Repeat Till Death

Chapter Four - Cutie Pie Squared

CHAPTER FOUR - CUTIE PIE SQUARED

A million miles into the jungle, a million miles out. Well, what they say is a hundred or a thousand miles in and out, but I say a million. And only because I went a million in deep and if I said a billion or a gazillion I'd sound facetious.

Being hard headed, it doesn't hit me till after the fact. It takes the deed to create the realization. And now first, the actual playing field.

It's like ninety five percent of the United States population was dating and succeeding and failing in all those High School lovey dovey forays. And than there's that remainder five percent, of which I was a card carrying member.

We the five percent who are the drunk ass f***s. And most of us are disgustedly tolerated, as we are of our 'hoods, so we go on and on shitfaced and stupid over and over with our 'born and bred' pass. And through my life and times I've discovered us drunks and addicts can always get that type of pass for what we do, as we hit close to people's homes and hearts. And so we continue, we cannot stop. Well now, in retrospect me now being on the other side, as I miraculously did stop, I kinda can put that era in its proper place and so I minimize the dwelling and sweats of the memories, best I can. But, it is still a fact of my past, I myself was the High School loser. And so yours truly did not experience the normal growth social dating wins and losses at fourteen and sixteen as it was all about the Bacardi and beers. So yeah, still, still in my genes despite my fortunate current rehabilitation I continue feeling as the utter total failure during my youthful dating scene. And, add on and factor the massive self-destroying behavior which just continued on through my adult life with my buddy the crack pipe, and yes I’m a social wreak.

Well, lookie here now as I’m in action post-deal with demon guy, actually giving the dating life the old college try! Yikes, didn’t mean to recollect the college years. You can guess, a deeper downward spiral! More about them years some other time! But, all that to be told, I'm, reckoning with the boost from my pact, getting a real true taste of the quality dating stuff right now in front of me. Alright!

We met at a Giants game and I scored the digits and all the while since, we have flirted and exchanged secret messages and finally I'm in the ritzy good part of the city where her apartment sits. I even stopped at a corner store and loaded up on the condoms. And now it's just her and I, and her cat, those suckers are everywhere, and while my mind is playing out the s*x scene of the century we are just talking and talking and talking and like a sucker nice guy before I ever got comfortable I'm just like that right out the door.

Damn!

Silently I'm driving away. Her pad is in Russian Hill so I'm leaving going west towards Polk Street. Fortuitously at Polk Street I take a left, back down towards my familiar blocks.

Down around Middle Polk the pimps have got the fashion models out. In the recent times off the drugs I've exchanged my crack past of financing skyscrapers in Medellin and Mexico City for affording the top-tier working wages of the tall red head and the chick from the 'Driver's Seat' song. This has been my life normal, my personal pilgrimage across my bridge of my existence. See, my truths since those late teens and early twenties, when I traded absolutely everything, everything to hop on the drug train and ride them wheels so damned hooked on the substances was that I became the utter sad sack of my times. And so very f*****g pathetic begets so very f*****g alone. And so I booked to the streets for my human flesh needs. And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Well, now here at this very current scenario of my times I take the viewpoint of I'm trying to climb the escalator out of the gutter and into the quality life and so I realize I'm growing light years away from those days of the piss in the sink hotels and having my drug life s*x with my fellow drug life ghosts such as she's got her abscesses literally bubbling all over the mattress and I'm mumbling in the tongues of stuck-on-stupid, as those were my constant scenarios, and so nowadays I've turned to a much more pleasant page.

And from all of that past phase of existing I'm now into my new epoch of being with the so tall so hot red heads in smart jackets who in the flash of the cash take it all off. Much better. And these thoughts all bring me to this very exact moment, this instant where in the back on my head I'm still not completely registering what I didn't say or didn't do, just no damn f*****g idea, over at ritzy women's apartment.

O.k.

I could of given a sketch artist a description of the sweetie who's place sadly a few moments ago I just left, had the artist provide the specs to the most advanced 3D printer, created her, called a Holy person to sanctify the new lovely, and this new she, my goodness, who this very second was strolling exactly, exactly on this track, exactly in front of my ride, this new she would of been just all so a nearly precise replica to the she who’s place I just left. A double-take? Nope, I did a triple-quadruple take!

Maybe forty five minutes later, we back from a church parking lot a bit uptown and us now exchanging pleasantries and goodbyes, I chomp on my hot good fortune and pat myself on the back for my professional gamesmanship when just exactly then the ton of bricks hit my head. And the hit on me so damn solid! Like I shared, it takes the deed, then the realization. The awareness is now pinching me silly.

"Whooooa!!! That's how it works! Sytry did it!"

A touch of the freshness, the finer fabrics of this life on earth. That's what I wanted, and lo' and behold, it's being granted and provided. And man, such sweet street life joy of the ol' flesh. Sytry just had to of had a hand helping her and I cross. I mean the she of the apartment and the she of the street verbatim in the looks. Wow, the power of a demon.

So yeah always look on the bright side of life and let's chalk up the tet-e-te to the demon bargain aiding my personal life’s trajectory to stretch on up into the sky. Keep going onwards best you can! Don't go back. And, if there is a step in the reverse, take ten steps forward!

And, next, like a ratchet hitting it's stride and just about to whip out the old rusty bolt, and all aided by a baseball bat swing from the steroid era, there's the crystal clear view of the stage play of which I’m finally an actor.

I see the true new reality. The metamorphosis realization!

My thoughts are back to cutie pie in the ritzy Russian Hill crib. Hey, I got to her apartment. I did the best I could at this juncture in my life. I tried, I failed, I didn't destroy myself with the crack pipe when I left her place feeling like the complete loser. Man, I've lived to tell. I've lived for another day! And there will be others, I'm sure of it. My new normal! There will be scores and failures and touchdowns and slaps and I'm growing and experiencing and I'm playing those normal human adult games of man meets woman, man and woman go through all the trials and tribulations and feelings and just everything, and, and, yeah, yeah, f**k yeah, I'm in the game!

Wow, a find of my times, an awakening for my ages! Sytry did it. He is producing his end of the bargain. A taste for me of the normal life. Aaammaaazing!! Well, now all things considered, I best get started on my end, my part, of this damn deal.