True Stories and Ground Zero

Monday, June 27, 2005

Caught up on some comics this weekend. Read a months worth of floppies along with True Story Swear to God: This One Goes to Eleven. That book just hurts me. I mean, it’s so good, and I feel like I connect with it on such a personal level, but it just bums me out; mainly because it’s such a great story. I look at what I do on this site and I tell so much shit – I talk about my fears and my faults and my heartaches and I sometimes I feel I do it in such a way that it feels likes I’m hamming it up for the audience. Tom, he tells his story so simply and honestly that it feels more real than anything I ever do here. I guess the sign of a great book is when it makes another writer feel like a hack.

I already wrote first drafts of my stories for this week and last night in a drunken stupor I tried to write a different one that I thought was going to be powerful and moving. Read it this morning – fucking incoherent. It was like this weird blend of five stories that I was trying to connect but it just made no sense. I probably should share it for comedic value but, maybe in the book version it’ll be bonus material.


Avi was this freshman on my floor during sophomore year. At first he seemed like an OK guy, I kind of took a shining to him. His jokes seemed funny and he was friendly and outgoing. The first weekend back to school we were crashing some MIT frat party and I took him along with us.

Once we got there, I realized that he wasn’t really that funny. He must have gotten lucky with the jokes he told me at first because now everything he said was just corny and uncomfortable. He’d laugh really loud after the punch line while tapping your chest or back and saying, “You know what I’m saying?”

And he was a Yankee fan, turns out.

The whole night consisted of my friends and I trying to get away from Avi which was almost impossible. We might lose him for five or ten minutes but he’d always find his way back, tell some retarded joke and laugh.

He was getting drunker as the night went on and he tried to hit on every girl at the party. At one point he came up to me, drunk off his ass, and says, “I don’t get it – I keep going to talk to these girls and they just walk away.” It was so sad. And I was kind of embarrassed I brought him along. So, I gave him a pep-talk.

“Avi, dude, this is college. The girls – they like a guy that’s persistent. Next time she walks away from you, you gotta follow her. Grab her arm, turn her around – make her listen. This ain’t high-school anymore, bro.”

Five minutes later Avi gets kicked out of the party. Feeling a little responsible, I carry his drunk ass home.

We get to the dorm and he tells me he has to take a shit. We’ve all been there before, I already told my version of this story. No shame in it.

I take him to the bathroom, he pulls his pants down and I plop him on the bowl and start to walk away. With his head leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall he asks me, “Jay. Wait, wait, wait. Can you jus’ hang out fer a sec?”

I feel bad for the kid so I decide to hang out, I don’t know, in case he needs help. And he’s squirting pretty loud, blasting ass, door to the stall wide open and making all these grunts and I’m standing off to the side, dying inside.

And then he exploded.

What I mean by exploded is, he falls off the bowl, begins convulsing on the floor, while vomit, shit and piss come out of him at the same exact time. He fucking exploded.

And he’s writhing around on the bathroom floor in his own puke, piss and shit and I just stand there, shocked, having no idea what to fuck to do in this situation.

He finally stops and lies there peacefully on his side – the most disgusting spectacle I’ve ever seen. My opinion, at the time, was that I did plenty for this annoying bastard and there was no way in hell I was going to go near him.

“Avi, you ok?”

Very faintly I hear a “Yeah.”

“Cool, listen, I gotta go to bed. Don’t roll over on your back, ok? Stay on your side.”

Quietly but audible Avi tells me, “Jay. Put me in the shower.”

“Gotta go, buddy. Great party tonight. Sleep well.”

Went to the lounge, told everyone what just happened. They all had to go in to at least look. We laughed our asses off for the rest of the nights and the weeks that followed.


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