haired guy
  in a humongous 80's beat up red buick
who told me he's run out of gas on Lamar before
  and it's the shits
  i agreed: nowhere to park off
    you gotta leave it on the road
then to make it worse
  i couldn't get to my gas tank
  because it's on the traffic side
  and all these cars kept speeding by
    probably cursing me out
i waited patiently
  thanking god 
  that some cop or wrecker hadn't towed my van away
and then this guy with a baby in the passenger seat
  in a real nice metallic blue continental
  you know
  the expensive kind
stopped and blocked traffic 
  so that i could fill up my tank
he waved at me
  and i waved back thankfully

after that i went back to the station
  and filled up the tank
and went on to deliver this music downtown
  i was just on time
but landed myself 
  right at the beginning of the heavy afternoon traffic
so i decided to stop at this bar on 4th street
  and have a cold beer to relax a bit
  and read my Philip Levine book 
  i'd just bought

i went to the back courtyard
and all the tables were full
  so i asked these people
  if i could seat down
  since they had four free seat there
the girl
  a preppie college makeup perfumed and ready for a sale
looked at me
  amazed that i'd even had the guts to ask her
and said NO
  in a oh-god-please-don't-seat-beside-me way
they're reserved, she said
  so i looked at her
  and not wanting a scene
  i sat by the plants
nobody ever came to fill there seats
  somehow
  after looking at the whole crowd for the first time
  i understood
that these were all wantta be drinkers
  and moma poppa's money in pockets socializers
  but i ignored the fact
  and opened "what work is"
  enjoying it even more so because of the irony
  of where it was being read.

i moved
  got up 
  and went inside 
  to find a free seat 
  on a leather couch
and i ordered another guiness
  and read on
until these two ladies sat by me
  and one
  a blond business sharp yuppy thing
  asked me if i might have a joint
i said that i didn't
  and kept drinking and reading
then 
  i asked her if she thought 
that maybe her friend
  who had gotten up and left for a minute
would mind if i grabbed one of her cigarettes
  to which she grabbed the pack 
  and gave me one
  then lit it for me
i went back to reading 
  after saying thank you

after a while 
  she started trying to get a hold of people
  sitting in front of us
she was still in search of a joint
she kept yelling "Hey!" and "You!"
  and was getting no response
  so i yelled "YO" 
  because i was getting annoyed
  and couldn't concentrate
  and i got the guy's attention
the guy nodded his head 
  and she got up
  thinking he had a joint
he grabbed a hammer 
  out of his back pack
  thinking that's what she was asking for
and i had to ask
  why in the hell would he have a hammer 
  in his back pack
and he said 
  with an australian accent
  that he had just found it earlier today
  
after another short while
  two dweebs in ties and starched slacks 
  came buy 
  to meet these two ladies
  and they all got up
and i thanked god and ordered another guiness
  thinking they were gonna sit somewhere else
  but they just shook hands
  and the ladies sat back down
  while the two dweebs stayed standing
  talking their gibberish
then the blond in search of a joint
  turned back to me
  and asked me 
  if i wanted another cigarette
being one to never refuse gifts from strangers 
  i accepted
  and as she was lighting my cigarette
  she said:
    "if you can find me a joint
     i'll let you have the whole pack."
i wanted to spit 
  on her nice velvety blue suit
  and tell her 
  that i wasn't no fuking bell boy
  but i didn't
i went back to my book and my beer
  and when i finished my beer
  i left without saying a word
and i noticed that one of the two dweebs 
  took my place
  and the blond 
  put her arms around him
  never once looking at me
  keeping her line of talk 
  uninterrupted.

i drove home
  and now i'm getting ready for work.