6:44 AM Part 2


Not sure if any of you can make it to breakfast in the morning – I know you’re busy thinking about what’s going to happen around 10 hours from now, but 6:44 in the morning is going to be nice if you can manage to find yourself nice and awake with your order and and coffee ready to go.

Some corner diner down by the wharf that works well at night, but in the morning holds those of us with money but no decent place to spend it. I was making a good 5 hundred a night up there on stage, but it was going away just as quickly. I was healthy though. Meeting my dealer while waiting for breakfast I felt was always more civilized. Now I knew that I needed to quit, but had no idea what that would mean. I ‘d have to change everything around – the set of friends, my work, each habit. That’s what it takes to do something new. I’d have to leave him as well, which is probably going to be the hardest part of all of this. The Junk, that’s just physical I think. I’ve been dialing it down a bit and taking a bit off each week. It’s getting me sicker and sicker, but that’s what it’s going to take. Not sure how I could switch it all around.

I looked around me and saw families getting themselves ready to start their day. Young couples with their eyes on becoming young power couples read stocks and looked for ways to increase their earning potential. Waitresses tried not to look upset at serving people the same as as them. Everyone’s life was operating during these hours and I was waiting for my medicine, but had to settle for the eggs put in front of me. Sunny Side with some crispy hash browns and a buttermilk biscuit with gravy. I got it every time I was here. Good thing my routine on stage was so long and the shifts so tiresome – it allowed me to eat whatever I wanted and not blow up. I was a little crazy when it came to how much I weighed and I what I looked like in the special treats I’d buy for myself. You need to treat yourself nice once in awhile to balance out all of the shit you have to eat in the world.

I picked at my food and read the San Francisco Chronicle. Those old style lettering mastheads made me feel at ease. The lead story was a letter from the editor about how they felt bad laying off so many of their writers because of how much money they were loosing in advertising revenue to the internet. Everything was changing but everything is always changing, so I’m not one of those people who sits around complaining about it. There’s really no use in that. The door opened and my guy walked in. My guy, not my man, just want to make that clear. I saw out the window a bike riding by and could have sworn it was that kid who I’d just met a few hours ago. Perhaps I should have seen what else he could get, but my policy on things like that had alway been to spread it around a bit. Depending on one source is going to leave you hurting if that source ever dries up – and besides, this was for me and that was for profit. I would have to hang on to that kid though if I was going to jump out of this lifestyle – which I was planing on. I told you that already.

It was a quick exchange without much talk. This guy didn’t like and of that. Junk usually doesn’t have those grand connections you see if the movies. Everyone knows it’s pretty much the worst thing in the world and we’re all just avoiding the end and promising ourselves that the escape routes we’ve created for ourselves will be visible enough when it’s time to use them. It’s the same in offices though – I’ve heard that from my clients. We all tell ourselves just a little bit longer but that always turns out to be more the longer than the little bit.

Got what I needed and finished my meal. I tried my best to eat slow and experience each part of the bit but that never worked out too well for me. Tipped big and walked out into the fog, comfortable with the nights work I’d done and the rewards it had brought me. Still, seeing that kid roll by struck something in me and I usually try to pay attention most to how I’m feeling instead of what I’m thinking. It keeps me from regretting my actions. I believed in the signs that were put in front of me, though I always had trouble figuring out what they were. Perhaps I was being told to walk away or stay away from these people, but my nature was to move towards things.

I walked out to the docks and met up with an old man who I offered a smoke in exchange for a light. He looked like he’s been sitting there for 40 years. 40 is a good number.

“I used to work in the cannery up there,” he said motioning up towards what is now Ghirardelli Square. “That fish we pumped out I tell you didn’t smell anything like that chocolate. When they closed it down, they actually paid us to take out the equipment. Nobody needed it anymore. I think they shipped it somewhere or burned it down for scrap. They weren’t going to do that to me though. Not a chance.”

I didn’t say anything. Figured the wind would echo an answer.

I needed to talk to that bike messenger though.


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