[15] Soft Elbows

[15]

Well, whatever. I have relaxed a little. Nothing is changing. I have just been dangling here trying to keep it to myself. I mean, it was working for a while. But then the sun went down. Then I don't even know what happened. A car pulled into the parking lot. I mean, I am pretty sure it was a car. I can't see through the curtains anymore. I mean, I didn't bother mentioning it because I guess I was depressed or something, I mean, I don't know. When it happened I kind of just let it happen and it was over so quickly that I barely even noticed. I mean, I won't lie, it felt like par for the course or whatever. I mean, the Matron came in and closed the curtains. That is all that happened. She came in, walked over to the curtains. Shut them. Then left. I mean, I just kind of looked while she did this. I mean, strangely she looked in my direction and kind of did a face thing. Which, I mean, maybe it has something to do with something. I mean, she did make a face in my direction when she woke up from her nap earlier. I guess. But so what? I mean, I don't think she saw me, I mean. I mean, if I was to see some human face looking down at me from some skanky motel room wall I would have screamed. At the very least. But, I mean, the look on her face was more like disgust. I mean, for all I know there is a spider or something dangling down behind me. Or some patron threw a pile of shit against the wall that she didn't want to clean up. I mean, that is the nature of the face she made. I mean, whatever, I mean, I don't think I have done any sort of inspection on these walls here, I mean, not in the daylight or whatever. But if I did, I am sure there is all sorts of gross shit dangling around. I mean, for all I know somebody threw a dirty tampon into a spider web and it stuck. And that is what she was looking at. I mean, she did kind of run out of the room after looking in my general direction. But still, she probably had some other lazy business to attend to. Like, I don't know, spilling nacho cheese on her bologna sandwich track suit. Or whatever. Jump suit? Sweats ensemble. I mean, I don't know why I am giving her shit right now. I don't really mean it. I guess I am just annoyed that she shut the curtains is all. I mean, the car or whatever drove in. Somebody got out. Slammed the door. Then the car drove out of the parking lot. For a second I saw the guy that got out. His shadow on the curtains. I mean, it was a dude. I think it was probably Tony. I mean, I think I heard him open a door and go inside. Neither Danny nor the Matron came over to talk to him. And now it seems like it is raining outside, so, I mean, unless somebody is going to be really loud when they come around I won't be able to hear shit. Nor see shit. I mean, at least the crickets are not playing their idiotic fiddles tonight. I guess the rain is keeping them inside. Forcing them to rub one out on their own accord or whatever. I mean, I won't lie, the rain makes things a little more lonely around here. But the sound is pleasant. In some regards. I mean, you don't get much rain around here. Not in any real sense. I mean, maybe the rain is unearthing my murdered body out there in the badlands? Maybe someone will find me on accident? I mean, lord knows nobody is looking for me. Not yet, at least. I mean, who know if anyone will ever come looking for me? I mean, I kind of assume my parents will eventually get the memo that I am not around anymore. But will that mean they come looking for me? Probably not, actually. I mean, not because they don't like me, I mean, I guess I have just kept to myself for so long now that I wouldn't even think that it would occur to them that I was missing. I mean, out of site out of mind type of thing. I mean, I do have that brother out there somewhere. Doing god knows what. I mean, we aren't really on speaking terms. I mean, not by anyone's fault. Well, I mean, my fault, but not because I wanted it that way. I mean, you just get older and kind of drift apart. I mean, the last I heard he was down in Pueblo, but that was like five years ago. And, like I said, I don't really speak to my parents. I mean, I feel like someone would tell me if they died or whatever, got into an accident, but I mean, the same would go for me, I think, with them. So, I mean, out of site out of mind type thing from my point of view as well. I mean, not only that, but what would they even say? And to who would they say it? The cops? I mean, Our son is kind of missing, I mean, we haven't seen him in years and we never really knew what he was up to, but still, maybe go have a look around for the guy? I mean, that is nonsense. I mean, my poor parents, kind of. I mean, whatever, they raised me, so I don't really feel too bad for them. But, I mean, one son just out there doing who knows what, going to jail sometimes and the other son moving to Pueblo. I mean, it might as well be the other side of the world as far as they are concerned. No grandchildren. No Christmas cards. I mean, as far as I know. I mean, maybe my brother sends Christmas cards, but I am sure they are received with bitter derision. I mean, both my parents are very irritable people. I mean, I don't mean that