Greg Giraldo - forever awesome

i was bummed to hear that one of my favorite comics died this past wednesday, greg giraldo. it was a shocker to me and i'm sure many others cuz he was only 44. he was still touring, still active, and had just released a comedy central special within the past year.

when i first learned of giraldo, it was completely accidental. my friend marylee offered to burn me a mike birbiglia album on cd (2 drink mike). when she brought me a copy of that cd, she also had burned me a copy of greg giraldo's "good day to cross a river." i listened to both and what marylee had accomplished was burning me copies of what is now 2 of my favorite stand up albums of all time.

"good day to cross a river" is such an enjoyable, hilarious, kick ass comedy album. it's smart and hilarious, brave and honest. as i watched and listened to more giraldo throughout the years after that, i learned that this was just the type of comic he was, and i was a huge fan.

there's a few comics who have inspired me heavily to give stand up comedy a try of my own. greg giraldo ranks high amongst that list.

i was looking forward to many more years of greg giraldo. unfortunately nothing's ever promised..... anyone can go at any time... that's just a shitty fact of existence.

but i'm glad that giraldo came into our existence. there was a time in my life when i thought intelligent stand up comedy died with bill hicks. but giraldo was proof that wasn't true. intelligent comedy was alive and well and giraldo was one of the torch holders. he's one of the most brilliant comics of our time, if not, all time.

later greg. thanks for the laughs.

The Naked Lunch Challenge

I just finished reading 'Naked Lunch' by William S. Burroughs. It was a book I had borrowed from a friend years ago. But I couldn't finish it. All I read was garbled up madness that I could make no sense of. I got somewhere in the 60's on the page count and threw in the towel. I told my friend I couldn't finish it and she said I could hang on to it. She said she couldn't finish either. Wow, so it wasn't just me.

That was years ago, probably at least 2-3. At the time of borrowing it, I wasn't that avid of a reader. I had just started really getting into reading. I saw the book on my bookshelf and figured that maybe at the time of reading that book, I was jumping in the deep end too soon. I was also out of books to read. So I challenged myself to read it and get through it.

I can confidently say that I still don't get 'Naked Lunch.' It makes no sense to me. I got through it but sometimes I felt like I was spiting myself. The book went on and on and, except for moments here and there, I never really enjoyed the content.

However, I do dig it's lack of form. The book doesn't follow the rules. It reads probably just like what it actually is. It reads like a free wheeling, stream of consciousness description of the creations of the imagination of a man who's been consumed by the most hard core of drugs.

The book is also viciously filthy. Which is why I think it's such a landmark book. It's contents caused such a stir that it was taken to court and put on trial. This book helped tear down walls and took part in a fight to ensure that our freedom of speech also existed in literature and art. For that, I commend it's filthiness and how it contributed to our society overall.

After all this writing, I still feel like I've done 'Naked Lunch' no justice. It's an experience and the only way you'll know about it is to do it! If you haven't read 'Naked Lunch,' step up! Take the challenge! Tell me all about it at the end of your trip.

And if you have read it, I'd love to hear what you have to say about it. This book is divisive. There's only two types of people in the world, those who have read 'Naked Lunch' and those who haven't. I definitely want to hear what other people have to say.

A Rosey Ending to My Previous Blog (The Sky is Falling.....)

When I woke up from my slumber on that same day my bathroom ceiling was repaired, I was experiencing feelings of relief and relaxation. I finally felt for the first time since the ceiling had fallen that I could chill out, relax, and do some nothing for a while. Time went by till about 8:30pm. That's when I realized that I needed a new shower curtain since I had thrown my old one out (it was completely filthy from the debris falling around it).

I figured this was no big deal. I'd hit the CVS around the corner from me and I'd pick one up. Get in, get out, it should take me less than 20 minutes in total. That wasn't the case once I actually got to CVS. They were reorganizing the whole store and moving aisles around. The place was a mess. It was totally disorganized and there were entire sections of shelves with no products on them. I walked around aimlessly for 15 minutes in denial that I couldn't find a shower curtain. Once I finally accepted that there weren't any to be found anywhere in the store, I decided to move my search elsewhere.

I hit Bergenline Ave, a main avenue in my town with tons of stores along it. I had to take a short bus ride to get to the heart of it. I got off the bus only to find store after store had closed at 8pm. Any place that I thought would possibly have a shower curtain for sale was dark inside with locked doors. I was starting to feel deflated. How would I go about showering without a curtain? That would be madness!

