RECUPERACIÓN DE CARTERA
7. FORMA DE PAGO Y PENAS CONVENCIONALES
nothing.
As a young man I left home and wandered. Everywhere I went I found the same thing, NOTHING and EVERYTHING.
Humans moving around, each propelled by something unknowable to them, each going in a direction Unique in that person's experience.
At 16 I didn't realize that I lived within the walls of my mind, responding to its creations, as if it had reality beyond its own methods.
Once a policeman stopped me at 1:00 am or so and asked me who I was and what I was doing. I gave him a piece of paper.
On it were scribbles, seals and numbers. At Once he knew who I was, and At Once I knew too. He answered the second question of WHAT, by stating that I was loitering. For the first time in my life I knew everything.
This was a rare and unique experience for a 17 year old. To Know Who I was and What I was doing. He asked me a third question, "Where are you going?" I pointed to an all night coffee shop. I now knew that also and my exhilaration grew.
Finally, he asked, "Why are you out so late?" I replied that I didn't know and my world fell apart. From knowing everything to knowing nothing. He told me to go home, that I was too young to be out so late. I agreed and moved on, not telling him that I had no home.
I felt sorry for myself, but I had tasted the truth and from that moment on my life changed.
When the sun came up I found myself on the beach sleeping in the sand. My head pounded, the residue of cheap wine rushing through me. I looked at my clothes. They were dirty, wrinkled, with spots of blood. It didn't take long for me to remember where the blood came from. The terror put an end to my headache. It was from my friend who earlier that night had a knife fight with a fellow marine over a piece of pizza. I didn't know whose blood it was. I was lucky that it happened after the police incident. My mind ran wild with the possibilities of what would have happened if it occurred before. I imagined the hard time, the crushing of any hope of getting out of the ghetto. But it didn't happen that way. I calmed down, and my headache resumed. I asked myself, "Who is in charge here?" I gave myself an answer. I seemed satisfied.
I reached into my pocket and found my comb and a crushed "bennie".
It was getting warm. I took off my shirt and started walking toward the head. I felt sick and tense but I knew that within a few moments the tension would be gone. My stomach and bladder empty also emptied my mind. The thoughts stopped and with them my emotions.
I splashed some water on my face and combed my hair again. It was Sunday and very quiet. I had about 13 hours left before I had to return. The bennie kicked in and I felt in control.
Returning to Hollywood I found my friends eating breakfast at the coffee shop. We began to plan out the day. Our goal was to score. Each of us had our own idea of what that meant. It could have been sex, money, booze, drugs, a free lunch, a party, a ride in a new car. We all acted confident that we wouldn't have to spend the rest of the day on the street. As usual, things just happened. An event, a person or just time would change everything. This time three of us spent the day with some girls and booze on the beach. Next time who knows, a fight, an arrest, or just sore feet.
Three years passed and I had directed myself into marriage and fatherhood. I was surprised how I reacted to the whole thing. I was scared, yet no one had told me of that possibility. I wondered why.
With all the experiences I had had, and with all the lectures I was subjected to, no one told me that I might be scared of marriage and fatherhood. It seemed like everything else: thoughts, feelings, and reactions which No One had told me about. Was I mad? No answers, just anxiety, arguments. Where did all of this come from?
All that I experienced I didn't want or desire. I do not even believe I wanted to be married or to be a father, but I was.
I was living with two strangers, one called my wife and the other called my son. My wife had a family and they were my in- laws. It all seemed strange to me. Who were these people? Well, she is my wife, he is my son and they are my in-laws was the answer. I was content with that answer. Yet I felt that they were all strangers. No one seemed to know anyone. Each had a label and with that came reaction, responses and duties. I asked myself who these duties benefited. I could come up with no answers. Everyone appeared content and seemed to know what to do next except me. I felt strange, artificial, and trapped.
Although I didn't know what to do next, somehow I did things. Some of these things were applauded, others were scorned, but most of them went unnoticed.
I bought a kitten. She didn't like it. One day it landed on the head of my son and scratched him. She took it to the vet to have its claws removed and I never saw it again. She told me that it
died during the operation. I felt angry and hurt. She was disappointed in me. I didn't do something that was right.
We had a terrible fight and I got in my car and started driving. At 3:00 am or so the police stopped me and asked me the same questions again. I showed them a different piece of paper this time and gave them some new answers. They seemed satisfied and I was happy. For the first time in four years, I knew what I was doing and who I was.
I came home and beat her up. We moved and later I was divorced. I didn't know how it all happened. I thought, "everyone but me understood." Well, it did seem that way. Lawyers were yelling, she was crying, her family was mad, and I was scared. Anyway I was handed a few pieces of paper. I stared at them and felt confused. My lawyer asked me what was wrong. I told him that I didn't understand. He replied that the papers said that I was divorced. It was all over. I stared at the papers. He told me to keep them in a safe place. I started a file. I found other papers which I could put in it.
I remembered the rest of his conversation as I fiddled with the file. "Who knows" he said, "someday you might need them, particularly if you want to get married again. You should be grateful, you got off easy."
I felt strange. The question kept coming at me. "Who owned me. Who did I belong too. What happened, Where am I, Why did this happen?" I knew that none of this or for that matter anything else in my life was my intention. In fact my life was not my intention. I did not desire it. I did not create it. Yet here I was. Everyone else seemed to know what to do. Everyone else seemed to know where they were going. I did have a mother and a father and a family. But who were these people. Where did they come from. I must be some sort of malcontent, a mis-fit, yes. My father did call me a misfit. That's it, I am a mis-fit.
Who planned this all out? I went to the forest and sat on a rock. The answer came that it was the Sea, that planned it all out. I thought that I was nuts. How could the sea plan anything. It had to be God who planned it all out. Yes, it was God. I was just following God's plan. I thought that if that was so He had to be nuts.
Twenty four years have past and I am sitting at my Macintosh writing this. I still don't know how I got here and where I am going. I do not feel bad about this. It is no longer necessary to know what is going to happen next. One day I will disappear in the same way I appeared. I do not know when, just like before. It will just happen. One day, I will be gone. Until then I will just keep doing and being done to.