Speaking of the twilight zone, we have a bunch of CD’s of that and this could be an even better one. Before I start about Bobby, I’ve got to mention something. The window in my bedroom is small and needs cleaning so, near dawn, I swear that when I looked out the west window, instead of burned out forest, there was all forest as far as I could see. I’m not going to call it a mystery yet because I did a little bud last night and I may have been dreaming but if it happens again, I’m slapping myself and it just might get the number one position on the mystery list.
My Bobby was a wild man to be blunt. The only thing that he slowed down for was sex, and not much. He worked the farm like a beast of burden, drank like a river and swore like a damn sailor. I kept on saying that boys gonna kill himself between downing a half a barrel a night, then sweating it out behind the damn hand plow. Asked him if he needed help and I should have known better, god help my ass, no place for a woman even though I showed him I had had muscle to challenge his ass. Even almost took his arm down one night. Or maybe he just wanted to be by himself out there. So, on Sundays Bobby sobered up as much as possible with a bud and cat naps and by our only appearance of a sit down meal, we was eyeing each other like we did when we first met at the Broken Wheel. He was good to his friends and generous with the food he raised, always gave me a nice birthday present and when I looked distressed, would try and pry it out of me to make me calmer.
The main point about Bobby and me was that we were like two peas in our farmhouse pod. I could work just as hard and drink too! We was both attached to the hip as one drinking girlfriend told us once at the BW and Bobby bought the house a round for that. We laughed together, had tender and rough sex together, sometimes wrestled together, even knew each other’s thoughts and finished each other’s sentences, sometimes making each of us mad that the other hadn’t let the other finish it. We worked out together in the barn gym with the goats and the one pig, rolled in the hay after and showered off with the hose. Okay, that’s enough because there’s so much to this story that is screaming to me to let out. Just stay put because the good stuff is coming! (the kid said not to put that in but hell, this isn’t like Moby Dick and will never be published or even read by anybody except for maybe aliens to find out where everybody went.) And speaking of the twilight zone, I swear that one of these days I’ll come down the stairs in the morning and he’ll be cooking breakfast with the coffee ready and my favorite breakfast burrito with extra hot salsa!
The first thing I did was to try and put everything in order, chronologically, (the kids’ word that I’m still not comfortable with) to be useful for this documentation (okay with that) of Bobbys thing. Nope, not going to label it yet. This, I think, although the kid doesn’t think so, is his first writing. I think he was high and if he’d only shared this stuff with me! So the kid again, smoothed some of the rough spots out and in his words not compromising the integrity of it. I swear, I think the kid is a genius.
Note: it was written with a pencil, scratched through, written over, balled up in his hand to throw away and dirty. It took me an hour with a magnifying glass that we used to sometimes light fires outside, to interpret( the kids word) it. It’s in italics to show it was his.
I feel like i’m in a cave or still in my mother’s womb which is strange because how would i know that. Jennas asleep so I found a deep corner of the barn behind old hay bales where it smells like animal dung, damp hay, musk from a coon and something else. I’m fucking tired but I have to do this. The flashlight is on a bale pointed at my writing pad so I can see. I have to begin recording because this feels really awkward and clumsy. A few months ago, a girl, I swear that looked like Daisey May, came whistling down the road looking like she’d just stepped out of the shower. Her face was flush with health. I’ve heard of auras from someone, and she had one. I stopped dropping the potato eyes on the mounds and just watched. Never stopped whistling, arms swinging, a smile, a long yard and not a whole hell of a lot on, off the road, down the dirt drive and right up to me. Just a few inches shorter and confident, I could see that. She looked into my eyes for I’m not sure how long and was gone. Over the last few days, I believe I’ve recovered a missing part of that memory which is strange again because I wasn’t aware of anything missing and that it was a long wet kiss, we call French, that lasted for about a minute. Sure, glad Jenna didn’t see it.
'That in itself is odd, right! Whenever does that happen meaning beautiful‘ girl/French kiss/ no memory of it while happening. I know I’m not the ugly one of the litter but not the nicest either so what the hell. That was a few months ago and has already faded away like something that didn’t matter, just a passing thing because something else is happening that has me wondering what I ate or accidentally breathed in or smoked. Sometimes bud is exceptional, and I stop the smoke to save it for the next crop. Maybe, but I never smelled the way I am now and hearing. I can hear the cricket’s way out at the tree line on the other side of the field, smell the compost Jenna took out yesterday and there, the Barred Owl over by the west branch just beginning her moon song. That’s a half mile away. Not gonna tell Jen, she’ll only worry and start tripping over if I caught something and if she’d catch it too.’
When I first read that, you’re gonna think I’m crazy but I was glad that she didn’t bite him. We used to watch those movies, so this wasn’t one of them. After that, I decided to take this slow like I was a part of some movie just not that kind.
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