Falling off my Rocker

by tobias crabtree

(or, An Eel in the Muck)

I go through these stages of loss. Like my phone. Or keys. Sometimes important documents. It’s always been a part of me — these losses. I guess that’s a kind of irony, that losses are a part of me. But, man, they are tiring. Luckily my losses go unseen unless I decide to be dramatic, and then I tell my friends so I can feel them feel sorry for me. That doesn’t change the fact that I lost the shit, but I can at least feel some kind of sympathy. Today I bought a new phone. Some folks buy one phone that costs a couple hundy, I like to buy several that cost $50.00 and that way I can brag about how cheap they were several times a year. My new phone is better because I can actually hear out of it. My last one sucked and I could hear no one as they tried to tell me things, so I might’a lost it from not caring about leaving it wherever it was whenever it was there. I’m an idiot with phones. I might just be an idiot, period. I rode out to buy bread for tomorrow’s breakfast and then I stopped and had a couple of drinks. That was the plan all along but I pretended it was an accident that I ended up at the bar. Buck is the bartender and I like him. The guy next to me at the bar I failed to like. I left after a beer and a whiskey. Two skinny armed people were making out in the alley and I struggled with bitterness about the entire situation. Come on, tobias, just come on. So I pedaled the bike harder and returned to the forge where the lights were off and the night was in full progress. I have books and bread and a fairly open mind. I’ll admit to my meannessess. I will eat toast and have some cheese and I will lay down and read about stuff that smart people say. Then, at some point in the lateness, I will sleep. The fellas next door have more work to do, I can hear them grinding on metal. They are making cars look cool for people with lotsa cashola. There is a train in the distance and it is blasting it’s horn and rolling on rails that are steel and that go on and on all the way to L.A.  On the train, there are people who are looking out the windows and wondering about their future, maybe fretting about their past. Here I am, hacking away at the present like a monk that fell off his rocker. I am here, right here, and the rest of things are there. Quite fitting, actually, as I slip through reality like an eel in the muck.