he eve of another almighty first day of public school the eve of my restricted upper class status the eve of truly the beginning of my varsity basketball career and all’s I could think about was how terrible the Patriots were going to be (again). Hey Jesus, me again, Charlie, hope your well anyway (deep breath) god I hate private school kids. What pussies anyway thank you for the Young Guns thank you for my Uncle Clayt thank you for football Sundays, the Big Guy, pills for my mom and pink milk. My mother had recently in the name of manhood snuck my Star Wars sheet out like a P. Riddy midnight ride during the day. I was sad by she knew even if I cared I wasn’t going to change them back. I didn’t make fucking beds.
Oh and Jesus thanks for my girlfriend, blonde, big boobs and heart, just like I requested, three sisters, mad Christian and a piano in the living room? Jesus when your on, sweet Jesus, you are on. And thanks the lawnmower too, I realize being with Muffin why you did that. So I’m not a complete prick. I’m so nervous about ACE. I’M WORRIED I might lose MY CONFIDENCE. Stay with me homie
The thought that life was a movie taken from a general hospital episode climaxing in the class of 94 bringing home the state title kept tomorrows promise and that was absolutely everything. The pursuit of glory and I felt it everyday the fuel which powered me out of the abyss of the bad habits experienced young freedom plugged me up in. The wonderful world of Lex-Vegas swirled inside black Boston took care of everything else that and break-dancing. I know someone’s gonna go in high school, I know it, make it me Jesus make it me
At sixteen I already thought of myself as somewhat a martyr. And every moment was calculated in a reflective capacity. I’d already died once and wasn’t scared of the blessing. Plus I knew everything. And I had the lost boys. And island of them when you’re a kid the worst is the best and it’s an hourglass. I’ve lived more life in sixteen years than any of these curtain adults. Have more upside, power and experience than these thumb in the ass privileged what faggots think it can’t happen. Let me tell you this…
I’d tell B-Dawg my first rap manager in the 7th grade. It would bring him to tears. The healing power of laughter he respected how fucked up I was. And B-Dawg like Hank and Black Knight were my cornerstones my blood brothers literally we’d all been bleeding at the same time together at one point or another. I was playing the winner take all card the longest shot against everybody Charlie Paradise all’s it would take was one good thrashing to re-set the whole shit and fit me where I belonged at the table they’d put me in (ACE program).
Not fit to judge me giving your responses to my tough questions. I’m no crash test. They call me Dream at Hayden, did you know that one Jesus?
By the time the fall of my junior year of high school rolled up I was completely deranged. And it was scary. I was quick cute with scars both visible and through the eyes that watched me walk into group therapy at the soon to be high school of mine the ACE program. “I don’t give a fuck” remains my mirrored anchor.
Breakfast Opening Day – Junior Year: The Gene.
“Know your limit’s kid remember the gene our family carries Charlie. It’s a gene not a decision I believe it Charlie I honestly believe it.” My mother correctly opined dragging a toke of her token Carlton 120, swinging a diet coke she swallowed a Xanex. And (burp) continued “Both you and your sister got it. And your father I mean, the ADD do you know when you were born he showed up drunk during the delivery and puked all over the emergency room! The nurses were like taking more care of him than me. You have to be careful, because your so hyper and impulsive, Junior in high school now” “Ma, come on stop, don’t build this up. I got this” “But” “please” “but” “please” “Charlie! Your not like other kids, your blessed but challenged and listen kiddo no ones a bigger fan of yours than me. I know you have a good heart I know you think all the kids will think your abnormal when you have to go the ACE program at the first bell of the school year but ” “MA!” “Well I know it’s -.” “I got this” “OK sorry let s head bash. Sit down for breakfast”
As I continued mulling through the list of thoughts I promised myself I’d give some attention to this morning I began to think that this was a whole hell of a lot of shit to cover before I’ve had a bowl of frosted flakes (hahahahahahahahahah).
“Can you believe it mom, Charlie Paradise an official upper class man, take a bow sport!” Brooke hitting me in the nuts ala the old mans favorite line and trick, “Oh!” It worked every time. And I took a bow. Brooke Boston Paradise cracking up over a natural next step for all incumbents into a larger world she’s already finding Woody Allen humor in what explosion I might cause next. With teenage next steps came new freedoms most notably open campus, for everyone of course except me. Yo with my dope summer officially over I in the name of life past sixteen need to think of anything besides all the things I don’t have.
I was maybe beginning to get it. After my mother quadrupled checked my entire outfit to ensure clean cut, no cane, pants pressed with a crease, first day, great looking children, Dana was off. “By mom! See you at school Carl!” Mom and myself raced to the window and saw a car full of her friends peel out with cigarettes hanging out of every window. “She didn’t tell me some maniac race car driver would be screaming in here to get her out of the blue, were they all smoking in there? Was that a joint?” “You smoke?” “Please Carl, don’t start I want you to have a good day.” “Yeah I will, big year, I’m the man. Where’s Carolyn?” “You’ve been saying that for years. Carolyn is just like a little sister to you.” The end of the summer on my cul-de-sac was always defined by the imminent return of my sisters Porsche and Mercedes and even though I sometimes hated them, I love them both. Waiting forever, finally Carolyn shows up right on time. “Carolyn!” My mother yells like the Pope had entered our kitchen. “Well I heard you guys made it to the finals in the summer league Carl congratulations.” Mercedes smiles for our “hi” hug! She is very proper when she wasn’t screaming and still I was quite certain carried a booty that had yet to be officially taxed. I knew because she had been dated all my friends. “Yeah we did.” Carolyn, closest to me in age finally asks me a question after rolling off the different Ivy League schools her summer pals were attending and where she thought she wanted to (yawn) apply. “OK time to go to Magic’s?” “Wait he got a car and a license?” “he’s driving his brothers, pretty special day for us Carolyn Michelle.” “you guys always get excited over the dumbest things.” And we slink in to my mothers Ford Taurus to drive us the five-minute walk to Mike’s. We’ve already discussed the excitement and usual disasters for me on opening day. It wasn’t a baseball game but kind of was. The commute kicked it all off. Mike’s older brother Josh (LHS class of 89) lent him his car for our first day as an upper classman. Porsche was away at college. After running out of my house with my hands over my years. Pattle, Pat, Pat, pat, pit, pit, pit,. Pit, you could hear and see the uzi bullets creating mini “Good morning Magic.” “Well hello Mr. Junior in high school, as always you break out your best gear day 1.” Mike and I always discussed the strategy of holding your best gear out the first week and let all the masses run through their fly shit. And then in week two we’d lower the boom. “Yeah I see where your coming from as far as philosophy but I can’t overcome the urge.” So this ride while symbolic of miles traveled and new toys in our possession finally and open campus it also meant. “So C are you nervous about going right up to ACE?”
Instant and simple response, “yes.”