I decided to make one last ditch effort and hit a Walgreen's I knew of. It was about a 10 minute walk to get there. When I started to approach the entrance, I noticed my brother and his wife, Alli walking out of the same Walgreen's. I screamed my brother's name out.

"YO PHIL!"

From there we conversed and I filled him in on my search for a shower curtain and it's tragic results so far. That's when Alli said she had an extra shower curtain at home she could give me. Awesome! She said it was very bright with flowers on it. I was in no position to be picky, only thankful that my search took an odd twist to lead me to a very convenient ending.

We drove to their house, picked up the curtain, and then they drove me home. I went to my bathroom to hang up the new curtain. Once it was up, I stepped back and took it in. As bright and flowery as it was, I was simply happy to see my bathroom looking like an authentic bathroom again. In fact, the flowers and bright colors really light up the place.

So that's it.... that's my rosey, colorful, flowery ending to this whole story.

Thanks for the shower curtain! It really ties the bathroom together.

the sky is falling (in my bathroom)

It had been an awesome Saturday. It started with a free tour of a local brewery (NJ Beer Company). Then I met one of my best friend's new born daughter. After that it was on to an all you can eat sushi / Japanese food buffet. the night ended with 3 games of bowling at Bowl Rite lanes in Union City. It was a full, fun filled day with my girlfriend and a few friends that left me fully exhausted by the end of it.

The night ended with me knocking out watching TV at home. My girlfriend had knocked out in the bedroom. We gotten in around 2am and started our slumber somewhere around 3am. All was good until about 5am. I was in a deep sleep when all of the sudden I was rudely woken up by loud crashing noises in my apartment. I didn't know what it was that just woke me up. But i bounced up and off the couch scared that something terrible just happened. I ran to my bedroom screaming, asking if my girlfriend was alright in there. I ran in and she was fine. She had also been woken up by the loud crashing. We briefly shared a, "what the fuck was that," moment and then I continued to search for the source of the crashing.

It didn't take me long to find the cause. I opened the door to my bathroom. I tried opening it all the way, but something prevented me from doing so and the door was stopped at the half way point. I turned on the light and was horrified by what I saw. About a third of my bathroom ceiling had collapsed and fallen to the ground. My entire bathroom was covered in chunks of ceiling. My bathroom and sink were filled with chunks of building innards. I could hardly see the bathroom floor that was buried under the debris. The only clear spot seemed to be the part of the floor I had just pushed back as I was opening the door.

My girlfriend and I stood there in shock and assessed the totality of the destruction. After a few moments I started grabbing at bathroom amenities that were covered with a layer of ceiling junk; the toothpaste, the soap, the mouthwash, the clock radio I use to listen to music while I shower. I heard a buzzing sound that was driving me crazy. I was frazzled and paranoid that the buzzing was coming from my toilet. I was scared the debris landing on the toilet somehow broke my toilet. I was relieved when I realized it was my pulse toothbrush that had been turned on somehow during its fall to the ground.

It was 5am and I figured at this point in the day, there was no one to call and nothing to do to fix this situation. I decided we'd try and snooze for a bit and wake up at 8am and make some phone calls. Sleeping wasn't easy at first. I was shaken by the whole turn of events. But in reflection, I was glad that neither my girlfriend or I were in there when it all happened. If one of us had been showering at the moment it happened, we would've surely been hit by pieces of ceiling as they fell from the sky.

We slept for about 3 hours. The whole time I was dreaming about what had just happened. I had dreams of me calling my super in the morning. I had dreams of what would be done about it. In one dream, things weren't going so smoothly and it was taking multiple days for my super to fix everything in there. I woke up and went back to sleep 4 times, each time I was unable to reset my brain. No matter what, my brain was consumed by my bathroom that looked like a war zone.

(I try not to use the term 'war zone' lightly. That was my first thought when I first flipped my bathroom light switch on. It looked like North Bergen, NJ had just suffered a bombing of some sort. I took a video on my cell phone of the damage. It's only about a minute long. CNN could take the footage and splice it seamlessly with other stock footage they show whenever they're reporting on an area that recently suffered a missile attack of some sort. No one would be the wiser.)

