Issac Newton

 

From Heaven To Hell And Back

I blogged the day before about how my decision to not drink that night had put me in a position to receive blessings that just wouldn't have been at the end of the other fork in the road.

I had stayed in, instead, and had randomly flipped open a book on "literature" that was one of the ones strewn across my bed, out of the 112 books that I have cracked open and read some of, so I can say that I am in the process of reading them.

The Buddhist parable that I opened the book to, seemed to give me a pearl of wisdom, which lead me to realize that I had been beating myself up over trying to make music that was going to impress and silence my critics.

Why were these critics dwelling in my head, in the first place?

An Eckhart Tolle video which started to autoplay after having been "randomly" chosen by the YouTube algorithm while I was in the kitchen (being shunted there from a 1979 promotional video for the AS/600 operating system developed by IBM at the time) where the subject matter was just that; people -parents, work associates, "friends," critics- who can live in our heads.

I put the word "randomly" in quotes, behind the theory that everything happens for a reason. And, if you believe in the dynamics of the mind being able to conjure up such things, you would believe that I was being rewarded for having chosen not to drink. 

Enlightenment had been hiding right around the corner all the time, but I never would have found it, had I chosen to walk the half mile to the store in the middle of the night for a bottle of wine.

An Equal And Opposite Reaction

As a further test of that notion; last night I did decide to go to the store for what turned out to be a can of Hazy IPA beer.
Then, I decided to walk to Rouses Market, since it was only 9:15 PM.

And...

My email To Rouses (just sent)

I live about 3/4 mile from store #29, which I've always considered the local alternative to the chain store across the street.
My initial impression was that the staff cared more about me, and one of my best experiences at a grocer was when a large black man in a white smock  answered a question about marrow bones knowledgeably, then; seeing that I was looking at roasts, said: "What a minute," and then came back with one with the sale price on it, effective the next morning.
It was almost midnight, and his mind could have, instead been on getting out of there; but he was all about customer service right up to the closing bell.
Fast forward a year, and I was in produce, at the strawberry display; there was no price on them.
There was a skinny young black guy arranging things with earbuds in.
He pulled on of the buds out, with an annoyed look after I eventually got his attention.
"There's no price on the strawberries," I said.
"I don't know," he rejoined, and immediately put his ear bud back in.
Then as racial tensions gripped the world and the George Floyd incident happened, I began to notice hostilities directed towards me by the black employees.
One of them clipped me on the ankle with a pallet full of stuff he was pulling, although he had plenty of room to go around me; didn't apologize, but gave me a dirty look.
And then, more recently, I tried to strike up a friendly chat with a cashier who had Shyla on her name tag.
She stared coldly at me and never said a word.
"It's so windy out there, I might get home without my hat." -nothing but an icy stare.
I thought that so rude that I said: "I guess it's not your job to have to talk to the customers" -more staring with her mouth open.
"I get it, you must be shy. Is that why your name is Shyla?" She handed me my change without a word.
Then, last night I arrived at the store about 15 minutes before the 10 PM close. It was as empty of people as I had ever seen it.
A large black security guy left his post at the front door to apparently shadow me.
He entered an aisle just as I was helping a short lady reach the last carton of egg whites at the back of the top shelf.
He must have thought we were together.
The bandanna I was using as a mask kept slipping down off my nose.
By the time I had made it to the cat food, he walked up and told me I needed to keep the mask on.
"Yeah, sorry, I guess I didn't tie it very tight"
"What?!" he snapped, as if it had sounded like an insult to him.
I repeated it.
"That's the second time; the third time you're gonna be out there!" (pointing towards the parking lot).
Then, he added: "Both of you!" referring to the short lady, who was now nearby, doing her own shopping.
Apparently, if my mask slipped again, this nice lady, whose only sin was not being able to reach the top shelf, was going to be kicked out, along with me.
She was also white.
The store was almost empty otherwise, there was nobody else within 60 feet, never mind 6 feet.
After it was announced that the store was "now closed" the same guy came up to me and informed me that I needed to go straight to the register. "Now!" he barked.
I bit my lip and didn't say: "Yeah, I heard the announcement and I understand English."
I headed towards the front, but, seeing that the last few customers were in line at the last and only open register, I detoured to grab a bag of oranges. He started to pursue me, but I had gotten back to the line before we had any further interaction.
At the register, I told the cashier, a black lady, that I needed to get cash back.
I said this because, on more than one occasion the cashier had pushed some button which made the cash back screen disappear from under my finger before I could press a button.
This is exactly what happened again; she closed the sale before I could hit the button.
"I was trying to get cash back, that's why I told you," I said. She just stared at me; and then said: "You must have hit the wrong button."
This whole scene drew the security guard, who stood at the foot of the conveyor giving me a harsh stare. "You have to spend at least 5 bucks to get cash back," he said; even though the 29 bucks worth of stuff I bought was bagged up in front of him; surely looking like over 5 bucks worth.
There were still 2 people behind me, they wouldn't be closing until they were done, and so they begrudgingly let me go get a second bag of oranges to meet the minimum.
Security guy stood next to me, and watched me press the cash button this time. It went right to the "thank you" screen after the cashier pressed something.
She started to say "Oops, I think I hit the..." but was cut off by the security.
"It must be your card!"
The card that had worked for the purchase, which had now been charged for an extra bag of oranges.
I had to leave, though.
"We're trying to go home!"
There would be no manager called to help out; I just had to go.
It crossed my mind that the employees might be intentionally trying to drive customers away; those who weren't boycotting because Donny Rouse, or someone, went to peacefully and patriotically protest at the Capitol.
The odd emptiness of the store might be because the black employees are trying to hurt the business from within; what do they care; less customers = less work for the same paycheck..
I didn't get the guy's name because, like a lot of the cashiers, his name tag was reversed; but he was the one on "guard" February 22nd at closing time.
I still like Rouses better than Winn Dixie because of the few employees who are nice; and they just "happen" to be the white ones, for some reason...maybe it's time for a meeting to discuss tolerance, or at the least to tell the security guard that wearing a mask that say's "I can't breath" and harassing white customers is not in line with the store's values.. 

