Night's Like These

I never forget a face.

But then again there are a lot of things I can never forget.

When I was a little kid my father used to take me to this Chinese restaurant. A little dingy place that any rational person wouldn't have looked twice at. Even then it was covered in a fine layer of grit and grease that made everything smell of eggroll and even freshly cleaned silverware a little slippery. Everything was red. From the walls to the floor to the faux leather seats in the booths. We didn't go there often, but we went there often enough that every little detail from the chips in the bricks to the tears in the seat covers was engrained in my memory.

When I was about twelve we stopped going there. No reason, my father just stopped taking me to a lot of places around then.

Flash forward to yesterday. My father and I are driving (on business of course). He asks me if I want lunch in that way that lets me know he's hungry and can't eat unless I do, and since I'm sort of hungry I agree. We drive past the little chinese restaurant with no intention of going there, but then he mentions, and suddenly it sounds like a good idea.

The windows still haven't been cleaned and the minute we step in the door the air we're breathing feels a little bit heavier. Nothing about the place has changed. The same old man is working the door, sure he's a bit older, but he wears it well. The seats are torn in all the same places, and a few new places as well. The floor is slick and slippery and reminds me of the time I toured the kitchen at Brower Commons. Eleven years later the lunch buffet still costs $4.95.

Everything is still red.

Some things never change.

I was driving home from work today, passing through a rather unseemly part of Paterson, when I saw a girl walking up a hill. She was beautiful in a way that most people don't notice, that most people don't care about. But that wasn't what got my attention, it hardly ever does. I recognized her. I'd seen her somewhere before.

This wasn't a part of town where I would have any reason to recognize anyone. Not the part of town where outsiders spend a lot of time. But here was this girl, as out of place as I was, who I knew that I knew from somewhere. Then she looked at me, she stared at me...I couldn't figure out why.

And then I realized...I was staring. She was staring at me, because I was staring at her, and I could tell from the look on her face she didn't like it. I'm not the type to stare, or leer, or even sneak glances at a beautiful woman. I just don't have it in me. But in that second where she fixed me with that gaze of pure hatred, I recognized her. Not two weeks ago I'd seen her, she was the girl from Other People's Mistakes. I knew she didn't recognize me, but I sure as hell recognized her. Coincidences. Maybe someone is trying to remind me of something. She looked at me today, the way she looked at me that day, it made me feel sick.

Some things never change.

And other things do.

I suppose we have a fighter's chance. That's about all I can hope for. About all I ever really wanted. It might just be all I need.

I can't forget it. Can't forget them. Can't forget her. I guess I don't want to.

Tonight I set out to undo The Jesus Lobotomy, not sure how, not sure why.

I can't explain why I need to get those feeling back, I just know if I want to keep on feeling anything, I have to. I feel as stupid as that sounds right now. But fuck it. In the end a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

And...

In the end we do portend that made of might are mighty men. And willow trees on bended knees do bob and sway with awful ease. The king, the queen, the pauper too do tell the lord what he shall do. Till God awake and then he sees... That men are made on nights like these.