Sleepwalking in Anger

Carl didn't sleep much on the long flight back to New York from Middle Earth. From Ladrone, to Honolulu until Houston he was wedged bewteen a very large man from Montana and the plane window. A pleasant enough man, but much too big for his seat. His right often side slipped over the arm rest onto Carl's side. Recorded reminders of airline safety, staying buckled and adjusting to current time zones were constant. The Houston flight was turbulant and late. Oola was there to great him at Newark Liberty, Carl was grateful, he was so sleep deprived from the 20 hour flight that he would have rode the airport monorail in circles. He gave her a few gifts, a clock shaped like a plumeria and neclace made from ratsnake bones. "Unusual" she said. The sun rose twice as the plane crossed the international date line. Carl would "gain" a day back, it was now Friday, February 24... again. Although Carl adjusted his watch from Middle Earth Standard Time to Eastern Standard Time, recovering from jet lag will be an endevered adjument in these next coming days.

Community Service: Saturday. Feb. 25
It was Community Service Saturday. Carl caught his train to East New York. It was 28 degrees that morning, a complete shock after sweating in hot tropical Ladronean weather. Oola was a little peeved at Carl, she said he pushed her out of bed... TWICE. (Again, sorry sorry sorry) Carl rememered dreaming about making flour tortillas, swimming with sharks, and riding a mantaray... but not the movie "Fight Club". When he got to the Broadyway Junction station the blue van was at capacity, he rode with H-----, one of new the guys that drove to East New York that morning. The probation motorcade of four cars tail-gated the blue van in and out of the traffic until they reached their destination in lower Manhattan. H-----'s driving made Carl think he was in the "Scared Straight" program. H----- is from West Texas.

Through a jet lagged fog a deep voice called out. "Hey Mr. Chen. Mr. Chen! Yo, you're steeping on the paint roller!" It was Mr. B----- and he was talking to Carl. Carl motioned a demonstrative hand to his chest "Me? It's Carl, my name is Carl. I left you a message two weeks ago when my father passed away." "Alright Mr. Chen, I got you logged down for that." Carl Wondered if Mr. B----- gave some other guy named Chen some time off. Depending on the degree of his tan, Carl has been mistaken for Thai, Loatian, or Central American.

I was so sleepy that I must have primed the same corners at least twice. A friend later asked if I should have gone to Community Service at all. I replied that I don't need to be conscious to provide the quality of work that CS needs. Despite my careful trim work, a guy with a roller just plowed over the sockets and switches. After going through most of Kings County court buildings, I now know why they are so badly painted. Mr B----- told me to slow down and leave some work for the next crew. Go figure.

When I got home I went through my luggage and sorted laundry, I made a few calls. I unpacked some of my father's personal affects and looked them over more closely. My father's traditional formal shirts are made from piña fiber. The spider lace is very detailed, hand stitched with delicate rice, leaf and palm patterns on the sleeves and chest. They have to be handwashed and lightly starched. Some of them need a little repair. When I soaked them in cold soapy water, it was as if my father walked in the room. I could smell his cologne over the mothballs and tapioca starch. It would take a few more soakings to remove dirt and fragrance. It made me sad. I plan to save these for my nephews, they don't fit me really.

I unpacked his table lighter, my mother gave it to me the morning I left. My father was a smoker before my parents married. It was made by Ronson Crown Company in Newark, NJ... ah, the golden age of smoking paraphernalia. It is tarnished but I remember it looked so important on the side table on majong night. But back then Newark, NJ seemed mysterious and exotic too.

It was now 4:00 am. When sleep was caught up with me, I put on my fathers ring and went to bed.

Anger Management: Monday, February 27
I left a message on Sunday with the Anger Management counselor, Mr. L----, t oremind him who I was and that I was back in town. Otherwise I might be addressed as some other ethnicky guy. Oi vey.

While Carl was away, the group had gone to a Nets game. Carl is not a sports fan. There will be more group events ahead. An angry feild trip perhaps?

Monday was a lecture night with pizza, a man known as Malcom spoke about his travails of the system. He's been to every jail from Woodburn to Sing Sing and back. He has a total of 19 counts of felony. If this were a TV movie the description would read "One man's tale of survival in US Federal Prisons." I could see that most of he men in the group related to his story. He demonstrated how he got a job with the MTA when everyone told him to give up. I have to admit he was very inspiring. He gave solid advise on getting gettings jobs, taking tests, resources. He let them know that they have to manage their records and rap sheets closely. My feelings are little mixed that some of these men might one day be operating my train, but more power to them.

Although I'm required, I had nothing to contribute to a group discussion. Its become obvious that I've never been to jail. Mr. L---- announced that I was away becuase I recently lost my father, they group relayed their condolences. The guy with the do-rag gave me the homie salute, he pounded on his chest and made a fist. Was I in? Do I want in?

This night was a double session since Mr. L---- would be out of town second week of March. That meant that we are ahead of schedule, we are now at week 7 of 12.

Epilogue
The jet lag and the funeral have taken their toll. I have to write everything down just so I can remember what I'm doing next. I drift in and out of days and nights on a 14 hour time difference. Although I try to get to bed at a logical time, my body wants lunch at 4:00 am. I've actually seen the sun rise twice this week, which isn't bad unless it meant you haven't slept and you've watched the sky change color from your window. I've seen the Lunesta commercial so many times that I hum that sad-clown jingle in the shower. Now here's a drug company that really does its research.

So where do I buy tapioca starch for my father's shirts?

Scores on the board:
6 - 3 = 3 IC sessions
12 - 7 = 5 AM sessions
70 - 32 = 38 Community Service hours, Note: not sure about this, inquire