More and more lately I find myself reminiscing about the past. I do this because I am so isolated and feel empty. The only thing that moves me is music. Music then brings back memories. I have not spoken to a human in over 36 hours. It is hard for me to make friends when I think I irritate or annoy people. I always think I have overstayed my welcome in a conversation or even in life. When I remember some of the more fun times of the past I don’t feel that way.
I know I have talked a lot about how bad things were from 16/17 until 36/37. Don’t judge my memory if you had drank as much as I did and had shock therapy you wouldn’t remember either. But not all of it was bad. Some of it was fun. Some of the people I met were actually good people. Some of the bad people I met were actually very ill.
So here are some stories to the best of my recollection some names have been changed and details left out because I either can’t remember them or it would give the person away.
One of the biggest personas I have ever met was man named Ricky. Ricky was probably 38 when I first met him and I think I was 18 or 19. He showed up at J’s house one summer day tan as tan could be, no shirt on, and the shortest cut off jean shorts my best friend W and I had ever seen on a man. They were daisy dukes. W and I looked at one another with wide eyes. He introduced himself, was polite, and sat down across from us. Of course he wasn’t wearing underwear. That pretty much sums up Ricky. He loved wearing women’s perfume. Why? Because he loved everything about women. I should think so because he had 10 children and only 2 had the same mother. He was charming with big sky blue eyes and dark brown hair. He was a fisherman but did it illegally (of course). If you asked any of them why they went to prison they would say “Illegal Shell Fishing”. They could’ve slaughtered an entire family and it would still be “Illegal Shell Fishing”.
Ricky always had a system. Somehow he had it planned so he would be out of jail in the summer and back in for the winter. The guards would take him to lunch at a local sports bar and grille where they would have a few beers and bring him back. He was on work duty. It was the craziest thing. This was still when they could lift weights and smoke inside. So Ricky would come out bigger and a little meaner every summer. I don’t think he realized the toll it was taking on him.
He always tried to feed W and I. His specialty was chicken and succotash. I should really just say succotash. How many times W and I have laughed over succotash I couldn’t count. That man took it seriously. He had the craziest taste in women. I remember one named Amber who frightened everyone including Ricky. She loathed W and I. She was a hardcore alcoholic who slurred her words even when sober. She was also loud. She looked to be in her mid forties but it was hard to tell. She wore too much make up and colored her short hair jet black. She had a harsh look. She was also thin but all muscle.
We could never tell if Ricky liked her or not. When he was supposed to be with her he was usually at J’s with us. One night he came over dressed up. This meant longer shorts and actual shoes. He had a polo shirt on too. He had a 6 pack of Bud with him. I thought to myself “how odd?”. He walked over to what was usually my chair, he bent down and kissed me on the cheek. He then whispered in my ear “These are for you. I would’ve done more but I didn’t have the money. You always give everyone yours, even me so I thought it was time someone gave to you”. He brushed my hair back and smiled at me. W arrived and we all started drinking. It was getting late and down to just me, Ricky, W, and Paul. I was playing John Mellencamp while J was asleep. I was singing and sitting in Ricky’s lap. It wasn’t in a sexual way, I knew he had 10 children and I wasn’t going to be the one to give him number 11. I started to hear something resembling a cat dying and my name. It was a very drunk Amber. As soon as Ricky heard her voice he threw me off his lap and hid.
I was drunk and stupid enough to go looking for a fight. The problem was when I opened the door and she saw me tears rolled down her face. I stepped outside with her. I told her nothing was going on with Ricky. I told her he starts drinking and telling stories and forgets where he’s supposed to be. If I saw him I would tell him to call her. She looked better, said thanks and went home. She would still continue to threaten to kill me but I knew she was hurting because she loved him. The problem was Ricky wasn’t capable of loving anyone. He came from a large dysfunctional family filled with addiction and suicide. I remember J telling me about Ricky’s family and me sitting there crying. He didn’t have much of a chance.
He had an older brother who was a heroin addict. This brother shot up his girlfriend and she overdosed. He couldn’t handle it so he overdosed. Ricky had another brother who hung himself and one more who was also an alcoholic/addict. Towards my later years at J’s I watched Ricky get worse. Going in and out of prison had taken it’s toll. He had starting using heroin while inside.
W’s old boyfriend was the last to see him several years ago in court. Ricky offered to sell him a watch for some drugs. He looked thin and old. I was sorry to hear this. Under different circumstances Ricky could’ve been anything he wanted to be. He was smart, charming, good looking, he could sell ice to an Eskimo. Deep down he was a good man. I hope he’s alive and well. I did try to find out but only found outstanding warrants which isn’t a good sign.
I don’t know if I should have a different blog for my Drinking/Alcoholism/Sobriety or if it goes hand in hand with Bipolar Disorder. I feel it does. Statistics show they usually go together but am I doing a disservice by not separating them?