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August 15, 2008

Amends

Written by Girth McDürchstein on August 15, 2008 4:01 PM
Permalink |  Colby & Perdida  | Digg It

I spent the first two years of my L.A. Life living in a van on Fairfax in Little Ethiopia. I got to know the area pretty well, and although it’s changed a lot in the past 15 years, one thing hasn’t: Hesh Kushi Pacman, a bar that specializes in the expedient, semi-legal sale of hash and vintage arcade games. I used to spend hours there, playing games on one quarter to relieve the stress and depression of my early, fledgling career. Whenever things go badly at home or with the band, I tend to gravitate back there, to get my smoke on and crush the Galaga top score I set in 1996.

I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when I ran into Colby there last night. I introduced him to the place a few years ago, and what the hell else does he have to do? He’s an unemployed loser obsessed with video games and drugs. The pieces fit.

At first, I felt a bit awkward, with all that had happened between us as a result of Perdida, a chick I found hot but didn’t particularly like. At all. I saw him across the smoky bar but simply hunkered down in the glow of the Galaga machine, wondering if I should switch over to the inferior sequel, Galaxian, which was more isolated and had no view of the bar itself.

After about 20 minutes, though, Colby approached with a half-dozen brownies and said, “What’s up, Girth?”

“Hey, Colby,” I said softly, trying to create the illusion I wanted to devote attention to him without taking my focus off the game.

“Things have gotten bad,” he said. “It’s my fault, I guess. I overreacted in a lot of ways. It’s just that, when Dana finally left me, I felt so lost.”

“Dana was the tranny hooker, right?”

“She was so much more than that,” Colby marveled. “Nevertheless, her leaving made me feel a void until I discovered Perdida. We shared so much in common, and she gave me such a huge hard-on, I had no choice but to obsess over her to the point of stalking.”

“You’re not wrong,” I said glumly. “I don’t know what I’d do without Margo, but it’d probably involve a similar unhealthy infatuation.”

“So I just want to apologize,” Colby said. “I shouldn’t forget friends.”

“Hey, man,” I said, intentionally crashing my double ship and turning to face him, “she’s definitely worth wetting your fuck-stick over.”

I reached a hand out, and he accepted it in a tight, intimate soul handshake.

“Friends forever,” Colby said before breaking hands.

I nodded. We spent the rest of the evening smoking, eating tainted brownies, and competing in a side-by-side Galaga tournament, which I won. It feels nice to have Colby as a sober (in the “serious” sense), rational friend again.