Being broke

I was raised poor. My parents were not raised rich.  For years i disliked rich people. First, i didn't know the difference between rich and poor, and then i realized that being an asshole was just as random as being rich, and both were distributed like leaves floating down in the fall-not all rich people were mean and selfish. I've always been lucky enough to not be flat broke generally until payday was close enough to survive. I've been fortunate to meet some really helpful people at crucial times, but money had rarely been in abundance. I never have put much importance on money, it's not something to accumulate in excess of my requirements I guess. My good friend died when we were young, a fairly freakish accident I felt not quite responsible but very near to, and his early departure left quite an impression. See, he didn't take anything with him. Maybe that's why I've never focused on accumulating much of anything. As soon as i have money i want to enjoy it, because just like when Jonathan died, he had no inclination death was near or imminent. However, to go out when you're fourteen is to avoid many of life's little letdowns. I've always thought he went out on top, before the wave crested and fell in upon itself. I was remarking to a good friend of mine the other day that we had both managed to be smart enough to pass through life with a strong B average grade with no great effort, and therefore hadn't developed the drive to achieve great things. I can get by with nothing, i know i can survive tough times, and while i enjoy having some savings of some kind, i know I'll get by if i have to. So, while i don't have any gut wenching tales of deep, prolonged financial woe, I do feel as if financial strife has lurked in the shadows nearby since birth. It's always right there next to running away from my problems, developing a drinking problem, being mean to everyone, and all the other dastardly grown-up issues we pretend don't hide in our shadows.

Weird like me

Weird like me

Vegan restaurant

By the hardware

Hairy armpits

Strange food

Upstairs apartment

Live plants

World Atlas

Weird like me

Downtown bar

Six dollar long islands

Quart jars

Limit two

She insults him

He leaves

They tell her to follow

I'm now with strangers

New friends

Bar closes

Rooftop

Charlie professes her love for Suzi

Suzi has ferrets

But no paper for a thank you note

Somehow I find the proper house in the morning

Weird like me

New town

New life

Don't fit in

New friend

Recognizes two similar spirits

Weeks later

Rolling down a hill

Hand in hand

Midnight

Years later

Random smiles

Weird like me

Black dog

Midnight

She waits

In the middle of the road

Just rained

Black trees line the way

Humid night in Georgia

Burned in my memory