“Stop it!” I yelled out to myself. Sometimes I had to hear my thoughts in order for the thoughts to be heard somehow to my body and mind that were craving various things because of vices I had obtained. I had started to self medicate right after my Daddy died. I was the only one to call my Father that term of endearment. The only one out of fifteen children which said, Daddy unabashedly. One of two that did not go to the funeral of their Father. My other sibling was out to lunch, a casualty mentally to the United States Post Office, my Brother giving even more credence to the saying, “Going Postal.” I had my own reasons of why I did not attend my Daddy’s funeral. I was and would always be called the Baby. Here I was, hittin forty like a mug and still being called, Baby. I guessed it could be worse.
The various induced chemicals I would partake in were becoming a hindrance to my being. To my well being, and that was no good at all. I was either always feeling tired or my stomach was upset, or like now tonsils bothering the dog shit out of me. Had no health insurance whatsoever, so there was no need to go to the doctor, I had went a few times before, two times to the emergency room for palpitations and another two times to my family physician for Tachycardia. In every instance over 500 dollars, so over two thousands dollars all together. After the last time I said to myself, I would have to be damn near dying before thinking about going to another emergency room or doctor. And each time only giving me a prescription and on one occasion giving me a 500 milligram of Motrin and sending me on my broke ass way. I knew how it worked. I had spoken to some other doctors in social settings and they had asked one question, “Did you have insurance?” I had told them all, “No. What difference does that make?” The various doctors I had spoken with in some form or another just said plainly, “The Doctors want to insure payment not only to themselves but to the various medical facilities they work for so if you don’t have insurance and you are not wealthy, the doctors treating you are going to do as little as possible to get you out of their perspective facility. The medical world is not as ethical as it used to be. It’s all about the green. And most often than not, no insurance means no green is going to come their way. That’s just the way the monkey swings on the trees these days. Plain and simple.”
It was some fucked up shit, but I knew one was conditioned to work in the corporate environment, when one tries to break free they suffer a penalty, no healthcare, no good credit rating, no house, no wife, no car, no American Dream and in great peril of being homeless.
But it was getting worse by the day anyway. People were not giving a damn. My mindset started to get the same way, but I had to do a reality check. I knew sooner or later, unless I died instantly from some sudden illness I would have to go to the hospital for something with my aging mortal self. I was getting older by the minute and I had pains now boy! Didn’t know whatever happened to that young athletic man I used to see in the mirror everyday? I would smile at the older and of course now aging body of mine. I still would not change anything for the world. There was only one person that could live my life, myself. I took a lot of satisfaction from that, like everyone should, can’t no one do the damn thing like you, I would say to myself. There was and will always be only one like myself and I had been looking at that person for some 40 years now.
Forty years! It seemed all a blur to me. Sometimes I would think about things that had transpired when I was in high school and it only seemed like yesterday. Really. Now, I am getting days all mixed up, and years for god sake! A year was 365 days long and I would often forget what year I was living in. Sad awhile, I thought.
Psalm Jackson. I thought of my name often in life wondering what in the world my parents were thinking about when they had named me? But I had found out my Mommy loved her some book of Psalm! Lord have mercy on that darling piece of work my Mommy was. Even to this day, at the age of 90, still having all of her faculties, could quote a scripture in a second, and oh how much information she contained. But still, Psalm? Come on now! But, “It is finished! Amen!”
I looked up at my high ceilings in my apartment and I wished I could push them all the way to the sky, so I could look out and see the world, heavenly. A wondrous site to behold I was sure. Looking at the mothah fuckah from ground zero, now that was some definitely ugly shit. People were ugly; spirits all tore the fuck up! Taking their given vexations and angst out on everybody they came in contact with. All I could think of was, “Why don’t you just stay your Black ass at home if you are going to act ugly!” They never did. It seemed as though the more people were frustrated the more they wanted to go out in the world and share the ugliness. “Stop The World I Want To Get Off!” I forgot where that saying or lyric maybe came from but it was appropriate. I also remembered a song that had the line, “We’re on a plane to nowhere…No matter where you go, there you are…” I liked that. But it did absolutely nothing for the situation I was in and would be in until I died, depressed, hopeless, broke and just fuckin tired!
