Adjusting VII

 

VII

Nothing cheers me up like sending [R] sexy pictures first thing in the morning. He resurfaces around Wednesday and my mind returns to its normal whir of craziness and anxiety. A manageable level at least. It's going to be a great day.

About a week ago a friend from the Occupy Pittsburgh camp dropped my name on a ghost hunt suggestion and I happily agreed to host a tour of the abandoned buildings with which I've become so familiar. They are arriving at 8pm with Livestream.com cameras and a supply of headlamps. I am ecstatic, bouncing off the walls, glowing like my cigarette butt in a basement that was forgotten years ago. I'm not going adventuring alone tonight! Around 5:30 I make the long journey up the hill to the Giant Eagle outside Braddock to buy beer. I end up hauling two 30 cases home on my back, much to the amazement of the sales clerk and my neighbor. 7Pm rolls by. I pick up after Brooklyn and the cats a little bit then play guitar. I'm supposed to writing a theme song for a Burrito stand [W] and an Americore worker in town, [B], are in the process of launching but my heart isn't in it. I play “The Anarchist” instead. 8Pm and I'm twiddling my thumbs, chewing off callouses and feeling dumb. Maybe this isn't happening after all. [B], calls and I tell him no ones here yet. He says not to worry and is on his way. Before I know it my phone goes off again. They are here.

Spooky stories and shots of whiskey. I proudly boast my tale of walking 60 beers on my back down from Braddock hills. Gear up and pet Brooklyn goodbye. Seven people squeeze in a car in search of the ghosts of the Ladies GAR Home, I grin as [L] screams out the window with a breath of cigarette smoke “Mutha fuckin urbex of the season! For. The. Win.”

An hour later were in hand cuffs. Giggles as our cell phones go off. “He [D] I'm instagraming you!” “I can't believe I'm in hand cuffs and it's NOT because of a protest.” “I can't believe you popped my arrest cherry!” “I can't believe I got searched for a slingshot.” “My headlamp itches.” We bond, in that strange way you do when your arrested with a good group. We return home at 2am and commence cleaning off the alcohol. It has been a good night. In the morning with the car in impound we opt to explore abandoned buildings. I immediately lead the crew to all my favorites. “Watch out for the rubble here.” I finally get to say. We discover a building I've never entered before and take our parting souvenirs. [L] gets a bar sign, [MW] gets a bottle. I get an old carpenters belt. When everyone's gone I'm in a glow and drink the last beer alone. Could it be possible? I think I might have just made friends.