Tired, hungry, sick and disconnected I went on an after hours hunt for food. These places were easy to spot, despite your state of mind, in the midst of new construction and parking lots stood a few, gothic style Catholic churches. The few places in the city which still leaves out bags of non-perishable food for the needy, and at that moment – I was needy. Although my needs were about to be superseded by a wild-card as I approached the closest church where I heard it before I saw it in the styling of Cypress Hill’s, Insane in the Brain,
Cocaine in the membrane, I got cocaine on the brain!
The veterans on the roof, for a while, began to even out and almost relax around me. About an hour and fifteen minutes into the dabs, then the standard pot as two pipes made their passes. This was topped off with a heavy indulgence of warm, canned Natural Light beer. I partook in the beers, as the pot would have made me incoherent and lackadaisical. I was working after all, and if I can do one thing, I can handle my booze. Although I would need to eat soon, but I was the only one waiting for breakfast now turned lunchtime. I rested on hope for my half loaf of bread that I passed off for sandwiches, which would never arrive.
Without Regards for Society
Between the beers I listened as they spoke at me, only Martins spoke to me. According to Martins, there was nothing worth worrying about this life that they have chosen. He had, “Turned back to time to the good old days,” or whatever that meant to him. Even so, he was the strangest case of the bunch, as he would sometimes speak with the confidence of a Non-Commissioned Officer. Then without warning, he would get lost in his thoughts, become sheepish, and fade out for a bit before returning to something near the point his was making. I still cannot quite put my finger on exactly what was the cause of that, beyond speculation. It may have been the war or a parasite – I didn’t have the means to diagnosis him.