in some sort of mean way, I just mean that they were not the best parents and who knows, maybe they have gotten what they deserved. I mean, I don't feel any real emotion about it. Not talking to them, I mean. I mean, growing up was whatever and high school was whatever. But then, I mean, I guess you just kind of grow apart from people. Especially the people you don't really like. And, I mean, I don't dislike my parents, I just don't enjoy spending time with them. But, so what? That is all just nonsense now. I mean, for all intents and purposes, I am now buried in the badlands just waiting around to be found and for some reason this other part of me is dangling here in this skanky motel waiting for the last shoe to drop or whatever. I mean, if I had any sort of nostalgia I would be sad about this, but I guess I don't because I don't feel a single thing about any of it. I mean, I won't say that I am ready to move on, however, I mean, just fucking end this shit. I don't get it and I don't think I ever will. I mean, everything out there is beyond my control anyway, like, I mean, what is the hold up? I mean, more proof there is no god. I mean, if you ask me, otherwise, what is the fucking point? I mean, does god just need some eyes and ears on the Matron farting out orgasms in her perverted motel? I mean, if that is true, that fucker is just as perverted as she is. And I am not so sure she is really that perverted. I just think she has some issues. But whatever. It's not like I can do anything about it. I mean, even if I just think these things there is no way to get them down. I mean, it will just be my memory about this shit anyway. And, I mean, I always thought I had a good memory, but do I? I don't fucking know. I mean, my reality is someone else's pants load. I mean, you know what I mean? I mean, I am my dad's pants load. I mean, who the hell knows what he was thinking when he dropped that bomb in my mom's hoohaw. And then nine months later here I come. Screaming, shitting, puking, crying, sucking. I mean, an absolute succubus machine. And then they raise me up. I go to high school. And then, sayonara suckers. Thanks for the help. I will see you at the funeral. I mean, you know what I mean? I mean, even if my dad was like Sigmund Freud in the midst of some profound thought when he shot a load into my mom, I mean, it wouldn't fucking matter, right? I mean, my point is, what the fuck is the point to all of this thinking? This thought? Keeping tabs on shit? I mean, I don't feel any more connected to my dad than I do to the crickets yanking their dumb violin chains. I mean, at least with them I feel annoyed. I mean, with my dad I also feel annoyed, but in a different way. Like, I mean, why didn't he spend more time with me? I mean that, I mean, I don't mean that, that way. What I mean is, like, I mean, okay, you have a kid, shouldn't you spend some time with that kid? Like maybe when they become an adult you would want to at least care a little bit about what they are up to? I mean, whatever. I don't want to talk about this. I mean, not because it is upsetting, I will just get lost in it all. I mean, I could only do my best as a kid, but it is your parents fault to do better, right? Kids don't know shit. And then when they become adults, I mean, I feel like it is also your fault to stay engaged. But whatever. You can't cry over spilled milk or whatever. I mean, I am not mad at my dad, I am just a little annoyed that my body is buried in some shallow grave in the badlands outside of Lander and he couldn't give two shits about it. I mean, at leas the crickets are here right now. I mean, not really, because of the rain, but you know what I mean. I mean, I am here all alone and I don't need to be. I shouldn't be. But because of the way life works, I am here, all alone. I mean, not scared, but you know what I mean, I mean, I just would like a little help somehow and instead all I got is this lonely motel room. Dangling here. Waiting for the next thing that is coming along. Which, I mean, I won't lie, it does not look good. I mean, I can hate my dad all I want, or whatever, it won't change anything. I mean, my time is limited anyway. I mean, if I was smart I would just let that go and focus on the things I have control of. Which, I mean, is nothing, but still. If I was to really think about it, I mean, I wouldn't want to go out of this world with a heart filled with hatred. Even if that hatred was basically just annoyed hatred for somebody that as far as I can tell tried the best they could given the things they had. But still! That is my point. Did I not try the best I could with the things I was given? I mean, did he not give me these things? Is it not somehow his fault that I am dangling here in this skanky motel waiting for my lights to go out? I mean, I guess when I get to the other side we can have some words. I mean, that is about as much as I can do. As far as things are concerned. This theory that there is actually another side to get to. I mean, for all I can tell, even in the big beyond there is nothing but waiting around for shit to happen. I mean, if in fact my body is lying in a shallow grave in the badlands outside of Lander fucking Wyoming.

