Monday, April 13, 2009
The Left-going Zax and the Right-going Zax
Keep busy or go mad," says Voltaire.
Full moon just over, I still feel an episode coming on, probably from getting too many bangs on the head, not from a misspent youth, but, damn it all, Saul, misspent middle age.
For a long time, the incident--say it on--accident was just a recurrent dream of the future I had until one day it actually happened.
I hate to drive through rural Arkansas as they are a little short of money there and I swear they will torpedo you into an accident just to keep you around town for a while.
So there I was about a hundred mile west of Little Rock and someone with his lights off pulls out of a right service station lane just in front of me and prangs the right front of my little Dodge, knocks me cold as I hit the driver's side door window. I had wondered what had spiderwebbed the window glass till I realized it had been my head. Blackout...
I came to which the Sherrif's deputy asking me if I was all right. He had been directing traffic all around me and and the other car, which was now at right angles to my front, blocking traffic.There were no lights, on his cruiser..
The story will remain short, but in the three-day motel stay in town X, I saw three other out-of state drivers get into exactly my kind of accident. They used to tell us at the Toronto Star, that when something happens three times, you can then consider it a fact.
It is a fact that the road leading into that town with its tiny hidden cross-lanes was a deathtrap and the other tourists had not been as lucky as me. Serious injury. Hospitalization. Good thing I had money and insurance. And a hard head.
Yet to this day, I don't see as well with my right eye as the left. There is a predisposition to mood swings as the memory of that crash lingers. That and the fact that since that accident, I had been in a number of bar fights with irate Scottish footballers. Arrogance. Even whorishness, "I'll take you all on, Mother....ers!
Well did they ever give me a proper ....ing. Stopped the blows with my head. Good move, Rowdyman!
...So I could hardly now sue that town back there in Arkansas. I needed to sue the Bayview Thistle soccer team in Newmarket, Ontario.
"You've got that punched-out look," my girlfriend observed in the morning. "Nothing like having your partner come home with a black eye."
I affected a Mexican vaquero, "'Pues." it will pass.
...But it was probably that accident that had made me go off kilter and, with all five- eight me thinking I was King Kong. Brain damage. Had to be. I had always explained to bar rednecks, even those with accents that I was a lover
and not a fighter. I really should have gone to hospital back there in Arkansas but the State Troppers said there was no need.
Blame it on the car crash. It was my mother who was the crazy one. Me? Sound as a dollar. Yet why was I picking on Scotsmen twice my size? My father had always warned me to take it easy. "Mother? She's sharp as a tack. It's you I worry about." Poor mother. In and out of the pistachio assembly plant.. The nuts don't seem to fall too far from the female walnut.
I did black out one more time after being hit in a bar. I woke up in the lounge area of Section Eight hospital ward. Saw some patient answering the phone. "Nut house!"
I resisted yelling, "Get me out of here!" as this would have surely prolonged my stay.
Ah, what can you do but drink and laugh about it.
Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, here comes my wagon.
I can hear my keeper calling me
Just like the nuts that fall
I'm a little cracked that's all
Ding, Ding, Ding Ding, here comes my wagon.
...Well, Mark the poet, I'm not sure if that was in four-foot iambs, but I think I just seen one. I saw a four-foot iamb right in front of me, right now.
Too much Dr. Seuss in my youth, I suppose.
There was a left-gong Zax and a right-going Zax...