Sinister: Standin' in her chino shirt pulled off clean, got a tattooed tit, says number 13

[jason.cochrane at xxx.com]

WARNING THIS IS LONG AND SOMEWHAT POINTLESS
... might be entertaining though

I was a security guard, I was the guy with the flash light and the big ring
of keys. 

At 17 I had grown a beard, and started seriously drinking. My best friend at
the time and musical collaborator had finished school, he had worked for
Price Waterhouse the summer before and had saved quite allot of money. Money
that by October had been delegated solely to our consuming passion in life,
drinking (please excuse the Bukowski-isms... it's hard to talk about those
days without sounding a bit like Buk, at that point we were walking talking
cliché's). i decided that dropping out of school (grade 11) would probably
be the best option because it would allow more time for drinking, and seeing
as I wasn't really going any more anyhow it wasn't a very big surprise to
anyone. Times were good, our girlfriends were both lovely rich girls from
the region just north of us. they loved our deep worldly ways... convincing
these lovely ladies to stay with us was not a difficult task. My friend's
girlfriend was particularly rich, her father owned a successful logistics
company or something. Anyhow, her father hated my friend and forced her to
either give him up or leave the bounty that was his parental love. So she
packed her bags and moved in with Brandon (my friend). She got a job at a
trendy yuppie coffee bar some distance from Brandon's house. So every
morning at 5:30am he would get up and drive her to work, she would make us
egg salad sandwiches and send him on his merry way. He would then drive
directly to my house, let himself in, crash out on my couch until things
were moving again.  We would sit around and drink most of the day (or what
remained of it after we ourselves go moving)we were supposed to be recording
an album on a lent four track. I don't think we ever completed a song, the
songs all went like this; verse, verse, verse.

After we had written a verse we would celebrate our genius... until the
genius was drunk as well and so was the drive. By 4:30 his girlfriend would
finish work, we would swing by (always about half an hour late) steal the
expensive  sweet iced capochino drinks, grab a sandwich and her. After which
we would proceed to my girlfriends house and back to my house. By this point
in the day (around 5:30pm) Brandon and I would be quite loaded. We would
have horrible arguments with our respective girlfriends usually trading days
of the week. I have never met crueler people than we were in those days. We
would get drunk and just fuck with those poor girl's heads... neither of
them meant anything to us, actually I shouldn't say that, I was quite in
love with Brandon's girlfriend and took many opportunities to take her off
his hands for a night so he could get some "rest". Which meant that he could
sleep with the a barmaid that gave us double shots for singles.  After a
dinner of stolen sandwiches and frappachino's we would head for the local
bar which was conveniently located down the street from my house... of
course we never walked, we might need the car for the after hours clubs
downtown.We typically closed the bar, we rarely got cut off. if we did we'd
go to another bar (sometimes it was difficult task as I was underage at the
time).

After 2:00am (last call in Toronto) we would either head out for more drinks
(afterhours clubs in Toronto resemble crack houses more than bars, people
railing lines off of the table and whatnot) or leave the bar only to come
back after the owner had left, to drink with some of the staff. we would
usually go until 4:00 or 4:30 and come home for sleep or to wait out the
time until Brandon had to go drive his girlfriend to work. We had goals at
one point, an album, a book, a film but nothing ever really materialized. I
found another girl that frequented the bar her hips popped when she had
sex.. she was considerably older than I... divorcee and all of that.  She
slowly replaced my high school girlfriend. It took about 6 months to spend
the $10,000 that Brandon had made that summer before. Brandon's girlfriend
paid his rent after she moved in, and I was living rent free in my parents
basement. they didn't seem to mind the way things were going, although I
don't think they really knew. I was very careful to only be at home when
they were either asleep or at work.  I only saw them the odd time when they
were leaving for work in the morning and I had misjudged the time or what
time was all together.  

Brandon and I had decided that we were moving to Europe. For some reason it
just seemed that we belonged there. All of the cool people lived there, and
the people that hassled us were simply not clued in to our open and free
bohemian life style... people would never hassle us there.  I decided that
in order to get to Europe I would need some of my own money. I looked and
looked for a job but to no avail. finally I met a guy at the bar that was a
recruiter for a security company downtown. He said I looked  like I could
handle my self (I'm 6' tall and 240lbs). He told me to show up the following
morning and he would give me an interview. he took to me immediately and I
showed up on time ("the key to being a security guard" he said "is to always
be on time, you can show up drunk, you can smoke dope, you can sleep.. the
only thing you have to do is be ON TIME"). I got the job. once I started
working Brandon wasn't too far behind. He got a job working as a sales clerk
at a computer mega-store.  Eventually we grew apart. It got to the point
where I started looking at my surroundings.. the people I worked with and I
realized "these people are losers, they are morons, they should all be put
down". After that it didn't take too long for me to realized that I was one
of them. I was 18 at this point I had been out of school for a year. I
looked like I was 40.

By Christmas I was out of the Security business and back in high school at
19. I finished my diploma and headed out to the work force (after touring
the USA playing trumpet in a Big Band, another story for another time). I
now work in a Big building downtown, and I'm now one of the guy's that  I
used to say "yes sir" to.
Brandon did end up going to England. I've started talking to him again via
e-mail, he's the night manager of some hotel in Bath. he is apparently
coming back to Canada this summer... where we may actually end finishing
some music. We are both full out pot-heads now... but hey, if it's not one
thing it's the other.

When I started this there was a point..... ah yes. I found very hard to give
up on my dream of moving to Europe to become some sort of neo/anti beatnik.
After reading that post about how dreams die and how do you let go. It got
me thinking. I have never been comfortable since I started office work. I
don't belong here these are not my type of people... I think I need a
change, I think I need to get away, go somewhere interesting. They say you
can never run away from your self.. I just think those people just haven't
figured it out yet... it's all about the race.

I think I have matured somewhat, particularly in my relationships with
women. of all things I did in those days, ruining those poor girls is the
part I regret the most. they really did love us. We didn't love them at one
point, but in the end we just said we did to keep them around, free
sandwiches, rent and all.  I'm not so sure who got fucked more in the end.

if you've read this far I commend you... I meant for this to be a few
sentences about dreams.

If you did read this far and are pissed you did.. well alright lets talk
about that. Some of you people are far too shy, let me have it...

again I'm really sorry,

Jason
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