I woke up at 8am as planned and called the building's owner. No answer. Called the super. No answer. I left the super a voicemail and tried to call the owner one more time. As the owner's phone was ringing, the super was calling me back. I answered and explained to him what had happened. That in itself is no easy feat. English is my super's second language, and he's not all that fluent in it. I've called him for little things here and there before and each time communicating what was wrong over the phone was always a challenge of some sort. He also has a reputation of saying he'll show up and then never does. You have to call him a few times to get his assistance. This was an emergency though. I had to communicate the fact that this was urgent. This couldn't wait. I can't shower till this is fixed. This can't be ignored for three days.

I had successfully communicated the urgency. It took a couple of hours but one of the super's maintenance people showed up at the door. He rang the bell 5 times in a row at about 10:30am. I was relieved to know that the recovery was officially under way.

I let him in and he asked, "What's the problem? Is it a leak or something?"

I told him, "It's a lot more than a leak. I can't explain, but you'll see."

A few seconds later he was shocked to see the damage. I wonder if the term 'war zone' came to mind when he saw my disheveled, unusable bathroom. He took a look at the damage and told me that nothing could be done till tomorrow. He said he'd show up with a couple other guys first thing in the morning. I accepted the fact that nothing could be done sooner. He left and the clock started ticking. I wouldn't have a fully functioning bathroom for at least another 24 hours.

My girlfriend and I had considered cleaning the piles of debris and chunks of ceiling. But we quickly changed our minds and decided against it. I was pretty pissed. I know it's not my super's fault the ceiling collapsed. But the building I live in is old and falling apart. Since I've been here, the owner has never made any attempt to keep the place in good shape. It's his building and his investment. If his ceiling is going to collapse on me at 5am on a Sunday morning, I wanted no part in the clean up process.

Sunday went by much like any other Sunday, except I felt dirty. Otherwise it was all standard procedure for the weekend. I watched football. I drank beer. I ordered Italian. My brother came by for a while to hang out. The Jets kicked the Patriots asses.

I decided that I was going to call out from work the next day. I didn't want to go to work without showering for 2 days. I'd rather hang around and make sure my bathroom was attended to as promised.

I was woken up early Monday morning by the doorbell ringing multiple times. As promised, three dudes were here to fix everything up. As soon as they settled in I decided to go to the laundry mat around the corner and do some laundry. I figured it'd beat sitting around the house waiting and watching as three guys fix my bathroom up.

Laundry took about 2 hours. I came back to my apartment and as I was coming in one of the dudes was coming out of my apartment. He told me they were done. I was impressed at how speedy they were. I was scared it'd be an all day process. I went inside to check it out. It was surreal to see my bathroom not covered in ceiling debris. There was my floor and there was the bottom of my tub and sink, not covered in junk. There's my ceiling looking whole and complete.

I decided now was as good a time as any to give my bathroom a good cleaning. I was totally exhausted and spent by the time I finished with that task. I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since Friday. I had been sleeping in 2 and 3 hour chunks here and there. I knocked out and caught some of the greatest sleep ever. I woke up feeling fully refreshed and ready to blog about the whole ordeal.

It's now about 6:37pm on Monday. I still haven't showered. I'm letting everything in my bathroom fully dry and set into place. I know that steam and humidity from showering could have a negative effect if it's too soon after my new ceiling had been put into place. I patiently wait for tomorrow when I wake up to get ready for work. I'll probably wake up a little earlier than usual. One of the greatest showers of my life awaits me.

Now that it seems this whole experience is behind me, I find myself suffering from a slight phobia of my ceiling falling again. In fact, it might be a while before I ever fully trust a ceiling anywhere to do its job and stay up above me. I might never shower or brush my teeth the same way again. I'll always have an emergency, "Duck and Take Cover With My Hands Over My Head," plan ready to go at any moment just in case a ceiling decides to give up on me again.

Death Row Rewrite

Tomorrow you'll wake up to the good news. The papers, the man on the TV, the articles on the web, they'll all proclaim that good has once again triumphed over evil. That justice has been served and a bad guy got what was coming to him, what he deserved, what he earned. Tomorrow you will all feel a little bit better knowing that a tiny percentage of evil on this planet has been vanquished forever. And I don't blame you. Who wouldn't take comfort in that?

