It was a snowy morning and I was grounding up the coffee beans for the french press and almost could taste the flavor through the aroma of the oils coming off of the beans as the crushed each other into oblivion. I remember this morning like no other morning I had ever experienced. I was so fucking tired of being broke all the time and constantly thinking about money, everything money, this money, that money. I was thinking so much about money that I thought it had something to do with my happiness. It was very pathetic.
Little did I know that this morning would show me something about this realization that would blow my mind right out of my fucking head. I was very worried about not being able to pay the rent because two weeks previous I had been working at a bar in Boston and the bar got shut down because our manager got caught embezzling ten or fifteen thousand dollars to support his crystal meth habit and its funny how all of this worked itself out too because the night before this had happened he went berserk on me for no reason at all. I knew he was acting very strange from his behavior, he was like a hurricane running through the place yelling and screaming at people for no reason at all. On the binge, on the edge of the addiction. I burst into tears this night and fell into pieces because it reminded me so much of where I had been in my life in the past with being yelled and screamed at all the time for no reason. After this happened Tina brought me out to this bar and we had a drink with a few people from the bar and I was so pissed off. I had a glass of wine and cooled down then I walked home.
Along the way, I had all of these thoughts of smashing this guys face in with a baseball bat or breaking his legs and watching him try to walk. During this point in my life, I wanted nothing more than to torture, maim or even kill every person in the world who inflicted any kind of pain on me. It was the past creeping up in my body and mind. Those old ghosts reminding me of where I had been. So enough of that kind of intensity because everything worked itself out the next day. The owner of the bar showed up and he was this big wig mafioso guy from south-Boston. He started taking shit over again. The manager who stole the money had fled and was nowhere to be found. I don't even know what happened since these days. So back to my morning coffee. I added the hot water to my ground up beans and it started steaming everywhere filling up the apartment I lived at on royal street in lower Allston.
I decided I was going to let go of all ideas of money and just say fuck it, what does it matter if I think about how much money I don't have or how much money that I do have. It's useless and hasn't gotten me anywhere in the twenty-three years I had been on the earth at that time. So I finished my coffee and put my jacket on and such and walked out the door to go to the bar to paint it. Since Jack had gotten back he decided he was going to turn the place into an upscale bar, a place for wise guys to go to and drink their hard liquor and bang their broads and live that whole life you see in the movies about the old Italian mobster guys. It's funny too that this was what was going on because the place actually had been that kind of place way back in the fifties and some of the older crowd who came in for drinks would tell me stories all about it. It was a private gentlemen's club where five guys ran it and only let it other wise guys from the neighborhood. So I am walking out the door and it's snowing a little bit and the streets are a ghost town, its cold outside and a little tiny wind is blowing.
I get to the end of Royal Street and just like in a dream there are twenty dollar bills blowing everywhere in the wind. Spiraling like a tornado and I am like holy shit is this a dream. I pinch myself to see and the pinch hurts so I know this is real. I run and start grabbing the money blowing in the wind. It's amazing. When I make a movie this is going to definitely be a scene. I run to the train with a big wad of cash in hand and count it on the way and realize that it is five hundred dollars. five hundred dollars blowing in the wind and my rent is five hundred and I had nothing to put towards it that day until this happened.
Every time I recollect this story, I find money.