Monday, June 4, 2012
I don't remember
I don't remember.
I remember (sad, bad, mad?) grandparents, naked and drunk. I remember bad people at base housing. I remember the word "NO" a lot from teachers when I first started out because I could already read and write and count and do so much more than the soft-headed spawn in the short chairs who ate paste and wrote in a some sort of retarded foreign language of lazy parents and hit or miss. I remember packing boxes.
I remember a record player and records that were different colors. Some were yellow and one was even red. That was pretty cool. "Little Miss Stuck Up" was one of my favorite 45s. I remember not being able to take a bath. That sucked.
I remember Christmas being hard, but always having something. That was bittersweet. The joy always came with a price so joy was never joy.
I remember church and God and the fall of men of God and then... no god.
I remember family illness, wearing my grandmother's clothes, being teased, and skipping school. I skipped a lot of school. I didn't skip to play, I skipped to get away from the teasing and the eyes. All those eyes - looking right through me. Surely they saw that I had no idea how to be around them.
I remember protecting my sister - I always did that. She was my job, and I took that job seriously. I took that job seriously until she fired me a few years ago in the most painful way. I will never recover from that. Ever.
I remember picking strawberries for money in the hot June sun. I ate half of them so the money wasn't great, but ---- the moments at the lake after work, when I rode my bike to the point to swim and laugh and jump -- was that joy? I think so.
Things started to go wrong at about this time. It was when I first remember engaging in neurotic excoriation and thinking about dying. It was when I first started my attempts to solve things by walking ... solvitur ambulando ... and talking - to myself.
I remember abuse at the hands of others. There isn't much to say about that. I remember people coming and going - some good and some not - none of them really mattering one way or the other in my life.
I don't remember much more after that. Isn't that odd? I remember only bits of pieces of a span of 40 odd years. Was I ever happy? Do I even know how to be?
I don't remember.