I breathed in slowly, trying to meditate. Brain was way to active for that meditation bullshit so I did what I did in these times, I found my pack of Gauloise and indulged. Just one though. I was up to about two packs when I changed from lights to a full flavor brand, Gauloise about three months ago. If anyone could smoke more than ten of the very strong French cigarettes I would have to say, it was only a matter of time before something very detrimental to their health would come about. I remembered I took the first drag off of the first one I’d ever had, and had inhaled like the Lights I was used to. Mistake! I coughed with tears coming out of my eyes. Harsh as hell. But it did do the trick. I only smoked now when my nerves got way too edgy. Needed to calm them the fuck down, and here I was trying like hell to stay away from the cannabis delecti for at least 30 days because of these sorry ass bastards wanting to drug test every poor mothah fuckah like myself just to work an eight dollar an hour job. Shit, the President doesn’t get drug tested, nor does congress or the house or supreme court justices, the fuckin cops…The fuck! Fucked up times ten!
I inhaled just slightly more than the last drag, still caught a little in the back of my throat from the harshness but I relaxed, exhaled and got a little light headed from the square. I remembered Gauloise was a little different back in the day because the manufacturer produced every cigarette with a natural cotton filter, plus it was a little wider gauge than how they produced them now, still strong as hell, but when they had the cotton filter it seemed not as bad somehow. But back then too I was smoking Marlboro Reds so what the hell!
I had to quit. Chest hurtin like a muh fucka. Tongue after scraping it with a tongue scraper, well I used a kitchen butter knife, would result in this brownish-yellowish buildup that would come off after scraping. Nas-to-the-ty! Teeth taking on a very unattractive yellowish hue. Mommy would call it, corn on the teeth, but she would say the word ‘corn’ like ‘keyarn.’ She still would say it to this day. Oh, she never avowed that to me, I never knew why she hadn’t. Mommy was almost like a child, saying truths but not meaning any harm, just saying what she observed and expressed it accordingly. No malice ever being the eventual causative effect. But even if it was, Mommy was entitled to say whatever she damn well pleased, as far as I was concerned being how long she had lived and what she had seen throughout her life. I smiled thinking of her like I did most often. The memories of Mommy and Daddy always a good feeling in my soul. I kept them close though my Daddy had passed I still felt his presence, and the golden smile he had. That one gold tooth on his upper plate twinkling as my Father would be laughing or smiling from some witticism someone or my Daddy would have said. I missed my Daddy.
A tear came down my face as I smoked and looked up at the ceiling of my small, small apartment. One o’clock in the afternoon and I was acting as if I had not a care in the world, like I really had time to be sitting, well laying on my futon and not being productive. One of the rich with my broke ass! The cigarette was almost gone so I took one good last pull and extinguished it. Turned back on my back again, exhaled and had a very good crying session.
I had awakened for no other reason because my back was killing me from the cheap Wal-Mart futon. Never again, I thought. Darkness had fallen over the sky. I had slept another day away. Nothing accomplished but another pity party with myself and the souls that visited me on a regular occurrence. They always having enough courtesy to let me sleep for at least a little while. I didn’t know why they bothered me. There were so many people out there that were way more exciting. Way more interesting. But maybe that’s why they came to visit me, I had time to listen while everyone else faced the rat-race everyday for the rest of their life. Thinking somehow their perspective jobs were secure in this insecure working environment. I was still depressed, the sleep had done nothing but to make me more aware of the ticking time that forever was a backdrop in my life. Time just moving, while I stayed stagnated. Unmotivated. “Damn that!” I said aloud looking at my pack of Gauloise, my nerves were shot, I rolled off of my futon, put on my shoes and hit the door.
I drove to a local gas station, and went in. “A pack of Camel Lights please! In the box if you have them. Thank you.” I paid and while walking to my car I started taking the cellophane rapper off the top. Got into my car, found a lighter in the glove box, and fired one of the cigarettes up. I inhaled without reservation knowing how it would taste, being much smoother than the Gauloise. Couldn’t take those muh fuckas no more today, well this evening. I took another drag, put my car in drive and went home with a slight smile on my face. It's the little things about this life, I thought to myself.
