I and George are sitting outside in my backyard upon my wrought iron chairs (no, I was not drinking). It is a very hot and muggy day and soon we will have to escape back inside. We are talking of the recent events I have undergone in my life lately.
“Dat be some fucked up shit,” George replied. “I would tell your father to kiss my ass. You don’t need to be incarcerated.”
“Committed,” I replied correcting George.
I certainly hope I am not incarcerated any time soon.
“Well, it be the same damn thing,” George replied.
“Yeah, you are pretty much right,” I replied.
“We need to get your ass a job and an apartment so you can say fuck all dat crazy ass shit,” George said.
“I will lose my SSDI though,” I replied.
“Hell, you are smart. You could work anywhere I think,” George said. “And hell, if you lose your job then just go find another.”
“I will think about it,” I replied. “I just worry that I will have another episode with my mental illness and can’t work. It is scary to think of.”
We sat for awhile longer as George sipped on a cold Colt 45.
“It sure is hot today,” I replied changing the subject. “Have you seen Ferret lately?”
George laughed.
“I am glad you asked about dat crazy ass nigga,” George said as he smiled. “He has been picking up aluminum cans to get them recycled for a few dollars to get a drink. Dat nigga has been busy. I see him all over town.”
I smiled at the thought of Ferret busily running around town picking up cans.
“Ferret could work a job with the amount of work he will have to put in to get up enough money recycling cans,” I replied.
“I know. Ain’t dat some crazy shit?” George replied as he laughed again. “I told ya dat nigga was crazy and to stay away from him.”
I sat and thought of my own bouts with schizophrenia. Mental Illness is just some fucked up shit as Sherman would say. George had finally finished that cold Colt 45 and got up to leave.
“Hang in there, my man,” George said. “And don’t let yo pops incarcerate you.”
“Committed,” I replied once more correcting Sherman.
“Same difference,” George said as walked towards his car. “Hey, the food would probably be better in prison. You could always rob a convenience store and get on the inside.”
“Now that is some crazy shit,” I replied as I scoffed. “We will not go there.”
George drove off to go do what George does on a daily basis. It was very good to see him today. George has a “street wisdom” that escapes most of the people in my family and in middle class suburbia.
No comments:
Post a Comment