A Bit Crazy

It’s true. I was heavily into Tom Waites when he was into his Jazz mangue, semi-Bukowskiesque nightclub thing. “Slip me a little crimson, Jimson; I’m on my way to town.” And yes, it probably had a lot to do with it flashing me back to the sort of joints I was prone to hang out at during a, shall we say, a certain point in my life.

Thankfully, some people have known me since who wouldn’t fathom how I’m connected to that earlier life. Sometimes, I am in doubt about how it came about, too.
I’m lucky that the people who value me don’t find it challenging that I’ve led multiple lifestyles. I may be complicated, but so often, that complexity has been able to suggest stepping around the snares set out for innocence in this world.

Sometimes, the results of this are funny. A few weeks ago, I was walking through the parking lot of one of the big box stores in my city. I was approached by someone who let off some very strong “I am a con artist” vibes. Being a bit bored, I listened to his spiel.
I have never been into cons or bunco, but in the sixties, my friends and I had an “almost friend”, John, who was a con artist. John enjoyed educating us, Rubes, about the nature of the con – the good, bad, and indifferent. The guy confronting me had a strong, appealing come-on but was weak on the sell and close. After listening to his delivery for a while, I did a credible imitation of John and hipped him to the weakness of his delivery.
I moved towards my car while he stood in the parking lot, trying to absorb what had happened. On the way home, I had a stupid, radiant smile on my face, and I laughed so hard that I almost drove off the road.

Sometimes, it can be challenging when the odd bits of my past poke out and make themselves known. Normally, I’ve tended to keep them tucked out of view.

You wouldn’t think that stuff would have been helpful in my work as a practicing anthropologist, but it was with my informants. Many of them had had interesting and varied lives, and my background connected with them.
But I had to keep a close seal on it with the professional associates I worked for and with. Most of them had very little self-experience with alternate lifestyles. They were mostly from upper-middle-class backgrounds and Ivy League schools. They did some Hash in college and thought they were wild. With them, I kept the wraps on.

To wrap this up, I’ll return to Charles Bukowski – “Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”