Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
not even drunk and spilling drinks on me
What I don't understand is if he was so concerned about his girlfriend, why wasn't he there at the club with her? Soon after the situation was less tense and the boyfriend and his goons were out of the picture, I was let in on situations where him and his friends have acted in this way before. One of my own family members was involved in a serious confrontation with him as well.
I went out with friends, tried to have a good time, to get my head away from everything a couple of nights ago. Thing is, one of the girls that came with us kept on doing dumb things, like falling over. Kept on taking my eye glasses and putting in on herself. I wanted to dance, and all she wanted to do was drink, the whole freaking night. In between her and her other friend, they both had like a dozen shots total before we got out there.
She spilled her drink on me a few times, with me telling her that it wasn't cute and neither did I appreciate it. I told her, it would have been a different story if she was drunk. In the 27 years of life I have experienced, with me being a few years older than her, I could tell when a person is hammered, and she wasn't quite tipsy yet and was being annoying. Then she started to get tipsy. She didn't' really get drunk until she started drinking any drink that was in front of her. That's when I became a little annoyed and removed all the drinks away from her and suggested to my friends to call it a night because ms. party pooper is going to ruin the night or worse, get us kicked out when I paid $40 bucks to get in. (spotted a twenty to my friends).
I don't understand. If you can't handle your liquor, why do you drink? I mean there are other people there that are trying to have fun. After she fell a few times I got sick of it, picked her ass up from the club floor and pretty much dragged her outside, had her stand up against the brick wall. She was hammered, telling me that she wanted to dance with me just one more time. I was telling her that she needed to first trying standing up straight and not falling. Right when I said that a hand came flying at me, screaming my friend's name.
Before I knew it, two other guys were attacking my friend and another, more heavy set man, trying to attack me. I was hit in the ear a few times, and my friend in the face. We are both OK. I tried my best to push them off of us. When it was in control, and the dust settled in, it turns out that the girl we were taking care of outside, was the girlfriend to the friend of the guys that were attacking us. Attacking us because he claims we were getting too close to his girlfriend.
First of all, talking about being conservative. And second, who in their right mind, attacks a random stranger. I mean if that was my girl friend out there, first of all, I would have been with her because I think me and my girl would want to be together at a club, and second, given the fact that we were in a public place and not in an alley, I would have thought that she may not be in any relative danger. And if she was my girl, I would know where she is anyway, I mean given that we had our communications clear. I would approach my girl and ask her if everything is ok. Then I would give the strangers the benefit of the doubt the explain the situation, rather than attack them. ESPECIALLY if I knew the strangers. Thing is, the attackers KNEW my friend. The KNEW of his good intentions and his good track record, but we were still attacked.
Since I was the only one that was NOT drunk that night, I kept the peace and defused a potentially dangerous and highly jail able offense, just losing HPD's sight within minutes of it occurring.
I was asked later on what I would do if I was getting most of the beating. I said, it's simple, I would not retaliate but I would defend myself and not throw any additional punches. Then I was asked on how I would respond to the girl that I was taking care of, who was pretty much in tears that her boy friend would beat up her friends. I said, it's simple: I would stop hanging out with that girl because that kind of trouble she's associated with is not worth my time or blood. Oh, yeah, I would have also appreciated to have known before hand that it was going to be expensive to get in because of a bad ass, amazing international trance group was going to perform life. The music and the lights show was amazing, but because I needed her to just get out of there because she was making quite a scene herself, I think that girl owes me twenty bucks...and/or perhaps an apology.
Really silly, it's very hard to find genuine people out there, when you took care of their drunk girlfriends in the first place. Instead of thanking you, they beat you up.
I went out with friends, tried to have a good time, to get my head away from everything a couple of nights ago. Thing is, one of the girls that came with us kept on doing dumb things, like falling over. Kept on taking my eye glasses and putting in on herself. I wanted to dance, and all she wanted to do was drink, the whole freaking night. In between her and her other friend, they both had like a dozen shots total before we got out there.
She spilled her drink on me a few times, with me telling her that it wasn't cute and neither did I appreciate it. I told her, it would have been a different story if she was drunk. In the 27 years of life I have experienced, with me being a few years older than her, I could tell when a person is hammered, and she wasn't quite tipsy yet and was being annoying. Then she started to get tipsy. She didn't' really get drunk until she started drinking any drink that was in front of her. That's when I became a little annoyed and removed all the drinks away from her and suggested to my friends to call it a night because ms. party pooper is going to ruin the night or worse, get us kicked out when I paid $40 bucks to get in. (spotted a twenty to my friends).