They asked me what I wanted for my last meal. I had oddly had this planned out for most of my life. Just one of those odd things you think about when your mind goes astray and there's nothing else to occupy it. I didn't ever want to kill anybody. But I did like the idea of a meal where I could get whatever I wanted, my perfect meal. I wanted a Thanksgiving feast, but with no turkey. I wanted the sides. I wanted the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the corn, the yams, the biscuits, the cranberry sauce. I wanted a slice of pumpkin pie. But what I really wanted most of all was to replace the turkey. Get the turkey out of there. The turkey was the centerpiece of Thanksgiving dinners my whole life and I never understood why. It’s such a boring meat. This time I would have my say. This time I’d have it my way. I’d stick a thumb in the eye of all convention and they would listen. I wanted pizza. I wanted real pizza, like the kind you get in Jersey. And I wanted it smothered with pepperoni.

I read tons of books. I’d read through books at a hectic pace just hoping the bad guys won in the end. Those sorts of books are few and far between. But every now and again I’d come across one. When I didn't, I’d write my own alternative ending after completing a book. I’d kill the good guys, the good family, the good kids, the good friends. I’d burn the good neighborhood, the good church, the good ‘mom and pop’ fruit market. The gangsters would outlive the cops who chased them. The dragons would smite the knights that challenged them. There was no cure for the disease. The miracle medicine that shows up in the last few pages would only make things worse. All the prayers, the leaps of faith, the hard work and dedication would always go to waste.

Some people would label that sort of literature as tragedy. And that's what I was. My whole being was a tragedy. The only thing that ever made me feel better about myself was to cause more tragedy. I was infected and it was too late for me. All I could ever do was spread the disease. Rehabilitation was out of the question. This was my joy. This was my hobby. This was my craft. And I loved every moment of writing when I was destroying all that was good and pure and just.

There is no justice. It’s all a farce, a theatrical production. It’s all built to construct happy endings that inspire joyous standing ovations for an audience of innocent victims. Well done judges, jury, lawyers, officers, witnesses. Well done to all the actors who play a part. We really won them over this time. They’re throwing us roses. The critics are in speechless awe. We did it again.

I’m a common drunk. I haven't had a drink in years. But if I came into this place a drunk, then I will leave this place a drunk. Years of not drinking cannot take that title away from me. It doesn’t seem like much. But when I look back, it was perfect. My life was exactly what I wanted it to be. Go to work just like anyone else. I’d carry luggage for tourists. I’d hustle for extra tip money. All day I’d think about getting out after work and blowing off some steam. Most nights I ended up at Stan's Corner. Shoot a game of pool. Play some songs on the jukebox. Drink a few beers. Shoot the shit with my buddies. I'd do this more nights than I wouldn't. It was simple and it was filled with good times…

…plenty of good times, until that one night. I left Stan's after closing, around 3am. I was mad about some pool games I lost to Billy. I had gotten cocky and let the betting get out of hand. He let me double or nothing twice. He beat me all 3 times, right in a row. I lost $450 that night. I don't know what i was thinking. That second match didn't seem like such a bad idea. After i lost that one, I figured I’d come so close the first two games, that I was due to win that third match. But I didn't. I lost. I spent the rest of the night noticeably angry. But I continued to hang around and attempted to drink my sorrows away. That only made me feel worse about the whole thing.

When I left for the night, I got in my car to drive home. That’s when I made the worst decision of my life.

I woke up the next day to my door bell ringing over and over and loud knocking at my front door. I got up but was dazed and slightly hung over from the night before. I quickly threw a shirt on and ran to the door.

Minutes later I’m in a precinct being questioned by two cops in a dark room with a two way mirror, just like you see in the movies. Officer Diaz and Officer Grant would go on to tell me how I got in my car and drove to the Ramada downtown, my place of employment. I parked in the lot and waited for my victim to come out. As soon as I saw him come outside by himself, I got out of my car and stalked him as he walked the local streets for a late night stroll. When I saw the right opportunity, I attacked him from behind. I dragged him into an alleyway and beat him brutally. I knocked him to the floor and in a fit of rage slammed his head face first into the ground repeatedly. I stole his wallet and left him for dead on the ground.

The body was discovered early in the morning and that is when the cops were called. With no identification, they had no way of knowing for sure if he was staying at the Ramada. But he seemed out of place so on a hunch they checked with the hotel staff. They had to take pictures of him, with his face looking like processed meat, and bring it to the hotel to see if any of the employees could identify him. Sure enough, they did. Surveillance camera video was confiscated. That’s where they saw my car pulling in and pulling out. That’s where they saw me follow him until we both walked out of the camera's view.