I mean, whatever. The rain stopped. And guess what? The crickets are back. Even louder than last night. I mean, the rain must have really gotten their boners flaring. I mean, this is insane. There must be hundreds of them. Where the hell are the mice? I mean, I think that, but I don't know if mice eat crickets. They should. I mean, maybe they taste bad or something? But still. If I was a mouse, I mean, there is so much food to eat here. I can hear them in the room. I can hear them outside. I can hear them way out in the field that is past the parking lot. I mean, it really is a melee of crickets here right now. I mean, why don't they just go to each other? Why do they just stand there playing their stupid violins? I mean, if only half of them would get on the road and go over to the other half their problems would be solved and they could shut the fuck up. Am I right? What are these creatures? I don't get it. I really don't. I mean, they all can't be inferior mates, right? Some of them must be getting laid. Right? But, I don't think they are. I mean, maybe they are chirping for some other reason? Out of sadness? I mean, maybe they are like me? Stuck in some dangling nonsense. Not knowing where to turn. Having no one to turn to. I mean, I guess if I could, I would make all sorts of noise. To let people know I am here. To come get me. Help me or something. I mean, I won't lie, I would easily take a mouse coming to eat me alive instead of what I have. Because at least then I would feel like I was something in this world. I mean, as it is, I am nothing. Just some eyeballs and earballs on the inner workings of some skanky motel. In Lander, Wyoming of all places. I mean, I don't even think Lander is so bad. I mean, I keep saying that, Lander fucking Wyoming, but that was before. Back when I had a chance to get out. I mean, Lander isn't so bad. I mean, if I had my chance again I would go out there and kiss the towns feet or something. I mean, maybe even run for mayor. I mean, I don't care. Lander is just fine. They have a great swim team. The basketball team from the Reservation used to be pretty good. I mean, they don't really have much of a reason to come around. In the grand scheme of things. But so what? People are born here. They grow up. I mean, I can only assume that the Matron is from around here. Danny. I am kind of from around here. Sniffles. I mean, life goes on for the most part. I mean, I might make a great mayor of Lander, Wyoming. I mean, given the choice. Given the choice of getting murdered and just dangling around in a skanky motel room or becoming the mayor of Lander, Wyoming. I mean, I would take mayor. I mean, I really would. The town isn't that bad. I mean, I feel like I have been shitting on it for days now and I apologize, because I don't really mean it. I mean, Casper is no better. But Casper at least has the interstate. But still. See! I am still talking trash about Lander. I will stop because it doesn't do me or you any good. I mean, the town is just fine. They have a lively downtown area. A top notch swim team. I mean, what is there not to like? I mean, Go Lander Valley Tigers! I mean, whatever. I feel like I am laying it on a little thick, but still. I mean, fuck, I am kind of in a pickle here. I mean, I am still slimy. Still protruding from what I can only assume is my soul. I can only imagine that the lights will go out for me at any second. Yet I dangle. Like some dumb salty booger in this skanky motel room in Lander, Wyoming. See! I can be nice. Let me try that again, in some skanky motel room in beautiful Lander, Wyoming. The gateway to the Wind River Reservation. I mean, I could be great at tourism. Spend my time fighting racist bullshit. I mean, there is a gold mine here as far as a destination is concerned. It just needs somebody with vision. On the White side of things. Which, the second I say that, I mean, everything is hopeless. The White side of the Wind River Reservation. I mean, I can't be mayor. Not because I think that doing race based tourism is a smart way to go, but because I even had the thought. I mean, I feel ashamed just by saying those words. The Reservation doesn't need a Great White Hope salvation, it needs to be treated as an equal. I mean, and since my knee jerk solutions to these very complicated problems are to do the very worst idea thinking, I mean, I would make a horrible mayor. Even if I wasn't just dangling from this corner in this skanky motel room. I mean, I am very much on the outside looking in. But still, I guess with the remaining breaths I have, maybe I won't talk shit about Lander. I mean, I guess it is complicated. I suppose. I mean, here I am talking shit about my dad, then Lander and then saying racist shit with my last remaining breaths. I mean, maybe I do deserve what is coming to me? Maybe I am no different than Sniffles or the Matron or Danny or the murderous business couple or even Tony. Not the parking lot Tony, but the jail Tony. I mean, whatever. I mean, what kind of world is this? Where I try to do tourist planning before I drop dead? I mean, something doesn't make sense. I mean, I don't get it. I mean, it doesn't matter if I get it, but you know what I mean. I mean, of all thoughts in the world, the ones I have right before the end are just idiotic tropes and delusions of grandeur? I mean, why not? Really. Why the fuck not? I mean, I never proclaimed to be some sort of genius. I mean, I can barely remember what happened in the last two days and I have been just dangling here with nothing better to do than watch everything unfold. Do you know what I mean? I mean, if anything I am an absolute moron. I mean, my life is complete garbage. I mean, fuck all that money that is in my duffel bags now. That Sniffles is counting in his mom's basement. With poor JuJu Beans cowering in the corner because she pissed on the carpet and Sniffles beat her because he didn't take her out on a walk. I mean, if anything I should be focused on that. In some sort of hatred that maybe will stick around. Like I can haunt that fucker. Even when he gets to California. I mean, I shouldn't be planning shit with the City Commerce about how to make more White people come to Lander. I mean, if anything I should also be thinking about how to haunt Lander. How to haunt this motel. How to get all the White people to move to Casper. I mean, if any town in Wyoming is a big hunk of junk it is Casper. I mean, the wind there alone is reasons to wipe that shit-town off the map. I mean, but even then, that is probably something that needs a little nuance. I mean, what the fuck do I know? I mean, all I have ever done in my life is get other people to do my work for me. I mean, there is a reason they say I have the softest elbows in town. And it isn't because I use lotion. I mean, whatever. It is going to be a long night. I think I will just listen to the crickets for a while. I mean, unless I drop dead by the morning. Which wouldn't be the craziest thing that has happened in the last couple days. But still. I mean, I feel as strong as ever, so, I mean, here's wishing.