FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE HURT BUSINESS: Or, meditations from the fucker as he ripped at the seems.

                                                                             
               

                               "I don't have much time for sympathy, cause it never happened to me."
                                                                                                                        -unwritten law                                             

                 Her mouth hangs open with the promise of some pleasure unknown, with pleasures of a gospel without verses. The dream is nice in that British sort of way, in that sort of way that it's not as funny as it thinks it is. It’s a painting in my mind, an image of a faith in humanity I can't deny in spite of myself. That even this mean little creature can be loved. That all the sickness can be sweated out sworn and thrown away with a communion wafer. The visions come and go as I lay in my bed stoned out of my mind smelling and looking like shit trying to make since of what I have become, of what other people have made me or of what I have made them make of me in my absence. And I don't know what to say and for the first  time I don't want to delete that and write some artificial vision or a design of inspiration. It plagues me now that I am not in control that I do not know what is going on. That the only peace I have is when I light up one of my cheap cigarettes and hope I’m not being punished for refusing the position my family has designed for me. That god makes since that this day will not always feel like the last of some identity that has long since left me. Then it hurts again, I feel it like Freddy couger ripping into my guts and spinning me like a key that breaks in the lock. I feel like a kitten who has jumped in mouth forward, belly swollen with sickness that regularly explodes out of both of my extremities. It’s Mexican seafood times ten. it's nasty. I don't care any more and you can't make me give a fuck.

                 For about three months I have gotten texts from a stalker, at first they were cute and funny but over the last two weeks they have gotten rather demented, climaxing with a sarcastic rant about me raping my neighbor Brian. After much hustling of identity and position my little brother finally admitted in a rather unambiguous text, to a question I had literally asked maybe fifty times who is this? With "haha Cody" then it came to me all at once that a twenty-five-year-old girl who I fucked in the bathrooms twice at work was fucking my eighteen-year-old brother who has no drivers licence no job and isn't on unemployment and she drives her kids to visit him in his bedroom. Or my family is so obsessed with controlling me that they decided to stalk me, were going to my work after I told them not to, were talking shit to my coworkers and then texting me back the shit they said, so that I would think it was someone from work. This would be normal if it wasn’t for the fact everyone I knew decided to not tell me about it. Lied to my face laughed at me behind my back and thought it for the best if not the extremely amusing that I never should be told of this.  Ether that or my little brother thought it was for the best to text me about mine and the midgets private details of our friendship after they fucked like animals. And again or my family has nothing better to do then fuck with a recovering drug addicts head. This was a hard pill to swallow even if I imagined and expected this was what was going on, the probability of literally all of my friends, coworkers and family would lie to me, on such a absurd level, left me with disbelief then a hatred I can only define as completing. I told him if him or the midget (just to cover all of my bases.) tried to contact me again that I would get the law involved. I then got a ride from a friend of mine to confront my mother over the twilight zone episode that my life has become. I showed her the texts I had been getting, she said that it was absurd that it could be anyone, to which I responded he says he's Cody she denied it and said she was going to drive me back to my apartment when my little sister had to be dropped off for gymnastic and when I brought the subject back up my little sister said "you’re the biggest dough bag in the family any ways drew." I then pointed out what exactly we were talking about. My mom then turned while still driving, pointed at me with a wild animal glare screaming "I’m tired of this bullshit you need to wait in your apartment and get a job!" I brought the subject up again she still not looking at the road yelled I am tired of this bullshit. Reaching my limit with an emotional retort I don’t regret “so am I” "how about I just let you out at this stop sign!" "fine." "Or I could just let you out right now!""I’m cool with that." I then opened the car door of the still moving Vehicle as she slammed the breaks slinging it forward, and latching it shut, out of pure hatred I screamed "fuck you cunt!" jumped out of the van and slammed the door as hard as I could. She screamed don't slam my door right before she said she was calling the police. I later found out that she said I cussed out my little brother whom I haven’t seen in almost two years and that I cussed her out and kicked her van. I walked to Knoxville and took a nap on a bench looking down on market square. I laid their listening to a man who played rock a’ billy from a amplifier he was sitting on. When it donned on me it’s only when you care that you get into trouble and that fear is the ultimate form of violence.

