My flight is at 3ish...er, something like that...tomorrow...and so like my boss is all asking me if I'm coming into work tomorrow. Okaywhat? I'm all, "Well...I wasn't planning on it," and he just gives me that extended-stare-over-the-tops-of-the-glasses look. And I'm all, "What? Is that a problem, or something?" And he does the textbook passive/aggressive thing of the "No. That's alrigh--(cannot be heard anymore because he is walking away with his head down...) So, I was like "and don't you come back..." (No. I wasn't.)
I don't respect non-communicative bullshit. Would the world come crumbling down if you just come out with whatthefuckeveritis you are trying to communicate? Jesus. Why do people have to do worthless, boring little performances around what they are truly thinking? Ulterior motive, perhaps. I don't like to rush to that judgement. I like the thought that someone may just not have the capacity to articulate their thoughts. Or that they question the moral/ethical value of their thoughts. The mere idea that people fuck with you just cause they intend to fuck you over would not be thought number one on my WHATISYOURFUCKINGPROBLEM? list.
Well. I just don't care. I have performed above and beyond the call of duty at my job for many years now. And that's an outside opinion. I am stellar. And that's the fact. And so...that's why I can have such a kiss-my-sweet-ass attitude, and be fair. I should have said it quite a few times by now...but...now I'M SAYIN IT, AIN'T I? And it's makes me feel all cozy just reliving it.
Okay...so now I'm going to tell you about Jesus.
Jesus was this homeless dude who hung out in our little neighborhood. We live smack dab in the city...surrounded by victorians, which are law offices or professional buildings. Down the street is the Capitol, and all the government buildings; state, county, and federal. It's all right here...including the homeless.
So...this dude. He totally looked like the American version of Jesus...you know, like on those Easter movies made for t.v.? He had these dreadlocks, though. And he was semi good looking, for a homeless dude. So like I would see him all the time. And then finally one day I pulled over and he was sitting in this parking lot playing guitar. It was a Martin 6 string...with a Ovation case. I was like...dude...what is your story? And he was all talking slow and quiet. He said his name was Steve. (but we will always call him Jesus.) And he went into these little chords as he talked. He would like play for a bit...with his icky, dirty hands (but his nails were short and clean)...and then he would just say some totally random thing. I asked him if he had a family. He said, (strumming a g, like 5 times) "I got no family. I've had 3 girlfriends." (strumming a c now) "One, I had for a month." (now back to the g) "One, I had for a week," (now he stops playing and looks me square in the eyes, "and the last one I had for an hour." And I was like not sure if he was a maniac or just stupid. He wasn't on drugs...I could tell. And he didn't smell like alcohol. The whites of his eyes were solid white. And his teeth were straight...AND CLEAN. I was like, THIS DUDE IS LIKE SOME COLLEGE STUDENT DOING SOME SOCIOLOGY THESIS!!! Even his dirt didn't look real. It looked like ink...
So now I was on a mission to trip Steve up in his act of being a homeless Jesus. I told the neighbors, and wouldn't you know it? None of us had ever talked about him, but we had all secretly nicknamed him Jesus. We were on NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH over Jesus to see if he was a fake.
One day I was smoking cloves out back and Jesus and his Martin and Ovation came strolling down the alley. He smiled, and just at that time, Dave (my loveydovey) came driving up. Jesus looked at him. Then, Dave got out of the truck and said, "Hey, how you doin?" And Jesus shot like a bat out of hell down the alley...all running behind slow cars in traffic and shit. I was like...Whatthehell is that all about? And Dave told me that he had seen Jesus running after cars quite a few times. (like a little dog, or something. Poor Jesus...er, whatever.)
Then, another time I saw Jesus at the park. And I was like, "Hey, are you hungry?" And he's all "ye ah m an" (he talked really slow, like a stoner) "can you get me some french fries and a chocolate shake from McDonalds?" And I'm like, "Dude. I'll get you what I get you...and you better thank me for it when I do." So, I get him the NEAREST TO CHOCOLATE Jamba juice that Jamba could make. I came back, and I proudly hand it to him...like IM-SUCH-A-FUCKING-NICE-PERSON...and he's all, "whaaat's thiiiiis? I can't haaaaave thiiiiiss...therrrrrre's vitaminnnnns in that, maaaaaan..." And I was like, "That set me back FOUR BUCKS, MISTER. YOU'RE GONNA DRINK IT." (Jesus was only like 5'4"...I knew, in a pinch, i could kick his ass.) And so Jesus drank the Jamba juice.
The last time I saw Jesus was the night he pulled out our chase lounge and slept on it. As the sun came up the next day, he would rotate it back into the shade, until it was literally under our back window. I went out back to smoke, and saw this dark blue lump of godonlyknowswhat on my chase lounge. Dave told me it was Jesus. Later, I went back outside...and Jesus was gone. So was the chase lounge.
I have my theories about Jesus. No doubt I'll run into that shit at some SUIT LADEN convention downtown...sippin an espresso and juggling a PDA and cell. That guy. (I will then tell him I want my FOUR DOLLARS and MY CHASE LOUNGE back...the shitty little theif!)
Occasionally we hear of people who think they've seen him...but...I don't think it's the real Jesus...(there are Jesus lookalikes...)
I was never able to get a hold of his deal. Once Dave asked him what his deal was...why he was homeless, and all...and he just laughed. Jesus laughed and said, "Oh maaaaaan. I'mmm jusssst herrrre forrrr the jammms," and he did this spazzy little guitar solo...
Kristen said she saw Jesus at the Greyhound station, playing guitar outside...she wasn't sure if it was him...but, she really thought it was. Fact is, Jesus is gone..and...well...peace, love, and bong hits to you Jesus. We miss you, man.
*Theme song of the day, in honor of Jesus: ONE TOKE OVER THE LINE. (brewer/shipley)