| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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There's a whole book on Greensboro that I could write. But what sears the most in my psyche is the window of time at the beginning of my sophmore year in college. I got my own place, with a friend, a close friend, (who would become my best man and later, in recentyears, let me down so thoroughly). He wasnt in school but wanted to live there, as me and our closest friends were there, enrolled in school or some sort of school and Raleigh just wasnt the same all alone. Will was generally an irresponsible fuck. Why I went in on a place with him is beyond me, now, inhindsight. Not that I got dicked over in terms of money, it was generally just a bad idea. We moved into a 2 bedroom duplex on Aycock. Yes. We lived on 'A Cock'. Nice. To top things off, my close friends Brian, Chris and Mike were going to crash there temporarily. Brian was my roomate in the dorms the previous year and he decided he didnt like school anymore, thus he dropped out and Chris was enrolled at another Greensboro college. Mike. Mike was on the fringe of his psyche and would soon later lose it in part due to excessive acid use and spiral downward from there on out. He wasnt in school and Im not sure if he worked. He was the motor behind alot of the mischief we cause, but primarily his own madness. Most of the time, he was a side show. Otherwise, we had been a posse since the beginning of high school, chris, brian and mike even longer. We even had a band thus we were inseperable to a degree. I honestly lose the idea of the passage of time. Im not sure if I was there a total of a week, or 3. I moved in before school started. Probably on August 1st with school starting the 3rd week of August. It was the first time I had established bills and lease agreements on my own. I felt big. I was the only one working too. Brian, Chris and Will some how had parental support. Not me. I had to work. I can remember the smell. The managing of meals on my own (read: cooking). Even the bathroom...my very own bathroom. There was even Mike's mad creation known as the "locker". A linen closet in the hall in which on the inside he had pinned up some dirty pictures. I slept on the floor. My room was hardwooded and the smaller of the two rooms. I made a pallet. I had one pillow and otherwise lived out of a box. Furniture just didnt seem that important. I let the others take the larger, carpeted room with the music equipment to crash. To think we even rehersed in this place is a bit mad, but we did. At this point in time, I was dating Nico for about a month 1/2. I started to miss her considerably as she was back in Raleigh. At the same time, the gang and i were hell bent in Greensboro. We were starting to locate the hard drugs, and the liquor flowed. Our desperate, singlem, 30something neighbor was about to go through hell. Cops were called often. Serves her right for living directly across campus. Surely we werent the first nor the last. It was hot, late summer. Tempers boiled and we perspired cheap liquor. Will was prone to taking his clothes off. There was one incident where we all passed out in the carpeted bedroom and i woke up with in straight eye sight of his pecker, approximately 6 inches away. I had crashed on the floor, no pillow, face first in a cigarette ash riddled carpet with my bass drum pressing into one side and his bare ass cock to the other. After a night of pot, darvon and tequila (as I recall) this was the last reality I wanted to wake too. For some reason...I kept it together as long as I did. Working so much, I felt lost. Out of it. I would come home, beat and things would just be getting going. Late night discos, Will dancing naked on the stove and me, in my room, nothing but a comforter separating me and the hardwoods. Sleep dammit. Sleep. The week or weeks bubbled over when Nico came to visit for the weekend. This was the weekend before school was to start. Earlier in the week, we had met some ex-Ringling Bros carnies (or so they said) and copped some crack. Yes. crack. There we were, barely 20, in this bonified flop/crack house in greensboro, surround by a bunch of potentially scary crack heads. We got high. And we emptied out pockets wanting more within minutes. Like a rocket ship man. I somehow got the idea that I needed to fuck while on this high. Thus I undertook the scary operation, by myself to cop dope. This time, I had to actually drive, deal with another scoring crackhead in the backseat of my car and pray to god I didnt get ripped off. The ordeal took sometime and I can't say I've been more terrified in my life. Safely home and into the clutches of my new found love, we smoked behind my closed and locked bedroom door. Will and Mike both losing their minds at this point banged on the door begging for a hit. I didnt answer and just wanted them to leave us be. So I could see what fucking might be like high on crack. So I could be with her because their world was jsut too sharp for me at that moment. As I recall it wasnt a big deal. In fact, Im pretty sure I didnt come. A giant let down of all sorts.I lost it that night, I think, or maybe the next day. Im not sure. I think I might have fallen out of favor with Nico or something, as I was unsure why. Eitherway, I had had enough of the Aycock house. Monday morning, school started. I went to one class. That was to be the last class I ever attended at UNC-G. I packed my shit. One load in my car. Quit my job and went back to Raleigh. Nico said I could stay with her temporarily. That 'temporary' arrangement should be finally over, after 10 years to the date, in little over a weeks time. Greensboro served as a caludron of violence, delerium (along the lines of Street Car Named Desire when you consider the heat) , education (not just the proper kind), passion, intoxication and stupidity for me. When I think of Greensboro now, I actually shake a bit. It was way too unstable a life for me. And I was 19. I have my theories as to my conditioning, but thats something that will take time to sort out with my therapis. Sleeping on the couch recently though....hearing the hum of the fan in otherwise uncomfortable quarters (mycouch is really only a love seat in terms of size) Im reminded of when it all began. Im sad and glad as those were different times yet so much hasnt changed. Because I had hope. I had a woman I could focus all my energies into her, trauma passed quickly. I was able to act decisively with conviction. She made it so easy for me in so many ways. And to be on the virge of dissolution... it still quite sad, even in recollection of the seemingly worst of times. |
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In fact, just the other day, I was talking about the first time I had to pay for heat in a house. I had no money, so we had no heat for about three weeks in the dead of winter. The house was probably about 30 degrees most of the day. I finally just said fuck it and called the oil guys. Apparently, oil prices were really really high that year, which I had no experience with. They filled our tank and I got a bill for seven hundred dollars. Whoah. I had to explain to my parents, who were horrified and upset. Anyhow, I remember being young and fucked and clueless so well, but it was kind of an optimistic time in a way. I'm sorry you aren't able to bring that youthful perspective to your situation now, Patrick. At least you are able to look back on your memories without regret. At some point in time, you will look back on this time of your life and realize that it had something to offer as well, as hard as that might be to believe right now. |
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It was freezing cold and chock-full of sexual tension. 3 (out of 4) of us had signifigant others, but it was constantly too cold to fuck, too cold to even take off your socks. One of the guys made a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies every week, just as an excuse to sit by a warm oven. And you know how if you're out in the cold too long, some of your toes go numb? That would happen when we were just sitting in the house. Sure we got a 3 week break over x-mas and new years, but the worst weather is always in February. ------ One of those guys got married the summer we graduated. I just found out today they're not together anymore. The couple that got married between 2nd and 3rd year? Divorced 2 years later. These were my first friends to get married. Now both sets are over. How odd. |
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and yes. memories supercharged with emotion...like a vivid polaroid. somtimes black and white. sometimes vintage tungsten tinted. dream like with veneer. good words. |
That wasnt a conscious thought when I set out to write the piece. It was more about the passion, inspiration and potential emotional dependence borne out of my relationship with here. Where it really began and what the setting was like. I think the nostaligic fact that was derived from the piece, that almost to the day, 10 years ago, we moved in and lived apart until now is almost haunting for me. I think its interesting how I was driven to that point, without realizing it. |
I could easily imagine you reading it on "This American Life" or something like that. I mean that as a compliment. |
well, yeah, i realize i sorta blow my load by revealing as such....but im also prone to point out blemishes in my photo artwork as well. its something i need to work on. |
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Awesome post. |