When I entered my apartment, like usual, I wanted to just start with my futon and throw most of the shit out! Just start chucking shit. Fuck it! Start the fuck anew! I had noticed throughout my life people hung on to too much shit! Accumulating things that weren’t pertinent or not needed in the grand scheme of things. Oh, I didn’t believe in people not taking care of their own stuff but people saw things as more important than human beings and I never wanted to get there. Just like my car, I only had liability on it, if something happened to the thing, broke down…whatever, I would give it to the “Cars For The Blind,” and call it a day, it was pat and turns from then on out. No problem. I remembered when I was younger, always washing and waxing my car, vacuuming it out…fuck that! The car I had now I had not washed it since it had been handed down to me some three years ago. Point ‘A’ to point ‘B,’ that’s all I needed a car for really, to get me where the fuck I was going and to get me back from where I had went. Oh, back then I was tryin to impress the ladies. Like now, the ladies paid me no attention, Eagle Talon or repossessed Eagle Talon, I drove a Chevrolet Beretta now with my broke ass.
I didn’t smile too much anymore. Oh, I smiled but it was this smile that I had been working on all my life, a friendly, no problems in the world smile. The “Hi yah doin Ladies? Yeah, yeah, I see yah with your fine ass!” kind of smile. I remembered all the time people would ask me, “Are you all right? Is something wrong?” Something was always wrong but I didn’t want to share what was going on inside of me, a depressive state for no other reason than to be depressed. I didn’t know what the fuck to tell them that would make sense so I noticed that if I gave people a teeth filled smile, the questions about my feelings ceased, so I smiled this grand beatific smile for all the world to see because they really did not want to hear my moroseness. Shit, I didn’t even want to hear it and it was going through my mind all the time. Constantly.
My lord, I thought! It was very dark in the room save for the light from the computer screen. She had scared the holy shit out of me. “What chew doin'?”
“Shit,” I hollered out and turned to see she was eye level with me while I sat, she had been looking over my shoulder. She was a cute Little Lady.
“I’m so sorry Psalm. I didn’t mean to scare you,” She had said with the cutest voice.
“No need to be sorry Little Lady. I should be used to it by now. I just didn’t expect any of you for a little while. I remember you all used to only visit at certain times but its anytime now. I should have known. And I’m sorry for cursing,” I said.
“You don’t have to be Psalm! My Daddy would cuss at me all the time. I have spoken with the others and they said you were a nice man to visit. Everyone seems to like you! So I thought I’d come and visit for awhile since I noticed no one had your ear yet,” she said, and giggled just slightly.
I smiled back. “Well as you can see, I’m not your Father and I would not cuss in front of a Little Lady like you if I’d known,” I said.
“That’s so sweet! I wish I could kiss you right on the cheek,” she let out a little shy giggle again, “So what chew doin’?”
“Just writing that’s all. Getting some things out! I have to or I will go mad if I don’t. And we wouldn’t want that would we?” I said, still smiling at the Little One.
“I can leave if you need to finish…” She said.
“No. No. Don’t do that. I can finish this anytime. And I don’t think I have been introduced to you before. What’s your name?”
“Sarah,” she said.
“Don’t tell me. Your parents were very religious too!” I said.
“How did you know that? That is very eerie how you knew that,” she said.
“Oh, Sarah, stop it! Don’t you see? I’m Psalm and your name is Sarah,” I said.
“No, I don’t get it. You see, I was only eight when I passed away. I’m still learning though but I don’t get what you are trying to say,” She said.
“You and I just have biblical names that’s all. Like in the Bible,” I said.
“I know what the Bible is silly,” she giggled again and continued to stand next to me, “Oh, I get it, like both of our names are in the bible and that is where My Mommy and Daddy got mine from. And your Mommy and Daddy got yours from!”
“Right on Little Lady! You got soul!” I said and I held up the black power sign.
“You’re funny. I wonder why I haven’t visited you before? You are very nice. And easy to talk to. I like you Psalm! I see why everybody else does,” she said.
“Well, thank you. And you are sweet yourself. Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“Sure! I have nothing but time Psalm.” Sarah said.
“Okay, every soul that comes to visit me the first time knows my name. How’s that?” I asked.
“Oh, silly. We know it because we are still very courteous to the living. Well some of us are. You see, if I was to just say, What chew doin, without saying your name you might get intimidated. So as to be polite and so you will welcome us back again, we say your name so you may know that we are here. I told you everyone likes you. You are never going to be without company. Ever! How much everyone speaks about you,” she said.
“I don’t know if that is good or not.” I said.
