Post by TFP on Oct 21, 2008 17:16:29 GMT -4
Kramer passes out papers, telling people to boycott the Post Office. One of Jerry’s friends walk up to Kramer, asking if it is Jerry’s van, and Kramer explains the whole story to him. After the news is broke to him, the guy runs off crying. Davidson sits back, watching this Seinfeld episode in rerun form for probably the fiftieth time in his life. Nos, his imaginary alter-ego, seems to be back into his life, too. At his side, he sits, invisibily.
But Davidson isn't focused.
Davidson: “They have my DNA, they found some of my blood on broken glass at the liquor store. They know what my car looks like, the people who live in the area spotted it and explained it to the cops. And do you know what they found? The exact car they explained, off on some old road I abandoned it on, and inside - my blood. Not far from the car, the evidence, the stolen goods. It’s safe to say that I’ve been caught and can be looking at some hard time, or a hefty fine. Breaking and entering, theft, running from the police, trespassing, destruction of evidence, and littering. Oh boy, a lot of money will be coming out of money in the coming days. It was a stupid decision, a stupid, stupid, stupid decision. Another mistake... I’m done for.”
Nos: “So maybe you did fuck up, it’s no big deal, right?”
Davidson: “Are you kidding me? You must be an idiot. You’re an idiot.”
Nos: “Oh?”
Davidson: “The last thing I need is to have to deal with the law, I was doing good for so long, man. I was staying out of trouble, I was keeping myself in line, sober. It wasn’t until now I fuck everything up, it wasn’t until now I go back to the past and start dealing with the shit that was bringing me down at first. I was in the right state of mind again, I was starting to be happy. Wrestling was my main focus, but I got caught up in the act of having fun and it went all to Hell. My driver information is in my car, it’s not going to be hard - or long - to find me.”
Nos: “Man up, girl pants. Or are you going to commit suicide or some shit?”
Davidson: “It might be the best thing to do, you know. I’ve done too much harm to friends and family, I’m also doing too much damage to society and other places, I’m good for nothing. Those who knew me best are probably rolling in their graves right now in total shock and surprise. Heaven probably already has be on the never ending list to Hell.”
Nos: “Hmm. You just need to calm down or get your mind thinking about other stuff.”
Davidson: “A walk or something...”
Getting up off of the sofa, Davidson walks to the front door of his house and heads out. Locking the door behind him, he turns around. The neighborhood is quiet, peaceful, even. Only bats fly around the street-lights for some weird reason. Most houses are dark except for the light coming off their television sets. Taking a stroll down the sidewalk, hands in pockets, he looks around, thinking hard about what he has gotten himself into. But he shakes his head, think about other things.
Other things.
The rain, it’s still coming down, but not as hard. A light mist, there’s water on the road, gathering up a few drops of water, all of which go to the sides of the road down into the sewer, only to be washed out into a harbour or a lake, polluted with all sorts of chemicals that can kill fish and even humans. Death, it’s all around you. Davidson had his flirt with death once in the past, and now he's going back towards it. A relationship that will fail, it's not a good idea.
The neighborhood park is the destination where he goes to, sitting on a bench is his only motive to go there for. As he sits, he nods his head, staring ahead at a statue of San Diego’s first mayor or something weird like that. It’s statue of somebody or something important to San Diego, or it could very well be irrelevant to the whole city in general. But for some reason, it’s there, and people are going to have to deal with it or die. Not really, but you know, just deal with it.
Davidson: “Parks, this is where children play with their friends or people they don’t know... usually... and there’s no harm in that. Nothing makes a parent happier than seeing a smile on their child’s face, laughing and having a good time. Many good times happened here for children, making their parents glad to see they weren’t depressed or even sad with the things going on in the world today. But those smiles, the laughter, it only happens for a temporary time until shit like this all around you fucks it up to the point of no return.”
Reaching down underneath the bench, he grabs a syringe that was probably disposed there by a heroin addict like he was and might still be. Looking at it, studying it to see whether or not it has been used, he looks at it and tosses it to the side in a trash can, where it belongs.
Davidson: “It’s not easy to smile once you’ve done some things that artificially do it for you. Drugs, alcohol, some find it fun and use it to have a good time. But you’re not the one having a good time, it’s just the effect of the drug on your mind making you think so. Once you’re no longer high or drunk, you feel down and start you realize, it never helped a single bit. The fun you had using it was pointless, you hardly remembered a single bit and you feel worse afterwards. Headaches, stomach cramps, cravings... it’s making you angry, pissed off. What the Hell have you done to yourself? Now you’re going out on a limb to support your habit and you’re having a hard time doing it. It’s a fucked up lifestyle, you’re not going to survive for long if you keep it up like you are. You can’t decrease things in time, because if you keep using the same amount, you’ll start to get used to it... and need more. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. It sucks, don’t it? And who’s to blame? Nobody but yourself. I can admit my wrong, by negatives, my weaknesses. I always have done it and I always will."