             I stopped by autozone to get a ride from my dad, so I didn’t have to walk the five hours it takes me to get to sevier county. I walked in with my hands raised like man with a gun pointed at his head. He stood there nodding his head, I told him my side of the story and he said he would give me a ride because he couldn’t stand to see me abandoned on the side of the rode but after that he was threw with me. I reached in my pocket to show him what kind of texts I had been getting but he refused to look at them. Then with a dramatic flare reserved for the theater I dropped my hand’s empty at my side and with the hopelessness of a child I said "I need to know what’s going on." There was actual sadness in my eyes when I saw how much he wasn’t going to tell me. He told me to wait outside. Not to sit on his truck and that he got off at nine. On my way back outside from using the restroom my dad stood staring at me nodding his head saying only "something new came out." His coworker seemed to have an unusual amount of sympathy for me. Paps wouldn't look at the texts the whole ride home, he said “you think you’re secretly famous and that your dying little brother is fucking a friend of yours who at one moment says she's pregnant with your kid and then says your stalking her, this is too much for us in the family, we just can't deal with it anymore. You need professional help." There is an absurdness that I find hard to believe in everything that has happened in the last year when it is said out loud. "I just thought guy gets into fight with his manager in the office at ruby Tuesday and it might make the local news." Then the absurdity sunk in again "maybe I do need help." He was quiet for the rest of the way to wards apartments, then asked me to just stay here till I get a job.
             
                 The maggots in my mac and cheese remind me how long it's been since I have changed my underwear. My parents have left me at my apartment with no gas and a flat tire and told me to wait here till I get a job. I have food now so it's not as bad, but things have been weird for a long time. People yell at me on the streets, or give me rides. The world seems far more connected to me now. I ask C.J. why people treat me so different, he says that my confidence has changed so much from getting into my first fight. I have free weed all the time. People make comments like I wont be able to get a job again. I have no way of looking for a job. I only have twenty-nine followers on twitter. One of my neighbors said that there not allowed to tell me some things. He said the midget might be pregnant with my brother’s baby, this is the only objective evidence I have that I’m not imaging their relationship. I was told I wasn’t allowed to talk to my neighbors. That I am supposed to come to my apartment and not leave it. I sell dvds to Ralph so I can walk to floyds market and buy cigarettes. My aunt texted me that this is the first day of the rest of my life. My land lady looks at me and says “who crushes a mans nuts in there hand, what did you want to feel them, are you a faggot?” I’m not sure if the only reason I was told that Jamie might be pregnant with Cody’s baby was they wanted to see how far gone I was. I hope I’m psychotic it would make more since. But as far as I can tell there is no legal action to make me doubt that all of the things that happened at Tuesdays were anything but real. I can’t sleep it’s been almost a month and I need to know what’s going on. I am writing this for the same reason that you throw up, feel free to judge it's literary merit. I walked past my mirror today and the face that looked back at me was scared and beyond the possibility of hope. The eyes that glared at me were full of regret and mischievous as hell, they whispered and screamed as I flipped off my own reflection “what-ever.”

            My aunt texted me that I had to walk to my grandfathers to get my rent money or apologize to my mom and if I did this she would take it to my landlady. I walked for three hours and when I got their my grandfather seemed shocked to see me. I asked for a drink, he said grab a mountain dew. I told him why I was there he said my mom was going to pay it. We walked out to the car and on the way I bumped into my little sister she said bye sarcastically and walked off as my mom, who just called the police on me for slamming her car door, laughed . . . my grandfather was trying to get me out of there fast. I told my dad as I passed him to sell my car, he said fine I told him I wasn't going to live in these apartments after this month. What are you going to do?  He said. I’m not going to live in these apartments after this month. He said fine and walked off. I told my grandfather about the texts I had gotten he said my little brother was just worried about me I showed him the texts that had to do with rape. My grandfather started talking about the snow on the mountains. And that he was amazed that I had walked as far I had. I got out of the car "don't forget your mountain dews" there are two sodas sitting in the back seat. And I have one in my hand. "I didn’t know those were mine" I said. I walked into my apartment and locked the door. I have wanted to kill myself for the last two weeks. I got stoned and took a xanax and said to myself “I should be in a asylum, or god should.” I start to think of the insane demands we put on other people, how much we expect in return for what we feel, how much shit we are willing to put up with just so we don’t feel alone. When I want to feel anything any more it’s alone. I have reached a point where I don’t have to rely on other people for my happiness, I’ve reached a point where I understand the words when I say “happiness is for wimps.” And the next time some girl asks me “oh come on, why won’t you fuck me?” I will serenade them with my eyes as I whisper “easy isn’t what I’m after.”