They ran the license plate number and sure enough found out my identity. They questioned employees at the hotel about me. Inevitably questions were asked about what I do after work. Someone mentioned Sam’s. The rumor mill at Sam’s was in full swing by the time a cop walked in there around 10am. The morning patrons had heard all about my financial loss from the night before and how angry and drunk I was. They were all too willing to talk about it. I never liked the day time crowd at Stan’s.

I sat through interrogation and tried to play it cool. I played the denial game and remained as silent as possible. I let the officers go on and on, waiting for their exhaustion. Finally I felt a lull in the room. I asked for my one phone call.

I called the Ramada front desk. The operator, Cheryl, picks up.

"Ramada Inn, how can we help you today?"

"Put me through to room 520 please."

"Will do! Please hold."

A woman picks up, "Hello?"

"Mia! I'm so glad you picked up. I need your help really, really bad. I’m in a jam. The worst jam of my life. You wouldn't even believe it. But I need you to come down to the local precinct and tell everyone here what I was doing, what we were doing, in your room last night."

"You've got to be kidding me! I can't do that! If my husband finds out, forget about it! He’ll kill me!"

"Kill you?! They’re really going to kill me here! Listen, they think I killed someone last night. And if you don't set the record straight, I’m fucked! Super fucked! Like going to jail for life, or death penalty fucked! Do you understand?!" I was practically on the brink of tears.

She turned cold on me, "who is this? I don’t know you. Stop harassing me! I’m hanging up now!!”

"Mia, c'mon!! You’re being unreason----,"

She hung up on me. My one phone call was finished. I went back and held my head down in shame.

Turns out calling Mia would be the second worst mistake I made in that 24 hour period. That phone call sent her flying. She disappeared leaving behind no traces of her existence. For all I know, her name wasn’t even Mia.

I tried to explain what really happened. It was of little to no use. With Mia no where to be found and with no way to prove she exists, there was no way to prove or even persuade anyone that it was a huge coincidence that I was walking in the same direction as the victim in the same camera frame. It was too hard for anyone to believe that on that same night this poor man was brutally murdered, I was conveniently in the same hotel he was staying at enjoying a random sexual encounter.

The police mocked me. The papers called me a liar. Even my public defender doubted my story and constantly questioned my honesty.

But the hardest part of it all was dealing with my mother. She was the only one who believed me and it hurt me to even see her, never mind talk to her. My mother’s trips to visit me filled me with sadness and pain. I wanted to be happy to see my mother. But I couldn’t stand her tears. I couldn’t stand to watch her break down in front of me. Here I was waiting for my execution, and I had to be the strong one.

As bad as those visits were, nothing crushed me more than when those visits were done and I would watch my mom walk away. Even if those visits were only filled with tears and pain, it was the only real human connection I had left. I love my mother and it was the only time for the last part of my life I felt anything good at all.

It broke my heart to know that my final memories of my mother would be her stuck in a state of permanent sadness. I knew that once I was gone, a part of her would be gone forever as well.

The trial was a circus. I was guilty before I walked through the door in my orange jumpsuit and chains on day one. The evidence and public outrage against me had piled too high. There was no way the jury would budge. I sat in my chair next to my two bit public defender watching as my whole life was destroyed for a couple hours of passion.

And so I’ve waited in this cold, lonely place. I’ve waited as my date with doom approached closer and closer. The day I’d find myself in that cold chair in front of an audience, anxiously anticipating the moment when the medicine will run through my veins to forever take me away, making the world a better place for all.

"Do you have any last words?"

"Yes.

Today an innocent man will die before your eyes. I did not kill that man. Somewhere out in the world his killer or killers remain at large. The guilty party remains free to roam the streets and live their lives while I’ve rotted here for years in my innocence. But maybe I’m not totally innocent. I am guilty. Guilty I had sex with Mia. Guilty that I enjoyed it. Guilty that I preyed upon a seductress who would rather see me die than to plainly admit to our lustful sins. Who can blame her? It’s so much easier to deny her crime against her husband then to do the right thing. Mia, you got your way. You got out of this easy.

