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July Something Old Dan and I reminiscing by the fire, this likely our last night here with all the work done (or Danny's wallet done) and me with my fucked up right hand. Dan says he loves it here, and rightly so. Dan's had a hard life and lived all these many years with this parents. No real social interactions with women, no sex and now he says he's gay. Wound up in special ed classes in school, teased for his Charlie Brown looks and less-that-quick wit or IQ or whatever the hell else we judged one another by in junior high Hell. And for me, nothing punctuates the life sentence of this poor virgin boy's friendship with me than the day in my Ashland Street, Melrose Mass living room when Dad pulled me aside and said, "Son, I know Dan's your friend, but you gotta move on, find yourself some normal friends." Now the intense carbon arc film set lights pop on in the stadium of my skull, and I see it all in bright light retro 70's 8mm color, the truth, the key: Danny and my Dad that day wrote a bylaw of my future. From then on I would always be (and have always been) a defender of freaks, the blind, the handicapped, counselor to the mentally retarded, diaper changer for cerebral palsy cases, and on and on. Thanks perhaps entirely to my father's statement that day, I would shun the normal at all costs, at every one of life's intersections. "FUCK THE DOOMED" as Nixon said in "Where the Buffalo Roam" I say "Fuck the Normal!" Mr. Normal, Mr. Church going, saintly-wife toting, sub-ur-bland guy, he, perhaps solely for his statement that day about Danny (though most likely ALSO for all his claims of my mother's deep-seated mental illness, a condition I've since learned is all about his DNA, not hers) perhaps my father Mr. Normal is the most outed of the outs, the last, lost loser gung-ho-for-God but NOT INTERESTED IN coming to see me here in Maine just a few hours away because it is NOT PRACTICAL, donch'a know! I AM DAN the abnormal, and somewhere in some parallel universe living room Melrose my father is telling a younger (or older) version of himself "Scott, I know Rick's your son, but you gotta move on and find yourself some NORMAL children. By the way, you ex-wife is a very sick woman and she always will be and someday, children, you'll understand this, mmmmmmmmmmma-k?" If you wanna say F.U.C.K, say ... "mmmmmmmmmm-kay!" New Thought! What if fish had penises and we humans had gills? Would the fish take
over the strip joints? And what would we all take to kelp bed with Mermaids?
Would beastiality.com start featuring photo-exposé's on sex with
sea-horses and cat-fish? Strange questions on yet another strange night
in the Maine woods, just down the dirt path from SK's beloved pet cemetery.
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