The Re-imagining of Nostalgia #9 in General Mental Anesthesia

When I first started my long-term relationship on the corner of Atlantic & University, I was just a young lad, barely able to drink without a nipple; it was early October 1995 and I accrued fame and fortune under the initials SMF; WOOD had my back. It was then that we first met “The WB”.

She was a slender creature, blonde as the grass during a drought. She had a one-day no tolerance for Habib, but forgave him once she forgot. This threesome soon grew into an orgy of questions and answers of many creeds, faiths and bungalows. A few of the players were: “Maywar, Dolan, Gray, Sabri, Kitty, Wnkr and Snshne. It was a beautiful disaster of sorts; which came to an abrupt ending when Habib & I died in The Great Friday’s Fire of 96’… as it came to be known.

The days became ash & sin; torn assunder… our realities. Distance was victory and victory was torment. Deceased and wind-torn, we model bedraggled clothes over burnt bones.

But Death is not an end, just a new beginning, and so, many years later I found myself resurrected; an SMF of tomorrow, minus 700k or so; Wood was undersized as well, yet he grew new bark and kept a close shave. His bite was emotional. I saw “The WB” for the first time since my Death, distance still my enemy… in more ways than one, but soon there was to be a killing which would free me from my then, incarceration. I was to come back to my land as Moses did oh so long ago. We probably have a different shoe size (Moses & I) but we walk the same path.

We endured “Rick, Sam, Alea, Tina, Niko, Blaine, Mindy”… oh so many others of insignificance… Until, one night...... one night changed everything. I cannot be sure, but I believe it to be the 9th day of the 9th month of 2002 (which sadly has little or no significance.) I have never spoken of this moment before now.

Do you remember a time in your life when you think you saw a person in your past in the present? Someone once you knew? You look again, but there’s nothing. No one, though you could’ve sworn.... If so, well that’s really interesting, but I could honestly give a rat’s ass. For the love of pudding and all things holy, pay fucking attention and stop letting your mind wander! I’m trying to be serious here. Show a little respect for crying out loud, I’m dead & undead all at the same time (and also sort of living) it’s complicated!

It was this fateful day that there was to be a separation of 90 degrees, which inevitably comes full circle. Don’t try to do the math unless you can think 4th dimensionally. Habib and I were oblivious to the honor bestowed upon us, but yet at the same time., we knew something great was in our presence. Once the dust had settled “Nine” was crowned and thus stands to this day.

I know that this sounds like the end, but you’d be a fool to believe such a thing. This story has no ending.

On the 9th day of 2004, “Nine” was sentenced a new crown. One of service and honor; It was a funeral as well; “Nine” approximately 9 months after being appropriately named was parting.

He is survived by Habib and myself. The card bled of Jurassism, but we saw around it’s evil and stamped it of greatness. For “Nine” shall live on.

I should also mention that around this time “Nine Days” also passed away, but in a very different and literal sense. There are no metaphors scattered upon the floor to describe the truth of this particular tragedy other than my brand new suit being burned, leaving me naked, but clothed, physically un-scarred and emotionally damaged.

Tonight, however, we were faithfully unprepared for the pandora’s box that would be opened.

It was after midnight and “The WB” was unattached (This is a metaphor of varying proportions). I asked Leetha about “mom”, not mine, not yours, not hers… it’s not important, but she played the notes… the keys… twisted the box and opened the gate. She created a vortex that I do not know can ever be closed. There has been consecrated an unholy union; in my very presence, without my knowledge, consent or blessing. Entire worlds have collapsed under less pressure. My feeble mind can hardly contain the words spoken unto it tonight. WOOD, himself has been crapping splinters ever since, and I do believe that has torn all his shit up.

I feel confused, disoriented… almost used, but not in the traditional sense. All those years, I sacrificed myself; I died… “We” died… in holy remembrance; in “Nine” we trust. Why had we been silenced all this time? Everything was separate until now. I find myself alone… more so than usual. Cold and distant with no after five to keep me afloat or warm. Habib is adrift, I know; we tried to speak of it, but found no words. It’s as indescribable as the imaginary number i.

I bet though… had only I’d known then, the answer...... was probably… “9”.

Last updated March 19, 2020