So, when I was 11, I had a pair of Georgia Bulldog sweatpants that I loved. I lived in these fucking things. By the time they were retired, the knees had been tore out, they were see through, the crotch was ripped. For some reason, I felt goddamn special in these fucking sweats, man.
We used to play "Smear The Queer" in the field next to my parents house. Every male from the hood would be there. Shane, Levi, Josh Pella, Brian, Matt, Andy, Sonny....just smashing the sand outta each other for hours on end. My parents would leave me with the neighborhood kids and run errands, they would always lock the door because they didnt want a bunch of asshole teenagers up in there working class castle. On one particular Saturday, right in the middle of doing my best Chuck Cecil impersonation, I had to SHIT. So, I ran off into the woods, yanked my Bulldog sweats to my ankles and released a decent growler. I quickly wiped with a leaf and returned to showing these chumps what spearing was all about.
As the day came to an end, my parents were finally home, I went inside and was going to do a proper wipe because I knew that leaf didn't cut the mustard over in Turd Forest. So, I sat down on the toilet, and what to my surprise did I see as I looked down?
I saw a lonely chunk of shit in my pant leg.
It wasn't huge...maybe 3 inches long and an inch wide....brown.
I'm assuming when I pooped in the forest, I didn't pull my pants down far enough, and crapped right down inside of my sweats. The elastic noose at the bottom of my leg had a prisoner. I had that little poo Goblin inside my person for a solid 2 hours before I could let it escape. I sat there and stared for a second. I wiped the shit off my leg. I hopped in the shower and didn't speak of the situation for years. It was shit.
You might be asking why I'm telling you this.
What the fuck does this have to do with anything?
My brain is a bit fucked and skewed. But, those were the days. Literally, different fucking kids, from different fucking homes, beating the living piss outta each other for summers straight...no fights, no bullshit...just neighborhood kids that had come together based solely on being from the same place at the same time. We loved our neighborhood of Honey Lake. We all grew up and moved outta there. From time to time, I run into alot of those old faces. There is always one thing that gets brought up. We were lucky to have each other back then. We were lucky to grow up and run around those streets together. Everyone from back then feels that way. Those kids were my second family.
It's weird to see people grow up. It's hard to throw away the kind of care free existence you had when you were young. The stresses of life can zombify the bravest man, I've seen it. I've lived it. Especially in a world where noone gives a flying fuck about anyone else. Noone takes a second out of there shallow days to breath the salt on there skin or enjoy the solitude of the warm sun blessing our pores. I think we take that for granted when we are children. The things that we should cherish forever fade and are replaced with meaningless pile of shit that that are crammed down our throats. We don't chase our passsions. We don't remember a time with time.
I guess my point is this...we live in a world where no one is the same. We were raised to value totally opposite things. We became punks, doctors, factory workers, bus drivers, and we've all become lazy. Lazy with the small things that truly matter. We forget about the times we have failed and remained steadfast. We forget that life is not about grinding the gears into a small pile of scrap and abandoning ship. We forget that 24 years ago, we stood like wild eyed demons and impaled each other relentlessly. All the while, carrying a dookie biscuit along with us.
All I can say is...get over it, take a breath, wipe the shit off your leg and taste the wind.