Home > Life or something like it > Entry 07/18/2005 08:30:42 AM – Mentat 176

Entry 07/18/2005 08:30:42 AM – Mentat 176

07/18/2005
Entry 07/18/2005 08:30:42 AM – Mentat 176
 
     This has not been a festive weekend for the likes of me.  Sure, the beginning of the weekend went relatively well.  I totally veg’d on Friday night.  Saturday went pretty well; had it not been for the fact that when I had fallen asleep again in the morning, I had a dream about Will which went horribly wrong. 
     In that dream, I remember that he had come to visit me at home (at a home in Providence of all places — someplace near to where I used to live on Atwells Avenue).  I remember that I had snuggled up against him outside during the day in the dream, and that I had told him several times that I had missed him terribly.  Will seemed to have been happy to be with me, but towards the end, I recall him saying to me that I hadn’t provided enough evidence to keep him there and that he had to go.  I remember asking him — even begging him — not to go.  But he said he had no choice, and that until I had provided more evidence, he saw no reason to come back.  I remember crying in the dream.  I remember half-waking up and balling my eyes out before I fell back to sleep…  And when I finally did wake up I cried some more about how much that dream had hurt.  It set a somber and dark mood for the rest of my Saturday. 
     When Sunday rolled around and I needed to run the errands, that’s when things went south pretty quickly.  Sure, it started off rather well…  I did the lazy thing most of the morning.  Then as I was heading out to the store to pick up a couple of much needed groceries, I had inadvertently stepped into the middle of a fire ant nest in the grassy knoll of the sidewalk in front of the complex and proceeded to be bitten by about twenty or thirty of the little buggers.  Granted, it wasn’t as bad as the time when I was working at Excelletron, but it was still pretty vile as I had reacted with the usual elevation in blood pressure (someplace in the vicinity of 150/90 and above) and pulse (120), and had turned several rather healthy shades of red in the process.  This had passed mostly by 2 in the afternoon after having to take a rather cool shower and having to use what little caladryl I had in the medicine cabinet. 
     So, once the blood pressure and pulse returned to normal, I realized that I had a couple of dollars in my pocket, and thought that it would be cool to get out of the house for a little bit, and mingle with some of the local queer folk.  I mean, it’s been almost six years since the last time I had gone out, and that time was a hell of a disaster with Rick. So, I took a ten-spot, my ID (sure it was expired, but considering the amount of gray and the lack of hair that I had, I severely doubt that the bartenders would ask me to verify my age), and my MARTA card, and headed once again to the stop to head down to Burkhart’s for just a beer. 
     Burkhart’s — as usual — was relatively quiet for that time of day.  Gone was the free food that they used to serve for Sunday, in order to serve liquor on Sunday.  But since the City of Atlanta had corrected the issue with the liquor licensing, they were at least open in order to serve.  I was left mostly alone during the one beer that I could afford.  About halfway through the beer, I had been hit upon by someone named Steve (yeah, like there aren’t enough gay men named Steve in the world).  Looked like a hustler, acted somewhat normal.  Black haired, brown eyed, and fairly attractive (if I wasn’t still pining away for Will, and I didn’t sit there seeing Steve for his issues and idiosyncrasies). 
     Steve had excused himself and said that he wanted to get [another] beer and that he would be back.  I nodded, took a swig of my beer, and as he walked behind me, I thought that I felt him rub up against my ass. I turned to watch him walk away and realized that he has something in his hand.  I then checked my back pocket and realized that he had lifted my ID and what was left of my money from my pocket.  I saw red and rushed up to him to stop him and get my money and ID back. 
     He tried shrugging me off. 
     I demanded he give back my ID and money. 
     He said that he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about and started walking away.
     I grabbed at him again and told him he knew what the hell I was talking about, and demanded he give me back my ID and money. 
     Because this was happening outside, and it was just out of range of the bartenders, none of the employees there didn’t see anything that was going on.  But one of the other patrons, an older man who I didn’t ask for his name, had come out to the back door to watch. 
     Steve had tried walking away again, demanding I get back.
     I got in front of him and demanded I get my ID and money back.
     Steve attempted to shove me out of the way. 
     I stood my ground and stopped him trying to walk away. 
     He took a swing at me. 
     I blocked it, and gave him an open palm hit square in the nose. 
     His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he went down.  (This is the first time officially I had ever had to use all the martial arts training that I had taken almost two decades ago.  Amazing what I remember of it after all these years.  Although, I will admit that I’m glad that I didn’t have to swing a kick at him.  I’m sure I would’ve torn ligaments in the process). 
     The man that had been watching came up to stop me from attacking again standing between me and Steve who was down on the ground.  He must’ve been moving when Steve took the swing because he was upon us quicker than I had expected. 
     I had looked at the man and said, if you check his pockets, you’ll find he has my ID and about six dollars which is mine.  He told me to sit down and called for one of the bartenders.  As Steve was coming around, one of the bartenders had come up and asked what the problem was. 
     I gave him the run down.
     The bartender asked Steve to empty his pockets. 
     Steve didn’t, really.  He took out my ID and the six dollars and threw it at me. 
     The bartender escorted him out.
     The man that had been watching it had tried making small talk with me, asking me whether I was all right, and all that. 
     I remember answering some of his questions, and apologizing to him telling him that I wasn’t really in the mood to talk, as I was still more than a little irritated that someone tried to pick-pocket me. 
     He smiled, nodded, and left me alone. 
     The bartender walked back, asking me the same questions (whether I was all right). 
     I nodded and told him that I would like to finish my beer. 
     He asked me whether I was going to press charges, because if I was, he would have to call the police. 
     I told him that it wasn’t likely, as I had gotten back my money and ID. 
     He asked me to leave that moment. 
     I was momentarily incensed that I was being asked to leave, as I was the victim in this, but kept it to myself.  I nodded and left. 
 