           She is a meanspirited hateful bitch and she is also my favorite person, in a [sic] world only the psychotics are sane and the midget is the sanest person I have ever met but she is also tiring. Reaching the limits of my patience ounce I yelled "you are like cancer and heroin at the same time." pissed off and sarcastic she says "I don't even think you can smoke something like that but if you did I can't imagine what kind of delus...illusions you could get from it." "Yeah well I’m not the only one who's delusional, you’re delusional if you think I’m gonna give you a free ride and raise a kid that isn't mine." She was walking away through this whole conversation till I had finished saying my peace then she pointed down at herself as if her hands were spotlights yelling "yeah, well I am always in the lead!" that's the thing about me I have to hear what I know in my gut, I have to have my intuition verified. Then she walks back "you could help me out tho" "I would but he'll knock me over the head...not literally but financially." Then pacing around I look down at her "anyway I hope it works out for you."  “FUCK OFF!" I am honestly shocked at how sincere she seems, even when she's bruised and bleeding it's just a game to her. I always felt like I was the bugs bunny to her gremlin with a hammer but I’m angry, for far too long our friendship has been nothing but her hurting me while I’m trying to get her out of the shit when she asks for help. "I don't like it when people mess with my money." It’s sadistic but that’s what she told me the last time I helped her, then I helped her, then she went back to doing the same shit. "Yeah, well you don't have to smile when you say it." I glare at her with one hell of a wicked grin and almost cough out "what smile? I don't have no smile." She starts flapping her hand like a duck "that's right keep talkin' keep diggin yourself in your never going to get out of this hole.” Twenty minutes later my manager tells Heidi he is going to run out to his car for three minutes, but Jamie goes out with him. The next time I see her im sitting a family from Texas who are staring at her like she is insane, she is looking at me her hair sticking to the side of her face which is glistening with Kevins sperm. I push threw my wall of disgust, my sadness and pity I have for everyone saying as I lay the menus on the table "ignore her she has a problem in her head." Then she smiles at me like a happy demon and I know I have to help her, even if she doesn't really want it. It’s a week later when I have heard something that makes me quite angry, I see Jaylo. "did somebody beat the fuck out of Jamie?” I ask. "she looks at me and nods her head. "Yeah." Me and Kevin are in the office he is looking at me out of the corner of his eyes when I point at him and say "you and Jamie have a complex relationship and I was just wandering did you beat the shit out of her." "You look like you wanna jump down my throat?" I notice that the knuckles on both sides of his hands are swollen red. "I do." "then go for it." "fine." Then I punched him in the face. I know god hates it when your violent but to quote a sadistic little animal “it all depends on how much class you have when you do it.”

                                                                                                                                   the epilogue


        I sold some stuff and walked up to floyds market, got me two packs of Newport reds it's not what I wanted but they weren’t l&m's. I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t have a monopoly on pain, I don’t even feel bad. When I got back, my father was standing in front of my car "what are you doing here!" I said. He smiled at me "I came out and fixed your flat and put ten dollars worth of gas in your car." I sat down on the gravel lighting a smoke, the amount of hatred I Have for these people, is growing exponentially as what is happening, starts to come out, he doesn't have any pity for me or he would tell me the truth, whatever that is. "Carlos said Jamie is saying she is pregnant with Codys baby." he flares up almost getting violent "Cody just sits in his room!" and I almost lose control "it's ether that or your messing with my head." I almost smoked a whole cigarette before he starts again "so what are you going to do become homeless?" "I don't care." "Drew listen nothing is going on, I just talked to Carlos, if we tell him what you said he is going to deny it." "I’m tired of dealing with ass holes." "Well there are ass Holes out there." I light another smoke "and I can walk away from them." It’s not going anywhere there is no way around a lot of facts, the fact they left me starving here, the fact they had my landlady harassing me to the point where she punched my door and told me I wasn't allowed to talk to my neighbors. The fact that these bastard’s would put me in a whole and put a bullet in my head if they thought they could get away with it. The fact I don't know what’s going on, or the fact I can never trust what they say ever again. "your mom is at Suzys where is that at anyway?" "I’m not giving you a ride." Not long later my mom comes back for my father. I don't say anything as they leave and somewhere inside, honest to god, I hope I never see the fuckers ever again. Most of the last two years I have lived in varying states of poverty, if it wasn't going to be December, I wouldn't even be worried. All I want is to forget everything and everyone that came before to enjoy this mess without letting myself be distracted by it, I’ve been dicking around with this whole being a musician thing for like a quarter of a decade and I think it's time to see what I’m worth. I have always had my ass kicked, I have always been on the bottom with the faith of god that I only did what I had too when the world asked it of me, when you say cream rises, I say shit floats.