Sunday, June 29, 2008
I haven’t seen many of the people I grew up with since I’ve been back. The few that I have seen have been my closest of friends all along, and for the most part the experiences have been fun. Yesterday was a little different though.

An old, old school friend of mine from like kindergarten to grade 6 or 7 called me up and invited me out for drinks. He was the first boy I ever kissed, way back when. The group of us were tight – really tight. As tight as we were, we were also shit disturbers as kids. When I think back to some of the things we got into as kids, it doesn’t surprise me that so many of us have grown up to be delinquents.

We chatted a bit about others. I was relatively shocked by some of what I’d heard become of people. Possibly even more shocked to learn my friends’ perspective on certain things. An example would be a really, really good friend of ours was incarcerated for 8 years, for turning some other guy into a vegetable. Turns out they were involved in some gang beating, where this friend of ours hit the guy in the face. When the guy fell to the ground, others stomped him repeatedly. The kids who stomped him, got 2 years – while the friend of ours got an additional 6. Somehow, friend I was sitting with yesterday had convinced himself that the only reason our friend got it so hard was because the authorities were trying to make an example of him. It’s understandable, seeing how he was the one who was predominant in the gang happenings. But it was also clear there was more to that story that was missing. Canadian law isn’t that bias – I’m sure. And somehow, the friend I was with yesterday, though was there, escaped without any legal consequences. Something’s not right there. Something’s missing.

Another friend of ours from way back when, has been accused of rape – three times. Once, maybe he’s innocent. Twice you have got to question. The third time, there’s no fucking doubt he’s a dirty fucking skinner. A few others have taken the real nasty root, become crackheads and crackwhores – some making it out of that life eventually, only to be plagued with diseases as serious as AIDS.

It was sad to hear about the others. It was almost sadder to see what I saw yesterday. He mentioned he needed to collect something owed to him asked me if I wanted to walk down the street with him. On our way, he went on about how they’d better pay him in cash and not dope. Of course, when the crackwhores appeared they paid him in rock. Back at his place he continued to tell me he doesn’t use crack, just sells it from time to time – and even that’s not really his thing.

It wasn’t long before one of his friend’s showed up. We shared a few beer before we took off to another of their friend’s places. There, I found I’d had just about enough. I sat on the couch, the guy on my right asked me for a massage – as casually as he would an actual crackwhore, and the guy to my far left went was on the balcony smoking rock. I went off on my friend, telling him how disgusting it all was. I went off on the crackhead, telling him he could have done better for himself – he was good looking and smart and instead decided to sell his soul to the pipe. He agreed with me. I went off on the skumbag who asked me for a massage. My friend decided to go off on me. His defence was that he used crack too and it’s not that big a deal. He started to argue with the crackhead who was defending my stand and agreeing with me. I left.

And now, I’m sorely disappointed in him and myself. He was the first boy I kissed. He was innocent and naive. He was good looking and kind hearted. Today, he fronts like he’s a hardass, he surrounds himself in trash, and he tries to defend it. He’s cut himself short of what he’s worth and he’s content with it. I’m disappointed in myself because a few people had warned me about him long before I ever agreed to meet up with him. I choose to see it for myself rather than believing second hand information.

0 words of wisdom:


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No matter where I am, I'm lost and learning to like it. I'm a living contradiction, and the best lies I tell are the ones I tell myself.
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