The Lisping Barista writes a gratitude list

So, here I am, the madwoman in the attic. I always knew it would come down to this. Wait, that’s not all. I got an angry drug dealer who used to be my boyfriend and all his henchmen after me; my current boyfriend shot me in the arm; and the Spellbinding Fish Fry are playing in Ohio by now. Can things get any worse?

The Fry have got a song where they say when things get bad, just go through all the things you’re grateful for. That’s what I’ll do. Just like in the song.

They start off with some things about the sun and the sky, but I can’t start there because I’m stuck in the attic and can’t see either one of them. But, let’s see. There must be something I’m grateful for.

Gratitude Number 1
I got drugs. Not just Vicodin or Percosets, I’ve got a guy bringing me oxies. That’s what he does for me. And he gives me all of them, even though he has a broken collar bone and all I got is a bullet graze on my arm. I’d rather have some weed, but that would entail going to my drug dealer ex-boyfriend, hazardous for him and impossible for me, so we have to settle for what he can get from his doctor, his dentist, the good people at the emergency room, and any other doctors he can find.

The oxies put me in a permanent state of suspension from my body, like the two of us have agreed to disagree and are calling it quits from each other for a while. My body’s always been better off without me, anyway. We get along better this way, if you know what I mean.

Gratitude Number 2
I got the nicest guy in the world, who thinks he’s in love with me. He isn’t the guy I’d pick because I don’t pick nice guys, but he’s a guy who brings me drugs and straightens out these old dresses I sleep on every morning like they’re a bed to be made. He brings me food when I need it and even a pot to piss and shit in. Then he empties the pot so I don’t have to go downstairs.

As nice as he is, I figured out he’s not one of the thirty-six people alive who’re keeping the world from being destroyed. He got disqualified when he shot me because no one like that would’ve shot anyone for any reason. That’s why I don’t mind him shooting me so much. It takes a lot of the pressure off me, having to keep him good, so as not to destroy the world.

The fact that I don’t have to keep him good means that I’m free to fuck him, but the weirdo never wants to fuck. I’ve quit asking. He’s always afraid his sister will hear us. There’s something about those two I can’t put my finger on. It’s like he’s really married to his sister and I’m the mistress he’s trying to keep a secret. A mistress he never fucks.

Notice that I said he thinks he’s in love with me. I didn’t say he is in love with me. He doesn’t know me. In fact, all this love is getting in the way of him knowing a thing about me. It keeps him from seeing me for the loser I am. So, he keeps loving me, which is what he wants to do. He just wants to love someone, so he invents someone to love.

Notice I didn’t say I’m in love with him. Although, he’s cool, I guess. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s the love he thinks he has for me that’s getting in the way of any loving I could do. It’s like he doesn’t need it from me. I can treat him as bad as I want and he’d still go right on loving me because he can’t see a thing. If things keep going on like this, I could end up hating him because he pays no attention to me, even though he’s up my ass constantly.

Chai Latte is the guy I really love, for all the shit he’s done to me. I think it’s like this. You don’t fall in love and then choose a person. You choose them first and then fall in love with them because you chose them. And you choose them before you know them, so you don’t really need to know them to love them. In fact, it’s better if you don’t know them.

Also, only one person in a couple can choose. That’s why only one person can do the loving. The one who doesn’t do the loving ends up hating because everyone wants to be the one who gets the choice, even though it’s hard and you’ve got to work hard and get beat up. That’s the way it is. It’s not the way we want it, so it takes a while before we understand.

For now, I’m happy being the one loved, rather than having to do all the loving. It’s easier that way, even though I don’t get to choose. Screw choice.

Gratitude Number 3
For whatever reason it’s important, I guess I have to include on my gratitude list the fact that the sister doesn’t know I’m in the house. When I worked at the cafe, I’d see her come in wearing her long dresses and cardigans, no matter how hot it is outside. She asks me if I’ve seen him and, when I say no, she looks like she wouldn’t believe anything I would say, anyway. Then she gets a look in her eye that tells me there’s a whole lot of crazy going on.

If I’m a madwoman in the attic of a crazy house, does that make me sane?

Gratitude Number 4
I got this attic all to myself. There’s a broken window on one end and a good one on the other that’s really dirty. Birds fly in and out whenever they want. It’s like I’m a bird in a cage and the real birds are free to come over and see me. They whistle their songs to me and I learn to whistle them back. It makes them happy when I talk like them.

There is a whole lot of junk piled up in this attic, but it’s actually better than the rest of the house. You couldn’t get more of a mess downstairs if a newspaper truck collided with a tractor trailer full of electronics and they both overturned in a flea market.

When I get bored, I go through the boxes up here and find all the things these people kept and forgot they had. That’s what gratitudes are, I guess. Stuff we got in the attic and didn’t even know we had. The Fry ought to add something in their song about that. I’ll have to tell them.

Gratitude Number 5
No gratitude list would be complete if I didn’t add the Spellbinding Fish Fry. It breaks my heart that I can’t be with them right now and I left my music behind when I ran out of Chai Latte’s, but I got all their songs in my head. Anytime I want, I can just sing them. It also warms my heart to know that out in Ohio, they and all the Deep Fries are working hard to bring peace, love, and understanding to the world.

I am starting to see that, when I get more understanding, it changes what I know about love. I don’t know about peace. Peace could turn out to be very different from what I imagined it would be, just like love. It might turn out to be something I don’t want, either.

Gratitude Number 6
My boyfriend can’t find me here. The drug-dealing boyfriend, Chai Latte, I mean. He’s going to be pissed when he finds out I’m gone and even more pissed when he finds out I took the money under his bed. I would’ve taken more if I could carry it. I would’ve taken less if he hadn’t been such a prick. But then I wouldn’t have needed to run away at all, would I?

When I’m not snooping around the attic, I’m counting my money. Three thousand hundred dollar bills. More than this girl has ever see in her life, certainly all at once; probably more than I got from every shit job I ever had.

Gratitudes Numbers 7 through 3007
$300,000.00. I really like writing all those zeros.

By my calculation that’s enough to drive out to catch up with the Fry and follow them all the days of my life without having to stop at these towns to make enough money to go on. If I sleep in the car and get someone else to buy my weed, that is.

So, what am I doing, hanging around in this attic like a madwoman, or a caged bird, or a kept mistress who never gets fucked when I’ve got all this money? That’s the thing that erases all the gratitudes. I can’t leave because of that prick I love, Chai Latte. He’s got to be watching my car and he’ll kill me. What was I thinking? I never should have let the nice guy drag me up here in his attic, but I thought it was a good idea for someone to love me. I should have taken off while I could have. Now, I’ve got to lay low for a while, at least as long as the drugs hold out. Then I make my move and do my part in spreading peace, love, and understanding to the whole world. Peace and understanding at least.


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S. Harry Zade

Writing a blog keeps me alive.

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