     It took me some hours afterwards to get my blood pressure down again.  In fact, I was pretty livid for the remainder of the afternoon and some of the evening because of it. 
 
     (Looking back on it, I’ve come to the conclusion that they may not have actually escorted Steve off the premises as I had first thought.  I think that they may have been holding Steve in the back office, while they determined whether or not I was going to press charges.  When I said that I didn’t, I guess they wanted to make sure there wasn’t some sort of repeat performance out in the parking lot.)
 
     When I got home, I had changed my mind about doing the laundry Monday when I got home from work, and decided that I had enough time to do laundry before cooking supper, and headed over to start.  Getting there, I saw on the door that they will be closing their door next Monday.  I was pretty shocked to see this, as I had gotten rather used to seeing the current owner (and his family) working the place in the last year.  But given the economy and the drop in business in the area, I will admit that it wasn’t totally surprising. 
     Thinking back, I remember back when Dan was still living with me, that the Laundromat had closed its doors for a couple of months before a new owner had taken the place over (as we used to drive either to Dan’s parents to do the laundry for that month, and the couple of times we headed over to the Laundromat by Kroger in Toco Hills).  While I admit that it does put a crimp in what I need to do during the weekend, I’m not totally put out of place and having to schlep all over town to get my laundry done.  At least there are two places (at least) within 5 miles of the house.  There may be more, but I’m going to have to look into it…
 
     So…  It’s Monday…  The stings from the fire ants are really beginning to annoy me now that I have to wear shoes and socks.  I don’t want to be here because, once again because it’s the summer, I had stayed up entirely too late.  (Couldn’t help it, once I remembered that Angel and Buffy: the Vampire Slayer).  It would appear that I had missed a particular Angel episode during the Wolfram & Hart years. Sort of glad that I missed it, as it was a pretty petty episode of Angel during World War II.  Buffy on the other hand was the lead up to Graduation Day, which has always been a favorite of mine. 
     Too bad that there’s nothing really on until the fall.  As I’ve mentioned in various chat here and there, it would appear that most of the broadcast networks are going to be pushing for the ol’ aliens-invading-earth conspiracy stories.  Lovely…  And just when I thought I had finally gotten over the dreams that I was having along those lines.  Guess I’ll be looking forward to having them all over again.  *sigh*
 
     That’s about it for the time being.  Until the next time…
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