The Climb 1&2

For a long while I have been feeling a certain way. I felt like life wasn't worth living. A week or so ago, I attempted suicide. I drank more then a pint of vodka, and swallowed a gang of prescription pain meds. I was so woosey and delirious. For a couple hours I was fighting sleep. I don't know if I was scared, but something kept me going. I said to myself, this is NOT the way I wanted to do it. I really wanted it messy. Bloody, and full of gore. You know, like they say in movies. Full of gore.
After that, my roommate called the people with the white coats, offering to give me one of those I love me jackets to rock on the way to the hospital. They called first, and was like, "do you want to harm yourself?" And my answer was of course. I also told her how bad they fucked up when I reached out before to them. They were worthless. I mean really worthless.
A couple of days ago, I went out with my roommates friend. He came and knocked on my door, and asked if I wanted to smoke. Why the fuck not? We politicked for a while while smoking. I explained about three of my grandparents dying simotaneously at one time. And other things. Such as the disdain for his friend that doesn't seem to want to pay her share of the rent. But I should have expected that from her july 20 something birthday.
So we decide to go uptown to his spot, smoke drink and chill. His old man is a blues singer, and we went to the club in the villiage where he performed. Pops wasn't there that night, but it was cool because the music was still good.
I got home maybe around 2:45am, but the bus going to my house didn't leave until 5:30am. You do the math. Again, I wanted to die. I spent the only money in the world to chill with some dude I didn't know, with a million white people, who seemed to have more dancing rhythm than I had. It was good that I got out. But it wasn't my element.
When I got home that morning, I felt the same. I wanted to die. I wasn't happy at all. I just thought that the night was another sign that there is no reason for me to go on. I was lonley again. I didn't care about ole dude, nor did I really welcome the guys companionship. I wanted to be left alone without feeling lonley. Perhaps makes no sense to anyone, but me.

Tonight, I decided to pick myself back up. I can't feel like this anymore. I just can't. I look at my daughters pic on my device, and I just start to cry. I cry because I have never felt so selfish. I couldn't imagine not seeing her graduate, go to high school, college, marriage. All of those things run through my mind. And I cry like a baby, because I miss her at the thought of me not being able to see it.

I have to climb back up. I have too. I, on a whim said, let me go to the city. Let me get Flav back. Let me get back the person I knew I was before. Full of life, and passion, and everything I've missed as of late.

There must have been something tonight. No sooner then ten minutes, a couple started a conversation with me. They were evicted, and was asking for something, asking for help. The funny thing is that, they weren't asking for money. They asked for me to pray for them. Danny, and Kara. We talked for what seemed 20 minutes. I told them that I had to move out my place by saturday. At that point, she ran off a list of places in the city I could go for help. We, in that short time spoke on God, jobs, poverty, and other things. I am not saying this is what brought me up. It was just the beginning.
As I walked up the ave, I walked by the garden. Across the street from the garden was the hotel pennsylvania. And I couldn't help but to think that, I should have never went to that place ever. I thought that if I did not go there close to. Couple years ago, how my life, and my feelings for myself would have been different. If I knew then what I know now, I would have never shown up, changed my number, and never would have been online in any name I used before. I stood in front of the place and called it a piece of shit. Because it is. and whom I met there for the first time is as well. So be it.
So I continued walking. I walked and walked further up. I got to 42nd st and 8th ave. I worked around there in an internet cafe for a spell, trying to get people to use my company's voip phone service. It was horrid, but hell with it. Money is money. The company folded, and rightly so. My desk was no wider than 2 feet. And the office stank of cigars and drunken jewish gangsters.
I kept walking up a little, on 8th ave. Past all the peep shows, and the bars and what not. I started to recall when, ten years before that, the peep shows and the smoke shops were not on 8th ave, but on 42nd. There were all on the ave too, but 42nd was a different monster at the time.
Back in the day, it was different for me. When I got paid on a tuesday, I would go uptown. My whole thing was get some weed, bug out for a while, get lost, find my way back to midtown, go to 42nd to bug out, and go home high as shit, and do it the next day all over again.
When I went to the ave, I'd always fuck around with the hookers. Not fuck around as in "fuck" them. But fuck around as far as try to understand them. They so called pimps aint like it at first. Because they was thinkin I was some new nigga. Shit, I was in a uniform, smelling like plane fuel. Yeah, next pimp my ass. I'd ask the hoes all types of questions. Not the shit I'd ask now though. I'd ask bout why are they a hoe, do they make good money. Mostly why this and that questions, pertaining to their decision to become a hoe. Hoe once told me out there that she was a virgin still, but she sucks the best dick in the city. I cracked up because I figured the bitch took it in the ass too just to maintain that hymen. Many nights I did this. Walked around pretty much aimless, just enjoying life. For some reason, random people would come up and talk to me. There are so many countless spontaneous conversations that I had. I don't know what it was. Were they drunk. Was it that type of night? What do they see in me? That they will give me thir life stories?
It was never really a bum, or a drunk. it was always a "someone" I mean, the type of folks you knew jus plunked down a half a mil on a condo on 63rd and park or some shit. I always thought they were drunk or out of they mind to sit and talk with me. I never saw the big picture.