So, then, it was to the Walgreen's on the way home I went, to get cash back.
I was still sipping on the Voodoo Ranger IPA that I had gotten at Rouses Market (my second beer of the night) and so I paused in front of the place to finish it before going in.

And, making a beeline for me was what Alex in California would describe as a "zombie," but I'm pretty sure it was a skeezer.

He had a wild hairstyle, not unlike Jacob Scardino's, and was carrying 

a couple shopping bags.

I had picked up a snipe in front of the tattoo parlor on my way from Rouses Market, and was in the middle of lighting it. Surely he is going to ask me for "one of those," and surely I was going to say: "Dude, I just got this one off the sidewalk," which was going to serve me the dual purpose of indicating that I had no cigarettes and, hopefully, that if I had any money, I wouldn't be picking up snipes.

My vaporizer, which I had just paid 14 bucks for, was in my pocket. It would last me almost 2 days, and keep me from craving cigarettes. But, I still get the urge for actual tobacco smoke every now and then, and, someone at the tattoo parlor, who most likely has to have Covid testing done on himself in order to sit right next to someone and stab them with needles; smokes American Spirits. He apparently takes short breaks to let the ink dry before returning to a breast to finish a butterfly or something; and so there are always half smoked ones on their sidewalk.

But, as I prepared, bolstered by the Voodoo Ranger IPA (it's the "Voodoo Tattoo" parlor that I snipe in front of, by the way) to be as snide and sarcastic as possible, the skeezer surprised me by producing a cigarette box.

"Security, Help; This Guy Is Harassing People!"

"Here, I have a gift for you," he said, approaching.

This froze me in my tracks from just gulping down the last of the beer and going inside, which is certainly off limits for him by now, if he is one of that neighborhood's resident skeezers.

Which one of 'em am I smoking behind??

Wow, here I was assuming he was going to try to skeeze a cigarette, when in reality, he saw me lighting up a snipe and was coming to my rescue with a free cigarette which hadn't been in someone else's mouth. How thoughtful, and what a lesson about judging people upon the sight of them.

Not!

He opened to box to show me that it was empty. He was on the other side of the railing that separated the landing in front of the door from the wheelchair ramp that he was on, a feature of almost every Walgreen's in the nation, probably.

The bags he held were full of cans of beer.

"I will give you beer for cigarettes," he said.

At this point, I produced my vaporizer, telling him: "Oh, I vaporize, I just picked up that butt because it was an American Spirit..."

"Well, can I hit your vaporizer; or can I have that snipe?"

I was trying to arrange the words in my head to tell him that I wasn't comfortable sharing my vaporizer with a random skeezer -what was to stop him from saying "thank you," then pocketing the 14 dollar item and walking off; it would solve his nicotine problem and then he could drink, rather than trade, his beers.

"Do you have any money?" he asked. This gave me the notion that he was the type of skeezer who was going to go through a checklist of items trying to get something -anything- from me. The food in my Rouses bags was to be next on the list, I was sure.

"Well, what about the food in your bags; would you have anything in there that I might enjoy?" type of thing.

So, at that point, I decided to play games with him.

"That's why I came here; I need to get 50 bucks cash back; then I'm gonna call my crack dealer; I want to get high tonight!"

This had the predictable effect of stirring his brain as if it were a hornets nest that had just been kicked.

"Crack, meth, weed -I can get it all; I know where to get stuff that will blow your mind!" he immediately piped up (excuse the pun).

...sure, I can go with you somewhere, where I'll hand you the 50 bucks and then watch you walk away with it; and then, before I know it, you'll be right back with stuff that will blow my mind....

"No, that's alright, I know where to get some killer stuff." kick-kick-kick...

Club Königlich

He then told me that he was from Germany, as if I might say: "Why didn't you tell me so before; I'll be right back out with the money, then we can go!"

Since I still had a few sips left in my bottle, I decided to play the game of: What Part of Germany?

He was from Berlin.

"Oh, really, what part of Berlin?"

