MONDAY, 5/3
I knew that Monday, 5/3 was going to be a tough day for me. It was the day I was planning to return to the scene, my two block hell for a year and half.
I took the train downtown from Waban, stepped off and began walking from my old T stop, Kenmore. I stopped and turned around halfway up the stairs. I found myself looking around for an old lady to help or a homeless person to talk to.
I was stalling.
With no one in sight, I walked up and mingled among the throngs of people headed to the Sox game. I mosied into my old record shop, where I had purchased the UK version of "Rubber Soul" on vinyl for $14 (best purchase of my life). I made my way to my street but before turning I stalled again, this time to call my mother. I just talked to her, told her how I was, where I was and that I was indeed, again, stalling.
Finally, I made my way to the old place. It was odd... I would turn suddenly and see a tree, or picnic table, and I'd have to shake it off. Like, I thought I was having a nightmare or Vietnam flashback. No, this is real life, I'm actually here. My God... but it was okay. I put on fresh goggles. I took pictures and posted them to facebook. I looked up towards the 6 story roof of my apartment and laughed about my opium-induced, suicidal thoughts that crept in when I wasn't looking back on that one night in the spring of '06. I don't think that I was seriously thinking about it, but it was as serious as I had ever thought about it and it haunts me to think that the thoughts even crossed my mind because I love life, I always have, even at that moment I knew I loved life. I just wanted out and had no idea how to get there.
I walked around the stadium. It was a gorgeous night. The area has improved. There's a Guitar Center a block from where I lived. I loitered in, strummed some chords, played some piano and didn't buy a thing. This is what I usually do in a Guitar Center.
The plan was to hop on a train around 9 pm before the game let out and make my way to an open mic at Lizard Lounge (where my hero, Michael Penn had played) for a 2 song performance. Call it resistance or fatigue but I wasn't really all that excited about it.
I guess I looked alone, maybe a tad forlorned... his energy reached out to my energy, for whatever reason.
The passerby in his mid-twenties said to me, "You want a ticket? I got an extra ticket."
"No man, I don't have any money."
His friend says, "He'll give it to you for free, he just wants to to give it to someone who'll appreciate it. Will you appreciate it?"
They could tell instantly that I would, because I want you to picture my face lighting up like a Christmas tree right now, which it did.
"Yes! Wow! Thank you!"
The three of us walked together to the gate for a few seconds, and again I said "Thanks, you guys". The second guy reaches into his pocket.
"You say you don't have any money on you? Here - get yourself some food and some money." and he gave me $40 worth of gift certificates.
"Really?"
The guy who had handed me the ticket smiled wide at me and said, "Jesus loves you, man. Jesus loves you." Now I'm like a little kid, ecstatic, in shock and disbelief and so happy that this is what God and the Universe has planned for me for this evening. Rather than open mic for a night of pseudo work, I'm going to be treated like a spoiled little rich kid. Nice.
They had to go in another direction, so I said thanks again and just walked in. Still in shock, I "bought" a hot dog and a coke. I realized that the park wouldn't just redeem my certificates for cash, but they'd give me cash as change. The certificates came in $5 increments so I purposely spent $6 here, $11 there to get the max amount of change back. I thought about paying it forward... giving some of them to a family, or military... but I didn't. I kept them for myself. I don't know why I did that. I did, however, give money to each and every street performer I passed after the game.
The game was a blowout, the Sox won 17-8. I couldn't have cared less about the outcome.
At every home Sox game in the middle of the 8th inning, they play "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond and everyone sings along. It's a tradition here. I went down to the seats behind homeplate (after purchasing 3 bottles of water to get my maximum amount of change) and walked the aisle parallel to the field. I looked back at all the people singing and with my water, I sang back at them. I belted it out, pumping my water in the air. It was such a fantastic moment and it may sound cheesy, but Boston and I made up with each other right there. They said they were sorry, and I said it's okay, and we joined arms and sang Neil Diamond together.
I realized that I placed a lot of anger on Boston that was really meant for the circumstance I was in, as well as myself. Yes, this place is harder than most other places. That's truth. The weather sucks and so on... but in reality it's just another big stinky city with unhappy people and shitty weather, just like Chicago, or New York, or Detroit, etc. I placed the anger on Boston because I "had" to forgive my circumstance and the abuse it was putting me through and I "had" to forgive myself for tolerating it. It was easier to hate the city than my circumstance. At least that's what I've gathered so far.
Ah, self-awareness. I have so far to go but at least I'm finally going.
And "good times never felt so good".
TUESDAY, 5/4
I thought about what happened Monday. That and Mr. Ernie Harwell died.
To every boy and girl who grew up in Michigan loving the Tigers, he was a 3rd grandfather.
Love you Ernie. Thank you for everything and Godspeed, you beautiful human.
BUY JEREMY'S 2006 ALBUM "WHAT A DAY!" AT WWW.CDBABY.COM/JEREMYFACKNITZ!
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