I don't understand. If you can't handle your liquor, why do you drink? I mean there are other people there that are trying to have fun. After she fell a few times I got sick of it, picked her ass up from the club floor and pretty much dragged her outside, had her stand up against the brick wall. She was hammered, telling me that she wanted to dance with me just one more time. I was telling her that she needed to first trying standing up straight and not falling. Right when I said that a hand came flying at me, screaming my friend's name.
Before I knew it, two other guys were attacking my friend and another, more heavy set man, trying to attack me. I was hit in the ear a few times, and my friend in the face. We are both OK. I tried my best to push them off of us. When it was in control, and the dust settled in, it turns out that the girl we were taking care of outside, was the girlfriend to the friend of the guys that were attacking us. Attacking us because he claims we were getting too close to his girlfriend.
First of all, talking about being conservative. And second, who in their right mind, attacks a random stranger. I mean if that was my girl friend out there, first of all, I would have been with her because I think me and my girl would want to be together at a club, and second, given the fact that we were in a public place and not in an alley, I would have thought that she may not be in any relative danger. And if she was my girl, I would know where she is anyway, I mean given that we had our communications clear. I would approach my girl and ask her if everything is ok. Then I would give the strangers the benefit of the doubt the explain the situation, rather than attack them. ESPECIALLY if I knew the strangers. Thing is, the attackers KNEW my friend. The KNEW of his good intentions and his good track record, but we were still attacked.
Since I was the only one that was NOT drunk that night, I kept the peace and defused a potentially dangerous and highly jail able offense, just losing HPD's sight within minutes of it occurring.
I was asked later on what I would do if I was getting most of the beating. I said, it's simple, I would not retaliate but I would defend myself and not throw any additional punches. Then I was asked on how I would respond to the girl that I was taking care of, who was pretty much in tears that her boy friend would beat up her friends. I said, it's simple: I would stop hanging out with that girl because that kind of trouble she's associated with is not worth my time or blood. Oh, yeah, I would have also appreciated to have known before hand that it was going to be expensive to get in because of a bad ass, amazing international trance group was going to perform life. The music and the lights show was amazing, but because I needed her to just get out of there because she was making quite a scene herself, I think that girl owes me twenty bucks...and/or perhaps an apology.
Really silly, it's very hard to find genuine people out there, when you took care of their drunk girlfriends in the first place. Instead of thanking you, they beat you up.
Strange dream
This kid and I were friends, or he looked up to me and liked hanging around me. He was probably around 10 or 11 years old. We hung out at the ball park, took him to see a wresting event, I imagine, all the stuff a kid would like to see, you know?
Anyway, I had a bike, not a Harley or something cool like that, but a regular bike and for some reason the kid thought I was sleeping with his mom, and in the dream, I think I might have been or I might have had something going on with her and he might have found out. Not sure how he found out, but I guess he did and he came after me. This 4 foot dude comes after me and kinna jumps on top of me, trying to do a wresting move on me. I'm like it's not time for play yet, he's like,
"No, you fu***er, I don't want you to be playing with with my mom like that anymore!"
Then he scratches my face and pulls my hair and starts to kick me in my scrotum. I grab his leg before it penetrates one of my twins. He starts to cry and begs to me to stop seeing his mom and that he really loved me and he thought I was elder brother. He was crying, drooling, telling me that he was going to call me over to play Wii Sports and now all that's ruined.
It was pretty messed up. Anyway, back to the bike. So I'm just locking up my bike, and the combination happens to be "6969"--it wasn't meant to be perverted, just something you remember and it was easy for me to remember so I used it as a combination. So anyway, I'm locking it up and right as I'm going to scramble the numbers, the kid comes running in, dives under the bike and reads the combination code and starts to yell,
"I got you now, you bastard!"
"I'm gonnna tell my mom what your code is and I'm gonna steal your bike"
The funny part and weird part in all of this was that in the dream, I was pretty scared that this kid would steal my cheap, $20 bike. Funny stuff.
I don't know what the dream means nor do I have any intention of sleeping with any one's mom and I had another dream, but it was a bad one, that I really don't want to talk about right now. I've been having a lot of dreams lately. Like after I wake up. I set my alarm for 9 or 10AM, then wake up around that time, and go back to sleep for an hour. In that hour, most of the times, that's when I get bad dreams.