Getting up to his feet, he takes a walk back to the sidewalk, thinking more about what went down today. He might be safe, he might be okay. Walking to his house, he reaches the front-step, walking to the door, unlocking it. Closing it behind him, he locks it and shuts off the lights, going up to his room and laying in bed. It’s about 2:00AM, late enough.
Snoozin’ away, he is.
Then there’s a knock.
But Davidson isn't focused.
Davidson: “They have my DNA, they found some of my blood on broken glass at the liquor store. They know what my car looks like, the people who live in the area spotted it and explained it to the cops. And do you know what they found? The exact car they explained, off on some old road I abandoned it on, and inside - my blood. Not far from the car, the evidence, the stolen goods. It’s safe to say that I’ve been caught and can be looking at some hard time, or a hefty fine. Breaking and entering, theft, running from the police, trespassing, destruction of evidence, and littering. Oh boy, a lot of money will be coming out of money in the coming days. It was a stupid decision, a stupid, stupid, stupid decision. Another mistake... I’m done for.”
Nos: “So maybe you did fuck up, it’s no big deal, right?”
Davidson: “Are you kidding me? You must be an idiot. You’re an idiot.”
Nos: “Oh?”
Davidson: “The last thing I need is to have to deal with the law, I was doing good for so long, man. I was staying out of trouble, I was keeping myself in line, sober. It wasn’t until now I fuck everything up, it wasn’t until now I go back to the past and start dealing with the shit that was bringing me down at first. I was in the right state of mind again, I was starting to be happy. Wrestling was my main focus, but I got caught up in the act of having fun and it went all to Hell. My driver information is in my car, it’s not going to be hard - or long - to find me.”
Nos: “Man up, girl pants. Or are you going to commit suicide or some shit?”
Davidson: “It might be the best thing to do, you know. I’ve done too much harm to friends and family, I’m also doing too much damage to society and other places, I’m good for nothing. Those who knew me best are probably rolling in their graves right now in total shock and surprise. Heaven probably already has be on the never ending list to Hell.”
Nos: “Hmm. You just need to calm down or get your mind thinking about other stuff.”
Davidson: “A walk or something...”
Getting up off of the sofa, Davidson walks to the front door of his house and heads out. Locking the door behind him, he turns around. The neighborhood is quiet, peaceful, even. Only bats fly around the street-lights for some weird reason. Most houses are dark except for the light coming off their television sets. Taking a stroll down the sidewalk, hands in pockets, he looks around, thinking hard about what he has gotten himself into. But he shakes his head, think about other things.
Other things.
The rain, it’s still coming down, but not as hard. A light mist, there’s water on the road, gathering up a few drops of water, all of which go to the sides of the road down into the sewer, only to be washed out into a harbour or a lake, polluted with all sorts of chemicals that can kill fish and even humans. Death, it’s all around you. Davidson had his flirt with death once in the past, and now he's going back towards it. A relationship that will fail, it's not a good idea.
The neighborhood park is the destination where he goes to, sitting on a bench is his only motive to go there for. As he sits, he nods his head, staring ahead at a statue of San Diego’s first mayor or something weird like that. It’s statue of somebody or something important to San Diego, or it could very well be irrelevant to the whole city in general. But for some reason, it’s there, and people are going to have to deal with it or die. Not really, but you know, just deal with it.
Davidson: “Parks, this is where children play with their friends or people they don’t know... usually... and there’s no harm in that. Nothing makes a parent happier than seeing a smile on their child’s face, laughing and having a good time. Many good times happened here for children, making their parents glad to see they weren’t depressed or even sad with the things going on in the world today. But those smiles, the laughter, it only happens for a temporary time until shit like this all around you fucks it up to the point of no return.”
Reaching down underneath the bench, he grabs a syringe that was probably disposed there by a heroin addict like he was and might still be. Looking at it, studying it to see whether or not it has been used, he looks at it and tosses it to the side in a trash can, where it belongs.
Davidson: “It’s not easy to smile once you’ve done some things that artificially do it for you. Drugs, alcohol, some find it fun and use it to have a good time. But you’re not the one having a good time, it’s just the effect of the drug on your mind making you think so. Once you’re no longer high or drunk, you feel down and start you realize, it never helped a single bit. The fun you had using it was pointless, you hardly remembered a single bit and you feel worse afterwards. Headaches, stomach cramps, cravings... it’s making you angry, pissed off. What the Hell have you done to yourself? Now you’re going out on a limb to support your habit and you’re having a hard time doing it. It’s a fucked up lifestyle, you’re not going to survive for long if you keep it up like you are. You can’t decrease things in time, because if you keep using the same amount, you’ll start to get used to it... and need more. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. More. It sucks, don’t it? And who’s to blame? Nobody but yourself. I can admit my wrong, by negatives, my weaknesses. I always have done it and I always will."
Getting up to his feet, he takes a walk back to the sidewalk, thinking more about what went down today. He might be safe, he might be okay. Walking to his house, he reaches the front-step, walking to the door, unlocking it. Closing it behind him, he locks it and shuts off the lights, going up to his room and laying in bed. It’s about 2:00AM, late enough.
Snoozin’ away, he is.
Then there’s a knock.