To the family and friends of the victim, I apologize. I apologize that the world is cruel enough to create the kind of evil that did what it did that night. Rest assured I’d have sex with all the married women of the world before I’d kill an innocent human being. But in your minds and hearts I’m guilty. There’s nothing I can say in my final moments that will persuade you otherwise. I hope they find the real killer. But they probably won't. As soon as I’m dead, a victory will be claimed. You will all go on with a certain peace in your hearts that justice has been served and evil has been dealt with. My last breaths will bring you closure.

But in a way you are all the same as Mia. You all had sex with me, but in your own special way. You got off on me while my life went to shambles for no good reason. And just like Mia, you're taking the easy way out. After I’m gone, I’m still innocent. There’s only one person in this entire room that knows the truth, and soon I won't be here anymore.

I’m ready. I’m sick of this world. Kill me in all my innocence. It’s the ending I’ve been writing for years."

"there's a line" guy

first impressions are concrete. you can't take them back. whatever you decide to say or do in your first encounter with any other human being can never be unsaid or undone.

that's what happened with "there's a line" guy, a dude i should not even know. a man who should have passed through my life like the thousands of other anonymous run-ins and brush-bys i will have throughout my life.

on the day it all began, i was early for my bus to work, early enough that i could enjoy one of my guilty pleasures in life, breakfast at mcdonald's. their menu is fully stacked for breakfast. a menu that's so great, they can't offer you anything that's on it past 10:30am. on this day i was gonna go all in and eat big. i was gonna go for the deluxe breakfast with hotcakes and a large orange juice.

i walked into the mcdonald's with a purpose. pleasant thoughts of me devouring a tasty breakfast occupied my mind. i was a dude on a mission, ready to chow down and enjoy! as i walk in, i notice there's two cashiers and a slight crowd waiting in line. i hop on what looks like the line to the cashier closest to me. i stood there silently waiting, gathering the details of my order in my head so i would be ready to order quickly and efficiently.

suddenly, coming from behind me, a guy yells in my direction, "hey hey! there's a line!"

i turned around and realized that i had mistakenly cut in front of half the crowd. in a moment of extreme social awkwardness, i was speechless. i stood in my spot to assess the situation, quickly said, "oh," and moved to the proper back of the line.

i could have said something, anything to try and make the situation a little smoother. i could have offered an apology, but i didn't. it just didn't cross my mind in that exact moment. i went totally blank.

(before moving on, i would like to state for the record that i have no qualms with "there's a line" guy. he was right to call me out for cutting in line.

what bothered me was that i didn't say anything in response to him at the time, which made me think that possibly he thought i was just some stooge trying to get one over on everyone in the crowd. that definitely wasn't the case. i'm no cutter. i believe in order, especially when it comes to breakfast.)

so there i was now on the back of the line, feeling a little dumb about the whole situation. i had stalled and waited too long. an explanation at this point in time would sound stupid. i was going to have to let this one go and try to refocus on my deluxe breakfast with hotcakes that i was about to consume.

and that wasn't hard to do. i chowed down my awesome breakfast inside the mcdonald's. i enjoyed the meal thoroughly, all parts of it; the hotcakes, the sausage pattie, the hash browns, the eggs, the large OJ, and my favorite part, the biscuit. feeling refreshed and ready to take on my day, i left and walked towards the bus stop.

when i got to the stop, i noticed "there's a line" guy amongst the waiting commuters. i immediately felt embarrassed and avoided eye contact. i buried my face in a book and leaned on a wall by the bus stop. i figured this moment would pass as soon as we get on our respective buses.

after a few minutes of waiting, my 192 shows up. i pack up my book and head for the bus. about 3 spots in front of me on line is "there's a line" guy. unbelievable!! i have to ride the same bus with this guy too!! i got on the bus and headed hurriedly for the farthest back seat, only to find he took the seat right in front of it. it was too late. i couldn't move back to the front. that would make me look like a fool! so i grabbed the seat right behind him, sat down and buried myself back into my book, waiting for this all to end.

it did eventually. i got to work and the rest of the day went on like it usually does.

then the next day when i went to the bus stop to wait for my bus, i noticed "there's a line" guy amongst the crowd again! i couldn't believe it! i stuck with the same plan as the day before, avoid any direct interaction with him.

this continued for days. i finally accepted the idea that this guy has probably been riding the same bus as me for months. i just never noticed him because we never had any sort of interaction before. he had gone from being invisible and non existent in my world to playing the role of "there's a line" guy.

one little stupid moment. one little stupid first impression. "there's a line" guy is now a part of my daily routine. i never say anything to him. we have nothing to talk about. as far as i know, i'm as invisible to him as he was to me the day before i gave him a name.