Now, he was realizing that he may have picked the wrong city to lie about being from. He stammered something unintelligible.
"What clubs did you go to when you were there?"

He was apparently able to name a club, if whatever the German sounding words he said referred to one.
I decided to test him further with: "Have you ever been to Königlich?" This is the word meaning "royal," which I remembered off a bottle of beer (König beer?) but it sounded like a good name for a club.

And, what do you know, he had been there!

I drained the rest of my IPA, while casting a critical eye at him, and said: "I don't get high with gay guy's, nothing personal," before tossing the empty in the trash and stepping towards the entrance.

This was not before he began to berate me in garbled half-German, half-English, getting louder with each expression.

A young lady came out of the store and went to a bike that was locked to the railing a few feet away, while he was in the middle of this, and so he turned his attention to her, skipping the cigarettes for beer routine, but lowering his voice and becoming more "polite" and was asking her for money when the automatic doors opened for me, to reveal a portly, rather effeminate looking black man in a security guard uniform.

"Security, help, this guy is harassing people," I said.

He just smiled and kind of shrugged as if to say "I don't do confrontations, sorry." Or maybe it would be totally not "woke" to tell a skeezer not to skeeze, because of the fundamentally racist reasons that make him entitled to people's money, or something.

I gave him a "so, you're not going to even go outside to see what the matter is?" look.

As I was leaving my Rouses Market bags in the designated spot, I related some of what the guy had done. He just stood there smiling.

"Now, he's messing with that young lady..." He wasn't; he was already half way across the street walking towards the trolley stop; he didn't know that the armed guard was a pussy, I guess. But, at this, the guy went outside. A chance to be a hero to a white female, I guess, trumped him concern for me.

And, so this all proceeded from my having decided to go out to get alcohol that night.

It didn't occur to me until I was checking out and getting 20 dollars cash back that the skeezer might try to walk alongside me all the way down Canal Street; and I couldn't guarantee myself that I wasn't going to smack him over the head with my wine bottle at some point. I had a hair trigger, now that the IPA had entered my bloodstream.

But, I think I subconsciously led him to think I was going to have 50 dollars cash on me, so he would do something just like that; so I could blow off some steam. He wasn't a physical threat, was kind of pudgy looking; and I have been taking body building supplements the past couple months that have increased my muscle volume off just the little bit of weight lifting I've done.

After the bottle shattered against his dome, was I going to side-swipe his jugular vein with the jagged part still in my hand; in one swift motion? 

I had no idea really, only Voodoo Ranger IPA knew the answer to that, I imagined...when you snap, you snap...

So, here it is Tuesday night, and an opportunity to thank God that I'm not sitting in the Orleans Parish Prison holding cell, waiting to see the judge at 9 AM tomorrow morning, to be arraigned on aggravated battery, attempted murder, and brandishing a deadly weapon charges.

There can be no doubt that the analogy applied that Satan and his demons pounced upon me as soon as I stepped outside on my way to get the first beer.

The security guard, the skeezer, the second security guard; they had all become possessed at the given moments and saw in me someone who had attained a level of enlightenment and had been set back upon the path of righteousness, but who had willfully gone astray. Another thing that happened to occur was, Rouses was out of the alkaline water that I usually get, they were out of a certain pea protein milk that I wanted, the cat food shelf was almost barren except for a few flavors that aren't Harold's favorites, and even the oranges I wound up buying a double amount of, weren't the navel variety that I like more. I would have been better off postponing the trip a day to let them restock.

Walgreen's was similar; they had no cat food at all; empty shelf. They had no nitric oxide boosting pills; sold out. In order to get cash back I had to buy a little Easter candy. 

"Out with Valentine's, in with Easter," I remarked to the cashier, who just stared back at me dumbly with her lips slightly parted; as if listening very hard for any "dog whistles" I might have been blowing.

Was that a code for "out with Trump, in with Biden?" Should I permanently bar him from the store?

"I guess they melted down the hearts, and reformed them into bunnies..."

"Racist, get out!" He implied that Trump had a heart; and that Biden is a bunny...I'm not stupid... 

Security guard: "I'll back you up on that one; he was talking some German Nazi stuff before he even walked in..." Cancel him!

I have a chance to do it differently tonight.

Meanwhile, having quit music has indeed reduced my stress level; I don't feel like I have to prove anything to anyone by having a piece of music go viral on Soundcloud, and I can listen to music without having to analyze it and try to figure how much compression was put on the acoustic guitar in the mix, and how I might get the same sound by doubling my vocals and panning one left and the other right, type of thing.

All the above being written, it is 10 PM a whole day later and I am dying for a rack of Heineken, and can almost taste tequila mixed with lime soda...

So, as evident from opening my email; at around the time I was laying on my bed thinking "I'll never do that again" and wishing I had back the money I spent on beer and wine, and how I can free myself from the prison of the mind; in comes the $814, followed closely by the notification from Eckhart Tolle about, you guessed it..
I guess God will have me back, if I go and sin no more.

I am ready to go to the store for some Cuervo Gold, though. Why fight my own self? Who would be telling "me" that "I" shouldn't do it?