Chapter 9
“You drunk asshole! Is that what it is now, you’re a drunk? A 15-year-old alcoholic? You friggin’ asshole! I’m telling your father to get his ass up here!” “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh…” Sobs. A grimaced face, the universal expression of grief at, perhaps, the human condition itself. Though, like Shakyamuni Buddha, I had not yet been exposed to the full ravages of sickness, old age, and death. Are we all brothers and sisters in suffering, or did I suffer more than most? Others endured their own trials and travails of lack and grief, but at least most of them found themselves placed and ensconced in either a close familial unit or the larger community. I felt so alone (most of the time… at least Lewis and Trish and who the wha’ the…) ...