Good deeds won't get you into Heaven.
Budget about an hour's time to get from Dallas to Fort Worth. Unless, of course, you're trapped in the living hell of rush hour, the most concrete proof yet of the futility of capitalism. No free people would choose to live like that. But it's only assholes like me who get to call the shots in a world of sheep and sycophants. And nobody I know is going to change a damn thing. Anyway, don't know how I got off on that tangent. But am I the only one who sees we're on a sinking ship?
Fort Worth is where I go to hide. Who or what from? Well, nothing and nobody to tell the truth. It's just the idea of someone looking for me. Their intentions can not possibly be honorable. Sometimes I just feel exposed here in Dallas, like I'm walking around with me fly open. At this point I've pretty much separated from everyone I used to hang with. I'm tired of hearing the same old arguments, same old fears, same old same ol'. Think what you will, bitches.
One thing I can't help is rotating through my cars. I like to drive and I like different experiences. I guess you could call me a car womanizer. A trip to Fort Worth allows me to do a fair bit of driving without ever leaving the comforts of civilization. But if I'm not trying out a new car I'll go full incognito: Honda CR-V, jeans and sneakers. Just an ordinary slob! Takes away the worry of someone sucking up to my many millions hoping they'll get a slice. It's way more obvious than you think, folks.
Turns out traffic bit me even with driving in midday so I turn off I-30 north on Beach which I knew was a major thoroughfare. Since downtown Fort Worth was blocked off I decided to try Belknap instead which is a good back door. First I had to pull over into some tool rental place parking lot and text the real estate guy I was going to meet. When I did, I heard the most god-awful grinding sound like I'd never heard before.
This part of east FW is very much lower working class. I was glad I wasn't in an Aston Martin wearing my Bontoni shoes. So when I looked up and saw this rundown burgundy two-door car stopped on the street I wasn't surprised as I noticed the driver's side front wheel had literally fallen off, sitting slanted outward from the disabled car. Jesus Christ, what a day from hell that must be. Then I thought I might do something good even though I am not good.
These sort of situations from the outside you would think would be clear cut but a million things race through your mind. Your first instinct is always live and let die. But another part says we're all in this together. And still another part wonders of your true motives. That's a lot of headwinds to fight through as I approached the stranded vehicle with its hazard lights flashing in the middle of the street.
"This is for you. A man inside said for me to give it to you."
It was a black kid and he was naturally suspicious. I had to be quick with my lie.
"What's this?" He fondled the sealed envelope and checked it front to back.
"Search me. I'm just bringing it out like this guy asked. Some guy in a suit in that Sunbelt Rental building." Bite, dammit, bite!
He tore it open to find it full of hundred dollar bills. It amounted to ten thousand but he had no way of knowing that.
"You gotta be kidding me. This some kind of set up?"
"You'll need to go inside to ask that. Hey, if you don't want it..."
He moved the envelope away from me, smiling and grateful as hell and even shook my hand. I felt a bit guilty about lying about the source so I ran back to my car and got away fast as I could. I'll never know if he tried to go inside and find the mystery donor. That's a tad frustrating but I couldn't take the chance of feeding a stray animal and having it come back to me over and over.
So I didn't have the earnest money for the real estate guy when I met him. With no cash and dressed in my crap clothes I was cursing my good deed that stripped me of credibility. The real estate in question is an abandoned garage building I found near the very hip 7th street that connects downtown to the uber hot museum district. I'd passed by it before and made a mental note of it and thought what a great place it would be to stash some cars and to have some in FW as well as Big D. Life can never be too convenient!
One of the great things about Fort Worth is their love to keep their heritage which gives it a vastly different feel than crush-and-rebuild Dallas. One of the apartment complexes on 7th refurbished an old Firestone Tire store and use that for their leasing center. Taking a cue from them, I'm going to refurbish this garage as if it were a working garage from the thirties or something. I'll do some of my own research before I throw it over the fence to an architectural firm. This'll be a real fun assignment for somebody.
So that makes two good deeds, I guess (or at least something that can be considered constructive). I don't want to be stuck being Pharaoh going around making - or refurbishing - buildings because I simply have nothing real to do, but I see now that's exactly what I will be without true purpose. Damn.
See the potential in this? I could make it part of the retro-cool scene!
I have various places in Fort Worth to stay according to my mood. One is a fabulous B and B I found called Etta's place cater-cornered from the famed Reata restaurant where you can dine on their rooftop and watch the flashing lights of downtown (but watch out for the reflecting sun in late afternoon!). Etta comes from the name of the traveling companion to Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid whose gang stopped in Fort Worth to have their picture taken, hence Sundance Square being the featured place of downtown Fort Worth.
I liked Etta's unique rooms so much I have one permanently reserved. There's a private courtyard that's just magical on a cool workday morning listening to the slaves hump it on the streets outside, like being in your mother's womb. I also like views from on high when it suits me so I bought a condo in the Omni tower at the other end of downtown. Great storm watching up there! My third place is from a set of townhouses off 7th I saw being constructed that I really liked. That's my private place.
You know, I went on the lam to San Francisco for a while without telling anyone. I figure there are two places to blend in if you have money: there and New York. I just barely have a billion. Those places have multi multi-billionaires (so does Dallas, technically). I wanted to check out the geek crowd and get away from these oil assholes and their radical right wing world view. I thought SFers would all be walking around with Spock ears and phasers but not so.
The geeks are sort of considered an occupying force by many and the geeks themselves live in this fantasy world of everyone competing to be Steve Jobs. Problem is, not even Steve Jobs was Steve Jobs - or the image of who they believe he was. There's this whole technological religion/myth they seem to think will supersede Nature. You can see the excitement in their eyes and hear it in their voices. It's the dying of the light in the world.
I returned home feeling only more useless and empty. I woke up the other night covered in sweat from a bad dream (as happens more and more). The directors of my company demanded I become involved or they'd quit. They said I couldn't just keep on having everything for doing nothing. The night janitor called me "motherfucker" for no reason other than he knew my name. It was the end of the worldly charade. Oh, my.
If I die, I want it to be in a place where I'm not known. That's why in my townhouse off 7th I have a Therapy Noose hanging from a second floor walkway railing. I get on a chair and place my neck in it and God, is it ever wonderful. Just kick the chair and all agony ceases. No more guilt or blind confusion or aching emptiness or lies. It's my only place of hope. I can't stand being around the rich crowd. I'm not capable of any sort of career. And I don't belong with the cool people like the Woman Of Fabric. I'm so, so tired of killing time. It's time I killed me.