Exodus & the Resurrection

The vernal equinox and another week pass, this time ending on Easter. A strange and pagan holiday all together; perversely painted eggs, intrusively large and menacing bunnies wielding pastel baskets, Jesus walking around with a gaggle of hippies, inevitable encounters with burnt-out AWOL friends and family, and a candy consumption level second only to Halloween (an almost equally sadistic affair). Let’s recap.

Monday afternoon…reclined in a state of euphoria as four wisdom teeth were pried from my noble, insentient skull I felt like a million dollars. Shortly thereafter the anesthesia wore off, though I’d realized whilst under that the world had drastically changed. In a matter of an hour the universe gave way to a new order and vision. A few fuzzy instructions and ice packs later, the general demeanor of my environment was irrevocably altered. That evening I sat down to a Passover dinner with my faculties in disarrangement and mushed down some matzah ball soup through extensively swollen jowls. My sweet, sweet Schwimmer facade, distorted and numb, looked unto the table in reverie. Enough of that.

Three days in a vic-ed out haze. There was a relentless, odious, and direct flow of celebrity pop-culture; reality TV maintained my sedation in a second person existence. I watched William Hung serenade Condoleeza Rice as they consummated their controversial gay marriage. My cloudy thoughts rested on serious issues, I was lost in severe contemplation; politics, painkillers, deadlines, milkshakes, weather conditions, bourbon, etc. Out of pills, my mind slowly spilled into coherence.

Friday night… Ohio’s very own Brett “Buzz” Busdeker graced Huntington with his peerless presence. The privilege of witnessing our bland yet surreal social life was all his as he viewed our chronic, public weekend debauchery. I often play the part of the soberer-than-thou observer as I get out of work late on the weekends. So, I get to see how immensely smashed all of my poor, struggling, ill-fated companions are by the time I meet up with them. Nothing out of the ordinary…there was shameless (and sometimes offensive) promotion and distribution of Flava Tribe by The Replicant and myself, shots, shots, a sprinkle of swank, then skeet skeet skeeting. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that although visibly stunned by the cruel levels of over consumption, Buzz was content to see people completely free their spirits, bringing to mind the days of yore at Binghamton’s Rathskeller when he would stand over the glowing, befuddled crowd, ready to bounce someone with behavior similar to that of my merry band of hipsters. Nostalgia…a wonderful concept. Needless to say it was an extremely late night and I’m not sure I’ve fully recovered from it yet. Jack Daniels is a hell of a drink.

Three hours of sleep, throbbing pain, friends crashed on the couch, big breakfast, and waiting for my man. In the car with a translucently, tranquilized Travis Mayes (I too was pacified), we encountered what looked to be a Jesus Christ cavalcade. Way too much to handle at this point, but our laughter was only matched by the dual 500 watt speakers spewing Christian Contempo from a bus, atop of which a man dressed as Jesus perched waving to pedestrians in an overtly joyous manner. The banner read, “HE HAS RISEN.” Sometimes experiences are so terribly strange that you question their authenticity, but this sight was brutally honest. Jesus literally blared down the road in a holy demonstration. We cruised behind this display along Main Street (in Anytown, USA) and observed various reactions, as did a member of the procession with a video camera extended from a sunroof. A woman jogger danced and bounced about, two old ladies on a corner clapped and waved, other passersby blushed with confusion. We stopped at an ATM where people spoke of the odd occurrence. Ok, I will admit it…the Jesus sighting was the highlight of my weekend.

Pleasant surprise, another friend from school visits. Gurge, a funky (not a junky) DJ from Islip. A nice daytime sess, a little catching up, some Flava Tribe talk (more shameless promotion), nice to see you, and I was off to work. As for the night it was pretty much the same, “no need to describe it.” However, the bars were flooded with a thousand blasts from the pasts that were in town or just surfacing for the holiday hum. Great, so I ducked out. Out, from the violently unsavory conduct, the catching up, the shamelessness, the disregard, the fancy-boy handshaking, artificially tanned, drifts of humanity, and eventually the overcrowded bar itself.

I woke up the next morning and it was Easter. My senses were immediately filled with delicious fragrances from the kitchen such as roasted lamb. My mouth thence recovered enough to chew solids. Family gathering, a delightful dinner (including exotic and precarious Greek cuisine), a boring episode of Sopranos, and bada bing bada boom. I thought about the best I felt all week; strapped back, saturated with drugs during an illusory dental procedure, overhearing casual conversation as green smocked probing practitioners discussed lunch and office gossip while ripping bone from my face. I was, to say the least, completely unconcerned with the physical state of affairs and at the same time obscenely fulfilled by calming waves of Nitrous-Oxide and Sodium-Pentothol. A happy place, if you will. In the words of Luis Guzman, “It bes that way sometimes.”

 

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