The only time we would go to church was when my Mom's relatives would visit. At that age the neighborhood kids would ask each other if they believed in God, and I probably said yes. I remember when I was eight and we found a dead squirrel in the street and we tried to bury to see if it would come back to life. An older kid said that the squirrel would just stay dead. It was in hard, rocky caliche dirt at a house under construction, so we didn't bury the shoe box it was in very deep. I checked a few days later, and the squirrel was still there, still dead.
In June of 1992 some friends and I went to Emo's on Red River when that club just opened. I walked through the inside and spotted Patrick. I've mentioned Patrick in an earlier post titled "Movies" from April of this year. At this time when I saw him at Emo's things had totally gone in the crapper with Jenna. Earlier that Spring, Jenna had taken a job with this magazine writer where he was not only her employer, he was her boyfriend. Jenna had met this guy through Patrick.
I walked through the inside of Emo's, spotted Patrick, he was talking to a group of young men that I didn't recognize. Maybe they all worked at Sound Exchange, where Patrick had become a manager. I remember wanting to go up to Patrick and maybe give him a piece of my mind about introducing Jenna to this guy, who was now not her boyfriend anymore. I said, "Hi Patrick," I guess. He looks at me, and delicately, slowly holds one hand out at hip level and quietly says, "Rich." I wave him off and walk off thinking, "I don't know what's going on."
Moments later, Jenna walks up to me in the patio area. She tries to introduce me to an art student girlfriend, I ask her for a light for my cigarette in a manner that lets her know that I am mad at her, and storm off. The days, and weeks, and months...and years that followed I do a pretty good job of going over in, "Richy Vegas, the Blind Assassin, part one."
I do remember that moment when I walked away from Patrick thinking, "I don't know what's going on." I know no more about that time, and whatever followed, or whatever had happened before now than I did at that moment, really. When I was seven in that dark room, I didn't know what lay in store when I may have been searching for some way to deal with what was going on in the next room. I still feel that way. I have no idea what lay in store. I have no idea what's going on.