“That is very good. I have found out, though, I haven’t been here long, that if you are not liked, no one visits you and you have no, I think they called them, creative thoughts. Just, ‘going with the flow’ as Uncle Jimi told me,” she said.
“Who’s Uncle Jimmy?” I asked.
“Oh, Jimi Hendrix. He told me he could play the guitar like nobody’s business in the living body. He says he misses being able to play his own music, ‘cause nobody can strum those cat hairs like I used to do!’” she paused shortly to giggle again, “He doesn’t talk to too many of us. He is still in his transitional period like they say I am,” she said.
“Jimi Hendrix! The man! He never lied to you on that one Sarah! The man could play it behind his back, with his tongue…I never saw him play it with his toes but I’m sure he could!” I said.
“You know Uncle Jimi, Psalm?” Sarah asked excitedly.
“Don’t know him. Know of him! That’s it! Yeah, he died very young, way before his prime which is scary to think about what other kind of tunes he could have spit out!” I said.
“Spit out?” she asked.
“Recorded. You know, before he died. How many other albums or songs he could have left for us to listen to,” I said.
“Oh! I understand what you are saying, but I never could listen to music, or watch television! I was even home schooled. I was only able to read and write. So we have something in common. You were also writing when I arrived,” she said.
“Yeah, a way to quell the noise going on inside my brain Little Lady,” I said.
“Noise? What kind of noise is that?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Let’s just say it is one of my hobbies,” I said.
“He said he would find a place where we could listen to his music but we haven’t been able to find too many people playing his songs. So when we hear it echoing, we follow the echoes until we are where the music is coming from and usually when we get there, the person has started listening to something else. He is kinda of bummed-out because he said he thought his music would forever be played all over the world based on the other, inferior guitarists, as Uncle Jimi would put it. That’s why they say he is still in a transitional phase because he hasn’t let go of the other body,” she said.
“Little lady you sure don’t speak like any eight year old I’ve ever met. It seems as though you are learning a lot,” I said.
“Some things,” she said and looked down kind of shyly.
“What’s wrong Sarah? Is there anything I can do?” I asked. Now, kind of feeling sad because I could not help Sarah physically, a hug, holding her hand…something tangible to make her understand that she isn’t alone in this life. And that was the problem I could not comfort her at all except with words.
“There was another reason I came to visit you,” she said letting the sentence fade at the end.
“What Sarah. I don’t know what I can do but I’ll sure try,” I said.
Sarah looked up, eyes wide open, “No! I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go and find Uncle Jimi and talk to him about it. Then I’ll bring him back for you to meet him. Okay?” She said.
“Jimi Hendrix? You gonna bring Jimi Hendrix to my home? And you comin back with him?” I asked, still in disbelief. I didn’t know why a guy that used to be of his caliber would be visiting a ‘cat’ like me because there were all kinds of guitarists or musicians…hell, a lot of people, he could visit and talk to.
“Of course, silly. I’ll see you later when I find him. Kay?” Sarah blew me a kiss, turned and vanished.
“Mothah Fuckah! What the fuck is goin on?” I said out loud to myself, now that Sarah was out of earshot, as I continued to look in the direction where Sarah had disappeared, while I fired a Camel Light up and inhaled mightily.
It was lonely sometimes when there was a lull, maybe five sometimes twelve hours before one of them would visit. And if I were asleep most of the time when I awakened I might wake up and see a soul looking at me until I was oriented, ready to talk. But sometimes it was like most of the time I would wake up and see a congregation of souls in my apartment talking to one another until I had awakened fully and they would all greet me and let me in on what was really going on in the spirit world. And likewise I would get them up to speed on what is really going on mortally. So it was like trade-off really. Though they could experience all of this themselves it was still like they were in contact with a living that understood what life is really about.
I remembered speaking to a soul and they had informed me of what the real afterlife is about, there were two really he had informed me. “One, like I, who was killed or died in some instance or another, we are the real ‘dead’ souls. But then you have others whose souls are dead and that are now in the afterlife, but they have a chance at anytime to get back within their regular life until mortality ceases to that individuals soul’s human body. So, as you can see Psalm, you can have déjà vu. You see you can see spirits while you sleep or awake and they pass in and out of your consciousness, and the living dead souls are still walking on earth amongst all of you. Just a shell though. Nothing there, save for something that might trigger them to come back to their mortal body.” (to be continued)
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