Anyway, I had a bike, not a Harley or something cool like that, but a regular bike and for some reason the kid thought I was sleeping with his mom, and in the dream, I think I might have been or I might have had something going on with her and he might have found out. Not sure how he found out, but I guess he did and he came after me. This 4 foot dude comes after me and kinna jumps on top of me, trying to do a wresting move on me. I'm like it's not time for play yet, he's like,
"No, you fu***er, I don't want you to be playing with with my mom like that anymore!"
Then he scratches my face and pulls my hair and starts to kick me in my scrotum. I grab his leg before it penetrates one of my twins. He starts to cry and begs to me to stop seeing his mom and that he really loved me and he thought I was elder brother. He was crying, drooling, telling me that he was going to call me over to play Wii Sports and now all that's ruined.
It was pretty messed up. Anyway, back to the bike. So I'm just locking up my bike, and the combination happens to be "6969"--it wasn't meant to be perverted, just something you remember and it was easy for me to remember so I used it as a combination. So anyway, I'm locking it up and right as I'm going to scramble the numbers, the kid comes running in, dives under the bike and reads the combination code and starts to yell,
"I got you now, you bastard!"
"I'm gonnna tell my mom what your code is and I'm gonna steal your bike"
The funny part and weird part in all of this was that in the dream, I was pretty scared that this kid would steal my cheap, $20 bike. Funny stuff.
I don't know what the dream means nor do I have any intention of sleeping with any one's mom and I had another dream, but it was a bad one, that I really don't want to talk about right now. I've been having a lot of dreams lately. Like after I wake up. I set my alarm for 9 or 10AM, then wake up around that time, and go back to sleep for an hour. In that hour, most of the times, that's when I get bad dreams.
lets see where do i begin?
food stamps
lying ex girlfriend
lying to my ex girlfriend
lying to myself
lying to the world
lying to my mom
lying
lying
lying
lying
and lying some more.
take a break.
back to lying.
back to food stamp application.
back to can't pay rent on time.
back to lying to be able to get an extension on the rent you couldn't pay on time the very first time around.
back to wondering when the next time will be when i'll be broke again and can't afford food or to buy a half gallon of milk.
remembering what people want that they want to win the lottery or something.
remembering what i always wanted, was the day that she comes back to me again.
remembering that she is the reason why i would wake up two hours earlier just so i would be able to afford her, my milk, three weeks in a row--because to me, she is my half gallon of milk that makes me smile.
That milk smile, is for you, my sweet, one and only half gallon of milk cutie pie you.
On a serious note, seriously, i wonder when i'll be going pay check to pay check again. wait, that was two friday's ago. wait, that's this coming friday. wait, you gotta pay
this,
that,
for those,
and for that thing, the whatchamacallit over there, and you can't forget those thingly binglies over there.
in a nutshell, you gotta pay for rent.
renting this life, i mean. one day at a time.
all you're doing is paying rent on your life one day at a time.
you dream of owning that milk farm, that milking cow, so you no longer have pay to rent it.
keep dreaming you african born confused desi/hair monkey. dreams come through--after all, look at the castle you're living in.
consider this: you're actually milking the american dream.
consider this: it's a little sour-sure, but you can be happy about it, because it could be a lot worse you hairy portuguese east african american indian.
food stamps
lying ex girlfriend
lying to my ex girlfriend
lying to myself
lying to the world
lying to my mom
lying
lying
lying
lying
and lying some more.
take a break.
back to lying.
back to food stamp application.
back to can't pay rent on time.
back to lying to be able to get an extension on the rent you couldn't pay on time the very first time around.
back to wondering when the next time will be when i'll be broke again and can't afford food or to buy a half gallon of milk.
remembering what people want that they want to win the lottery or something.
remembering what i always wanted, was the day that she comes back to me again.
remembering that she is the reason why i would wake up two hours earlier just so i would be able to afford her, my milk, three weeks in a row--because to me, she is my half gallon of milk that makes me smile.
That milk smile, is for you, my sweet, one and only half gallon of milk cutie pie you.
On a serious note, seriously, i wonder when i'll be going pay check to pay check again. wait, that was two friday's ago. wait, that's this coming friday. wait, you gotta pay
this,
that,
for those,
and for that thing, the whatchamacallit over there, and you can't forget those thingly binglies over there.
in a nutshell, you gotta pay for rent.
renting this life, i mean. one day at a time.
all you're doing is paying rent on your life one day at a time.
you dream of owning that milk farm, that milking cow, so you no longer have pay to rent it.
keep dreaming you african born confused desi/hair monkey. dreams come through--after all, look at the castle you're living in.
consider this: you're actually milking the american dream.
consider this: it's a little sour-sure, but you can be happy about it, because it could be a lot worse you hairy portuguese east african american indian.
