I Hate Me, Part 101,888
This is going back a long time, to around 1982. First let me get to the photograph, I’m on the right. I have no idea what possessed me to buy and wear a beret. In a life full of fashion mistakes, it was one of the biggest. My fashion mistakes weren’t in the man’s man “I’ll wear fuckin’ sweatpants out to dinner, I don’t give a shit.” type way. It was more of half assed hipster literary bullshit type thing. An illegal concoction of pretentiousness and idiocy. That’s my friend Sean standing next to me in back of my car, in the driveway of a house that a bunch of us lived in. It was a weird house, a few months after this photo was taken another guy who lived there pulled a gun on Sean for taking his parking spot and later we ended up burning furniture in the fireplace for heat, not knowing that it was cheap furniture covered in wood-like plastic and we had to open the all the windows and doors because of the fumes. Two nights before this picture the restaurant that Sean and I cooked had closed under a cloud of embezzlement and drug trafficking. The last night the restaurant was open, a bunch of people from work wedged into my VW Rabbit and we tried to drive out on the beach. I drove over a huge rock and fucked up my oil pan, which I wouldn’t find out about until later. Right after this picture was taken we thought it would be a good idea to go on a road trip and visit Sean’s brother who lived up in Rhode Island. Sean’s girlfriend couldn’t go, so it was just us two. Sean’s brother was going to cooking school in Providence and was always up for drinking. So we spent the better part of three days really drunk up in Providence. When we started home, my car got about two blocks and just seized up. I had it towed and when they got it on the lift, they pulled off the oil pan and pieces of my engine fell out. It looked like robot soup. I had done severe damage to the oil pan and parts of the engine that were near it (when I hit the rock back home). The car was shot, I couldn’t afford a new engine. I ended up selling the car for scrap up there, which gave us enough money for train fare home. …and then depression set in.