Tonight, I met this guy. Regular ole rich type white guy. I was on my way home to drink myself to death again. I had got hold of some more pain meds. And I put all the pills I had into one container. I was going to do it. I had the plan. Didn't eat, didn't sleep most of the day. Blood and gore is nice, but sounds painful. My luck is funny luck. Like I would be the guy that jumps off empire(was an option) and fucking survives. With no limbs, half a face and my ass would be on my chest. Not to mention a helmut.

Anyways, so I see this guy while I am walking to the train. He gives me a head nod. I nod back. I was across the street, but I crossed to see what his deal was. I go over and ask if he was okay. One part of me was concerned, the other part wanted to rob his ass.

He says to me that he needed a cigarette, and he was glad I came over. I was reluctant to give him one. I just started again after a 3 week layoff, and all I had was loosies. I gave him one. He goes into his spiel. He says that he is from wall street. He left his wallet and his laptop in a cab, and he has been up for two days, stressed out. He said all of his client information was on there and he was going to be fucked if it got into the wrong hands. I laughed at him while asking him if the laptop had a password. And then he laughed and said, "its 2007, does it even fucking matter?".

He got me there. He said he was going to jersey. He started walking the wrong way. I say;

The Path is that way.
"Fuck the path, that takes too long"
That's cool, you gonna be alright? I asked.
"Yeah, but come and walk with me"
I don't have the dough for NJ Transit right now, you just be safe, your pretty fucked up right now.
"I got you yo, cmon"

At this point, I'm like, shit. Hell, I'm game. So we start walking. He is talking the entire 20 steps we walk he is yapping. He stops to shake my hand, thank me for the port, and introduce himself.

"I'm Steve"
Flav
"Cmon, what's your real name?"

I told him while we still shook hands. I didn't get any bad vibe from this guy. It was weird. I didn't want to kill him. Lately, that's been what I wanted. My death, or someone else's combined with mine. We get across from penn station, at the pennsylvania. I'm in front of it again. He blurts out;

"Man, I have fucked a lot of broads in here bro"

That was funny. I started cracking up. He strts laughing and says;

"What's so funny (real name)?"

Nothing really, its just that as many chicks you banged in this hotel. I've met chicks and got head from them, and didn't even know their name, for three straight days. Lemme find out you was getting pussy, while I was getting bad head from the same hoes...

He started laughing and said, "Flav, I like you, your fuckin crazy".
We go down to penn station. And like I thought, the trains to jerz stopped. He says that he guess he was gonna find a nice chair for the night. I told him he could have one of my beers and we could chill for a minute. He agreed, and we left.

We walked down a block or so and saw some stairs and sat down and begin to talk, and drink. We discussed a lot of things in a short time. He told me about all the time he did in jail. About his drug abuse and all;

"I've been fucking with cocaine since 1981, I knew about coke before richard pryor did"

I asked him if he was high when he lost his stuff. He replied "most likely".
I asked was coke a wall street thing. He replied; "Everything is a wall street thing".

This guy was something else. A group of guys was walking down the street, while he was explaining how he uses the n word, and how we shouldn't be offended. That started an argument kind of. More of a heated discussion. Only he was laughing. His point was proven. The last dude that came down looked like the rapper tpain. And immediately he says "yo, are you a rapper?" I bugged the fuck out again. Then he explained stereotypes. He said all sterotypes are true. He knew this because he is irish, and loves anything involving a potato. Point proven again.

I explained what I had try to do to myself a few days before, and what I was going to do to myself later. He didn't seem concerned too much. He did apologize. And then he started. He went into a mode. I didn't know this guy from a can of paint. For the next 15 minutes, he hit the nail on the head with every fucking word;

"You aren't supposed to die now. I know what your issue is (real name). You are meant for bigger things. You are supposed to be successful. And you re going to be. We just met, and already, I see your charisma. You are personable. Understanding, and you have a pure heart, and you have a lot of pain. Your pain is because no one gets you. I can tell already how intelligent you are. Dude, you are probably a genius. but no one knows but you. You have ideas that no one has but you. You are a leader. A born one. And you want to self destruct because you let a small failure have the effect of a nuclear bomb. A pin drops to everyone else, but to you it is armageddon. The picture is big and you get it. And you're scared because you feel like no one understands you. And that's cool, because only certain people get you. And those people are successful, like you are going to be. If you did what I do for a living. You'd be the richest motherfucker that no one would ever get except ones like you. Suicide is a permanent solution for a temporary problem. You're better then that.

He said more then that probably. But I was hit like a ton of bricks. Here it was 3 in the morning damn near. But the sun was already up. For me anyways. I couldn't die. I can't. Not now. Here is is a perfect stranger not named Balki, telling me what others have said. The difference is that, this time the words were genuine and sincere. I believed them. My heart was no longer heavy. At that moment, I wiped the slate clean. I was really ready this time to start the rest of my life.

He and I chilled until 6am. Walking around. Fucking with tourists, eating authenic mexican tacos. Just living. Its what I missed so much in the last 3 or so years. I came back, but this time I was staying.

I don't know how to take this. But, after that convo, he wanted to "score". An hour before we parted, he says to me;

"Flav, after tonight messing around with you, I don't feel as though I need it right now, and maybe not tomorrow".

Wow. If you could be anything other than a broker, what would you do in life, I mean what's your passion?
I asked.

"A writer. I'm pretty fucking good too"

The sun was not only bright. It was inside me. And shining again finally.