The [poor] bastard
He was told that that he was only three and a half when it occurred. The
poor bastard didn't quite know for sure if it ever even occurred, or how it
occurred. He's positive that he's just not sure, because he doesn't
remember any of it. He remembers something, but it's only the bits and
pieces of the stories that vary somewhat from each other, with one thing
that was same in all stories: that his father was stubborn, and he knows
where he may get it from--well he feels his mom is stubborn to a point, as
well. But one thing that really makes him feel so good about his dear
mother that he loves to death is her persistence and her willingness to go
on no matter what. Even if her husband passes away as she's only a girl,
getting into an arranged marriage--only seeing her husband for the first
time, only on the day of her wedding. Even if her family back in India
were so poor they had to budget the words on the letter sent back to the
states to her, several years ago as: "Dear Jaya. Parents expired". Even if
her son appears to have abandoned her--all three of them, with the
youngest leaving her side when she needed it the most. The youngest one,
is probably the one she should have paid more attention to when he was
growing up. That one day, he would become so much of a nuisance to
himself and her, that he would just implode, rather than explode, and just
vanish into thin air.
Only the young one hasn't quite imploded...yet.
We are speaking about that young one. What people who are angry would
call, the bastard. But not in the bastard who didn't quite have a single
father, sense, but in the other way, where this bastard is the selfless
asshole who's living in your own home like it's a god damn freaking hotel.
That bastard, my friends, is the younger child.
But not anymore. Not quite, at least. And if you're wondering why this
bastard is so concerned of coming out of the closet now and revealing and
admitting his bastardness after all of these years, almost 25 to be exact,
let me tell you.
Because after almost 25 years today, this bastard had the balls to finally
look into his deceased father's eyes, well into his father's old black and
white photographs and feel something more than wondering who this man was.
While he always wondered who the man was, today this bastard actually felt
genuine pain for this man. Not on losing this man as a father, because
that would require this bastard to have a sense of humanity--no, this
bastard actually felt pain for another human being.
The young one, my friends, imploded right then and there, and suffocated.
After 25 years, this bastard shed a single tear for at least one of his
parents' misery. What a freaking bastard.
-I'm that bastard!
poor bastard didn't quite know for sure if it ever even occurred, or how it
occurred. He's positive that he's just not sure, because he doesn't
remember any of it. He remembers something, but it's only the bits and
pieces of the stories that vary somewhat from each other, with one thing
that was same in all stories: that his father was stubborn, and he knows
where he may get it from--well he feels his mom is stubborn to a point, as
well. But one thing that really makes him feel so good about his dear
mother that he loves to death is her persistence and her willingness to go
on no matter what. Even if her husband passes away as she's only a girl,
getting into an arranged marriage--only seeing her husband for the first
time, only on the day of her wedding. Even if her family back in India
were so poor they had to budget the words on the letter sent back to the
states to her, several years ago as: "Dear Jaya. Parents expired". Even if
her son appears to have abandoned her--all three of them, with the
youngest leaving her side when she needed it the most. The youngest one,
is probably the one she should have paid more attention to when he was
growing up. That one day, he would become so much of a nuisance to
himself and her, that he would just implode, rather than explode, and just
vanish into thin air.
Only the young one hasn't quite imploded...yet.
We are speaking about that young one. What people who are angry would
call, the bastard. But not in the bastard who didn't quite have a single
father, sense, but in the other way, where this bastard is the selfless
asshole who's living in your own home like it's a god damn freaking hotel.
That bastard, my friends, is the younger child.
But not anymore. Not quite, at least. And if you're wondering why this
bastard is so concerned of coming out of the closet now and revealing and
admitting his bastardness after all of these years, almost 25 to be exact,
let me tell you.
Because after almost 25 years today, this bastard had the balls to finally
look into his deceased father's eyes, well into his father's old black and
white photographs and feel something more than wondering who this man was.
While he always wondered who the man was, today this bastard actually felt
genuine pain for this man. Not on losing this man as a father, because
that would require this bastard to have a sense of humanity--no, this
bastard actually felt pain for another human being.
The young one, my friends, imploded right then and there, and suffocated.
After 25 years, this bastard shed a single tear for at least one of his
parents' misery. What a freaking bastard.
-I'm that bastard!
