  Right, so i skipped a couple of days. You didn't miss much, save for Blinding Pain!!! Ugh. I think that when i become totally immobile, it has something to do with the weather. Pressure changes, or mositure changes, i don't know, but now I'm seriously thinking of places i can move to which have very sedate weather.
Ideas? Besides the Blinding Pain, I have done much at all. I was in bed, feeling sorry for myself and occasionally lamenting that ginger ale doesn't seem to cut it for curing all my ailments anymore. And I'm back to unsleeping, it's all about napping sporadically. So today, let me tell you a story. It's working title is Lucas and The Fat Kid. Most of you probably know it, but I'm telling you to shut up and deal.
I was living in Cowtown, at my asshole uncle's place. The timeframe was the Beginning of Suicidal Summer. Not a particularily great time on my list. But this was slightly before the shit hit the proverbial fan. I was doing my turtle thing, I didn't know anyone in the city, I didn't want to meet anyone, and i shunned most human contact. Most days I sat in the back yard or my room, and read. Occasionally i planted things, and painted other things.
I took Lucas for walks, we hung out the the backyard together. It was before school was out for the kiddies. I used to watch them walk up from the bottom of my road in my turtle way. There was this one kid who was my next door neighbour. He was twelve years old said my mom, his parents came from jamaica said my asshole uncle, and I said 'That is one fat kid. ' It was his discerning characteristic. He was tall, and he was fat. More fat than tall though.
His parents were friendly, he was shy, and quite often my family would hear exchanges between his family, although there was a bit of lawn and, well, walls to go through. They weren't mean folks, I'm positive they were nice to their son, The Fat Kid, but merely were outstandingly loud in their verbosity. The fat kid, as far as we could tell, didn't talk much, or, seemingly at all. Despite his long legs, he'd always be dead last shuffling up the hill.
His jacket hung off one shoulder, he skuffed his feet when he walked. I feel the need to say at this point that he was NOT pathetic, or sad, or even lonely; it just seemed that while other kids were perhaps marching to different drummers, he might still be looking for his. It was May, and i was sitting under a few trees, reading either 'Mere Christianity' or some book by his holiness, the Dalai Lama.
Lucas had dug himself a little spot in the yard, and he was happily basking in the sunlight. Through the slats in the high fence dividing my asshole uncle's yard from the Jamaicans the fat kid had spotted Lucas. He started calling to the The Prince of Dogdom in the most melodic voice i had ever heard; 'Heeeeeeere, Doggie Doggie Doggie....' He'd wait a minute or two and call again.
He got Lucas' attention, but he wasn't about to trot over to the neighbour's yard. When we first moved to the City, Lucas and i had a long talk about how going into other peoples' spaces was not a good idea, and neither was wandering the roads. He's good about obeying instructions. Lucas instead of walking over to the Fat Kid, came across the yard from where i was sitting in the shade. We discussed the various benefits and detriments of going over to vist the Fat Kid, and we agreed that when the Kid calls, Lucas was more than welcome to keep him company. So, Lucas walked back to where he was seen by the kid, and he waggled at him. (Lucas has a very fetching waggle). The Fat Kid exclaimed happiness at seeing Lucas again, and Lucas waggled even more. When the kid called Lucas again, he gave me a wink, and off he trotted.
He spent many an afternoon that summer at the Fat Kid's place. I spied a bit, and Lucas would be buried beneath adulation. The kid had the biggest, whitest grin, and he sang songs to lucas, all afternoon long, while stoking and petting Lucas, and feeding him leftovers. (I'm pretty sure the Fat Kid's mom was not so impressed with this. ) The songs were always a tune made up by the kid, and floated gently across the summer days.
Hours and hours they would sit together like that. Even now, if you were to sing, in a melodious voice 'here, doggie doggie' Lucas would have a special waggle for you. He misses the Fat Kid, and i bet when he dreams sometimes, he hears the tuneless singing, and feels the love that fat kid has for him. If i could go back in time, I would have loved to meet the fat kid. His kindness, and love for my dog, and his sedate way of shuffling up the street is etched on my memory.
If i could go back in time, I'd tell the kid Lucas' name and the stories about him. I would have helped him convince his parents to let him have dog of his own, and Lucas could teach that puppy the secret ways Lucas has. I'd let the kid know that Lucas loves him as much as he loves Lucas, and no matter where i go in this life, I will be grateful for his kindess, and his singing that made him happy, and made me happy.
I would have learned his name, too. It is the little things that break a person down, but it seems to me that the little things can help a person up, too. I miss that kid, and his singing, and his soft voice while he said nice things to the dog. And I really hope good things are happening to him and for him. on a completely different note: Granger, I was not on the computer yesterday, and I completely, utterly and totally forgot about your drumming dealio.
I'm sorry. 