......then again, maybe to him i'm "cutting in line" guy.

a follow up to my previous post

SPOILER ALERT!!! SPOILER ALERT!!

if you have not read my previous post, 'my indifference smells awful,' then you probably don't want to read this post any further. it's a quick add on and afterthought to my previous post so go read that one first!

you've been warned!!

i started my day today by running into one of my neighbors who was just standing around outside. i asked her in passing, "can you believe that smell?" that was all i had to say to her to receive the full explanation of what exactly caused last night's horrible odor in my hallway.

she told me that my one neighbor had thrown some unused fish parts away. he put them in with his regular trash and for some odd reason, instead of bringing the garbage outside where it belongs, he put it outside his door inside the hallway to rot for a while. one of my other neighbors smelt the garbage and knocked on his door and asked him to please throw his garbage outside because it was stinking up the whole building.

he brought the garbage outside and the annoyed neighbor cleaned that section of the hallway with lysol, which seemed to do little to help. i can only imagine that horrific smell magnified without the help of lysol.

to tie this all together with a pretty bow on top, the neighbor who was responsible for the smell was the same neighbor i ran into the night before when i got in from work. as i was checking my mail, all he told me was that he opened all the doors and lit incense and a candle because of the awful smell. he decided to leave out the minor detail that he was the culprit behind this smelly offense. so by saving himself a little pride, i was sent away with just the slightest fear that one of my neighbors was dead and rotting away. this officially marks him as a, "he who denied it, supplied it," type of person to the fullest degree.

my indifference smells awful at the moment

i get in from work to find all the entrances to the building are wide open. incense is lit on a table in the hallway on the first floor. it hit me as soon as i walked through the front door. something smelt awful. it was beyond awful. it was putrid, enough to inspire a gag. i ran to get my mail in my mailbox and bumped into one of my neighbors. i asked him what that smell was but he had no idea. he just knew it was awful and putrid as well (he was the one who decided to open all the doors and to light a scented candle and a stick of incense in the hallway).

i get inside and my mind starts to wander. what could that smell be? at best, it could be someones cooking project gone horribly wrong. someone who had messed up a seafood dish so bad that they would refuse to be seen in the daylight by any of their neighbors until that smell went away.

but it was too rancid to be something cooked. it had to be something worse than that.

as i write this, i have no idea what it is. but the worst case scenario in my head is that one of my neighbors is dead, and their body is rotting away.

i usually don't see much of my neighbors. i work odder hours and am more of a night owl than most of the other tenants in this building. if someone hadn't been seen for a few days, a week, a couple of weeks, i'd be the last to figure it out.

just how long does it take for the smell of a rotting corpse to get bad anyways?

there's a slight part of me that thinks i should call someone, i don't know who exactly, maybe the police. but i know i won't do that. this is where my indifference kicks in. i convince myself that i'm just making things up and it's nothing as bad as the rotting corpse of one of my neighbors. there's no way that's the case and if i did call the authorities, they'd show up and think i was crazy. then i'm the crazy dude who no one ever sees during normal hours who called the cops that one time because i thought my neighbor was dead, but it wasn't that at all. it was just rancid fish dinner tuesday in a6.

but what if my neighbor is dead and i decided to do nothing about it? i caught the smell and ignored it so i could watch tv and write this blog in the peace and comfort of my apartment.

if my worst case scenario is true, then i would be the dude who's indifference led to family and/or friends finding out later than they possibly could have. sure, dead is dead, but they'd accuse me of insensitivity. if they read this blog they'd think i'm sick. if in fact someones relative or loved one is dead next door, not only did the thought cross my mind that they might be dead, but i ignored that thought and decided to do nothing about it. i did nothing about poor grandma or aunt so-and-so who makes the awesome peanut butter cookies each year around christmas time.

their loved one would be dead... most likely of natural causes of some sort. and with no killer, nobody to blame, this blog would put me in running to be their bad guy.

but this is all just the paranoid part of my imagination running wild. chances are a dead body is not the cause of that horrible smell.

all i know is something smells awful, and i'm pretty sure it's not my indifference.