He leaps at it. Hungry. He ducks away from it – not scared but cautious. Where is he in his head? That is always more important than where he is in the sense of occupying a physical space.
He has joked that he is a zen master, but he is nothing of the sort. He is not the stoner supreme that he once, and he does not get his drunk on as much as he has been known for; in fact he barely drank. He claimed so many times that he was living in aftermath for most of his life and that this totally explained the failings he was guilty of.
His father beat his mother in front of him and his siblings. His eldest brother took great pleasure in screwing his girlfriends with in earshot of his younger family members. And the horror stories that Jack himself could tell about the bunny boiler girlfriends that he had somehow ended up with would curl your toes.
He wasn’t bitter and he didn’t feel that he was apathetic, but there was some part of him that was resigned to the idea that he was destined to always have a colourful love life, and therefore a colourful life.
He had been arrested once for having his penis out in a public place, which was funny, because it made it sound like he had been flashing. What had happened was that he had paid someone for a blowjob and they had managed to run away before the police could do anything. And so, they couldn’t make the solicitation of a prostitute rap stick, so they had gone for a lesser charge just so they could nail him.
He liked to tell these stories – like he was collecting scars. It did seem that he was living his life like he was in a car on a hill that he had just let the handbrake off in, and he was coasting down the gill not able to really steer. He kept claiming that at some point he would do something and that at some point the aftermath would be over, but the thing was he kept embracing new apocalypses ever chance he could get, so he was always stumbling through the nuclear wasteland of some dystopic future he kept arguing himself into. He was not a philosopher, he was a wind borne seed that would bed down in a place and grow for a while.
When the head got too high some arbitrary gardener would come and scythe him down. He smiled and shrugged – it was all useless, wasn’t it?