[Apologies for this only being uploaded now, having some frustrating internet issues - hopefully our landlord will sort it soon. Another post to come later today. I did write this out yesterday though, about 2:30AM so apologies again if it's strange.]
A story for today -
This evening I went to a bar to meet some friends and have a drink. This hasn't happened in a while as, in general, places like this make me feel a little strange/uncomfortable (too many people, not enough air) and after a drink and some nice chat, I left for home, alone, as I wanted to do some work before bed and the walls were on me.
I was having a rather pleasant stroll home until, not 10 houses away from my own, on the corner of my street I notice a man asleep half on the curb, half in the road. Face in the concrete and arm bent peculiarly underneath him. Shit, I thought, I suppose I'm going to have to deal with this. After spending about 5 minutes trying to wake the man up, and considering phoning an ambulance or something (I don't know...) I finally managed to obtain an unimpressed grunt from him. Another 5 minutes later and he was sat up. My slumbering friend was clearly not in a good state, there were definitely things other than alcohol coursing through his system. I could tell this, not just from the substances surrounding his mouth or nose or his general demeanour but also from his insistence on knowing whether I had any coke/wanted any coke or could obtain him any coke. We were mates though, as he kept reminding me.
After some nice chat about the state of the economy, what I did, what he did, what my parents did, where we were, something about apprenticeships being the best way for a person to learn a trade, his inability to tell me where he lived so that I could help him home and my inability to roll him a satisfactory cigarette (which led him to believe that I was 'bent', though he then went on to let me know how handsome I was - the hypocrite) a group of unpleasant children came past. It was difficult, but I managed to stop him fighting the children and their appearance had erected him to his feet - which was a plus. We started walking. He reminds me of how handsome I am and how much of a good guy I am. I graciously accept his compliments. At one point he states that he bets that this will probably never happen to me again - I say hopefully not - we both laugh.
We decide that it would probably be best for him to stay with his mate (not me, though we are mates) this evening, so we walk (ish) in the direction of his mate's house. How accurate this direction is, I do not know. We come across one of the children from earlier, the child is a wanker. Also, the child does not have any cigarettes, Es, coke or pills - this makes him even more of a wanker.
Things take a much darker turn as we walk further towards his friends house (and further away from my own) as Owen (this is his name, but I can call him Ow, pronounced Oh, because we are mates) begins to tell me about his friend that died last year. What started out as a slightly amusing situation becomes much more emotionally scarring when he tells me about his friend's problems with addiction which eventually led to his death. He asks me whether I believe in God, I tell him no, he agrees. He is close to tears for a while. I wish for him not to cry and consider just running away.
Eventually we reach a point where I have given up hope of ever finding a house to drop him off at, and he seems much more coherent and happy to carry on his journey alone to his mates house (which is just at the end of this road). This seems like it is probably a suitable time for me depart. I am reminded again how handsome I am and that I am a nice guy. We will probably never see each other again - I say hopefully not - we both laugh. We exchange goodbyes, Owen kisses my hand and we go our separate ways. I run home and scrub my hand with a brillo pad.