Crazy, The Story

Drunk. Definitely drunk. Take a breathe, swallow that thick wet feeling, and focus. I see.. a table, some light, a ceiling fan. It's dark, there're stars. A patio? I'm sure of it (there's a pool). He's glaring at me, arranging his thoughts. Damn I'm drunk. Table is like a vast gulf between us; but smell that! Dark, warm, humid, sweet; smells like.. like.. memories, and love, and paradise...

He's mumbling, my nephew. "I remember when," I start; but it's not working. A swig of beer, the most exquisite taste of alcohol filtered smoke. "I remember..." Uhm... Damn he's grown! "I remember when I lost my mind." He wasn't expecting that, HA! Got your attention now, don't I, boy! Was that a thought, or did I speak? No matter. Man, but this is a great night, all things considered. Who needs heaven with nights like this? Oh, I was saying something. Focus.

"There was something so.. pleasant, about that place." And, for a second, I'm there again. Melancholy, peace, happiness. Sailing through time at a million emotions a second! Well, maybe not. Melancholy. Contentment. Profound, sad, happiness. "Even your emotions have an echo in so much space." Hmmm... "And when you're out there," I shake my head. Still too drunk. Focus. Beer. Smoke. "Well, out there," nope. Beer. Straighten out the thoughts. Focus.

He looks even more angry, and I remember. Ashamed. "Yeah, I was out of touch." Oh, that's not what he wanted to hear. One part of me laughs, another cries. "But it wasn't because I didn't know enough," I sigh, remembering. "I knew too much." Why did I whisper that?

He's confused. This isn't what he expected, and he's been drinking too. "Does that make me crazy?" He won't meet my eye. "Does that make me crazy?" Softer that time. Why am I doing that? Beer. Smoke. Oh! Maybe that's why. "Does that make me crazy?" I'm not sure if I actually spoke that time.

I'm not sure who I was asking, anyway.

"Possibly," I concede. Where was I? He still looks confused, lost. I understand that. Back when I was his age... "And..." all the things I did. There's shame and sadness, there; but also, intense pride, redemption, love, glory, happiness, and struggle. I smile, his anger starts to grow again. "I hope that you're having the time of your life." That cuts him short. I can see his thoughts rumbling across his face. Such a good kid. Not like me when I was that age.

All those times I got mad, screwed up, wasn't grateful, didn't appreciate... Smoke. Beer. Smoke. Just the old familiar depression, down that road. Fuck. But my boy there, my nephew- can't help but smile at that- he's... Well, he's gonna be alright, I guess. "But think twice." Solemn. Let him see the earnestness of one who learned that the worst way: the hard one.

He sees, I think. I think he'll get it. Maybe not; but maybe he'll learn faster than I did. Maybe he'll remember it and only have to learn once. "That's my only advice."

"Come on now!" Wow, he's shouting! "Who do you..!" I watch, interested. He seems to have realized something. "Who do you..." Was that softer? Haha! He's drunk, too! Welcome to the family addiction. My smile brings him up short. "Who do you think you are?' He finishes, not yelling, but still mad.

"Ha ha ha!" Who indeed? But, I'll take my forced internal reflection self-served only, if you don't mind

He's confused. Did I say all that? Maybe. Who does he think I think I am? God? Everyone thinks that. News flash, dateline goddamn forever ago: No God.

But he's still searching, isn't he. I remember that. Even when I thought I'd got it figured. "Bless your soul..." Which doesn't exist. I pray you realize that.

Hahaha! More beer! More smokes! Ah! What a glorious night! A nice breeze! Good beer. A belly full of great food! Who needs more? Who needs it? 'If there is no God, nothing has changed!'

But, then, he's not one of them, is he? Nope. He's past that, and before it. Digging deep to find himself in the oldest new ways. He's still young. Still hopeful. Still thinks he can make it work. "You really think you're in control." He nods, but it wasn't a question. Ah, hell! Fuck it. He'll learn. He'll see.

There's too many variables. Too much we don't control. And way too much blame to go around. "I think you're crazy." If a bear shits, is it my fault? Is it yours? The bear's? His food's? Nature's? "I think you're crazy." Nature is like gravity. No consciousness, no will, no mind. That... that bit that seems thought out.. premeditated... that's an artifact. Only there because of us. We see our selves in everything; especially when there's nothing there, or when we don't understand it. "But... I think you're crazy." Beer. Smoke. "..just like me." Did I just wink?

Anyway, fuck all that. Time for a new beer, another smoke, and a different tack. Smell that? Nature. And not designed! Ahem. Anyway. Goddamn I love it here, like this. Utter fucking perfection. My grandfather built this house. He was a hell of a man, my grandpa. A million feet tall, with a voice like God gargling gravel, and a will so stubborn it could bend reality! The type of force- it'd be hard to call him only a man- that could move mountains with a glare! He was my hero.

Like John Wayne. Same first name, actually. And Bruce Lee. 'Cause you have to admire men with such raw determination. I mean, fuck. Their will musta dripped off 'em, if they were anything like my grandpa. World could use a few billion more like that, I think. But they're all dead now.

Beer. Smoke. "My heroes have all gone..." Too much pain there. Too close to the old depression. But too true, too... HA! Smoke.

"To the life I want to live!" Cheers! Slainte! Beer. Beer. Beer. He can identify with that, I'm sure, my nephew. Good times.

"And..." What youth! I remember it. So much ahead. No wasted time, yet. No time to waste. Eager. Ready. Yeah, I remember that, too; and so much more. And how I felt. It's like yesterday. So young. "All..." Not long ago, either; but long enough. Beer. Smoke. "I remember... is..." Hmm, that's not right. Fuck it! Determination! Push on through! "Thinking I wanna be just like them." And the pain of knowing I wasn't. I'm not. And those little tiny times, the joy of knowing I was. "Ever since I was little." Beer. Smoke. Beer. Blessed by the presence of greatness. And cursed not to be so. But. "It looked like fun!" "And..." twice blessed/cursed to be great in my own way.

Beer. Where'd my cigarette go? Oh. Fuck it; one more again, maestro! Voice never was worth using for song, anyway. Hell, I suppose I couldn't help but be determined, looking up to men like those. And Joe. And Bobby. Charles. Gertrude... All the others. "There's no coincidence I've come." All gone. All dead. All my heroes are dead.

Such a long life, this. And still so much more to come. "And I'll die when I'm done." And hurt you, nephew, when I do. "'Cause, maybe, I'm crazy." Yeah. "Maybe I'm crazy." I wouldn't doubt it. Part and parcel of this family. "Maybe we're crazy." Yeah, definitely winked that time. Wonder what he's thinking, now...

"Probably."