Today [yesterday] was Memorial Day.
I don't like Memorial Day much.
And how perfect that it was completed by Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" on the radio.
I worked today. [Or, again, yesterday.]
And while at work, I met a manic-depressive who was off his medication. He was in his manic stage. He said it was like being on a natural high. I was quite intrigued. He had such passion and joy for life. He told us [me and the other cashier] that he's a writer. He talked about the strong feelings in his writing. And he compared his manic-depression to J.D. Salinger and the guy who wrote "A Separate Peace." I expressed interest in his writing. He asked me if he brought in some of his writing, would I read it?
I told him I would love to.
Mark [that was his name] falls on the good side of crazy people out there. He's wild, he's out there, but he was a coherant being and his passion for life was so beautiful.
On the bad side of the crazies.. Our regular crazie came in the store as I was closing tonight. He was trying to give me a dollar for the twenty cents I put in for him last night for a beer. I told him he didn't owe me anything. It was just twenty cents. And I only put it in for him just to get rid of him. 'Cuz he's loud. He bothers other customers, sometimes asking them for money. And he really makes me nervous.
He said to me the night before, "You don't like me, do you?"
I asked him, trying to keep on my mask of cheerfulness, "Why would you think that?"
He said, "Because I see the looks. I was born with looks."
Dammit, I really tried not to give it away.
*
How I wish
How I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found
The same old fears..
Wish you were here..
LJ