Fair Weather Friends [Journal 7-5-17]

Naruto Shippuden – Girei [“Courtesy”] (Pain’s Theme Song).

Due to having just talked to him, it occurs to me that discussing my friend would help reveal my nature. Yes, I said “friend,” not “friends.” It might be argued that Samoa is a friend, but I haven’t seen him in sixteen years, so I don’t count him. You could also count Fatty, but I haven’t seen him in.. seven years; and I wouldn’t trust him with a spoon, even if hanging out with him was always fun as hell. You might also count old work buddies, whom offered me help or lodging if I was in a jam, but they haven’t been tested.

So, now, I’m down to one friend. I used to have two, but my longtime gaming buddy had one of his fits a few months ago, and I haven’t heard from him since. He may return, he may not; he gets pissy at me when I point out he’s doing something stupid. Last time he did this, he came back after a few months, buying me a thoughtful and expensive game, through Steam. He pretended like nothing had happened. Our online gaming friendship lasted.. 10 or 12 years; we’ve never met, but always use voicechat.

So now, I’m down to one friend. We’ll call him.. Mr. Fister, after his meaty hands and forearms. Mr. Fister is an old co-worker of mine, at the repairman job. He’s gotta be around.. 6′ 5”, and 350-450 pounds. I’m not good with weight. He’s got a big gut on him, but you wouldn’t exactly call him fat; he’s very strong, and can work like hell, he just has a layer of fat over all the muscle.

Mr. Fister scares most people. Not because he could literally tear a person in half, but because he’s ineloquent [but is intentionally polite, unless calling out some savage on their behavior], has a large viking-esque beard, and I think has tattoos. He’s not remotely as concerned with philosophy and psychology as I am, but simply dealing with shitheels all the time has forced him toward the subjects, as they have me. 

In his private life, he’s sort of a metalhead/stoner/drinker/and an avid fisherman. Not a drunk. Nor braindead/crazy like most stoners; he sticks to the strains that physically relax him, rather than the ones that alter his mind. And he’s not antisocial, like allot of metalheads. He’s a true fisherman, not one of those twats who does it to show off.

He has a family he is clearly the head of, not for being male, but for being the strongest mentally and physically. He has a father – whom is so ill that he’s occasionally ambulanced to the hospital – that he visits very regularly and sees after. And, of course, he works the job where he and I met. The job that placed absurd demands on us.

Most people don’t like Mr. Fister. Even our co-workers, whom would never deny that he was a hard, reliable, and skilled worker, would regularly vent to me about his behavior. Personally, the issues they were upset about, I did not find to be issues. Essentially, he brought up issues, merely so they could be solved, that others would rather pretend didn’t exist – no matter how problematic those issues were.

I hope you can start to see why I like the man so much. Though granted, he is prone to ranting, I personally find it enjoyable to listen to – because I fully agree with his complaints. While others viewed him as meddlesome and perhaps obsessive, I viewed him as – mostly – being a smart worker; he, extremely rarely, handled a mechanically problem incorrectly. But far more importantly, he always did the right thing. Even when the people he was dealing with were complete and total human garbage.

When I was hired at that old job, I was given around a month’s training, bounced between 4 people, basically being taught the same unimportant info over and over; the company is poorly ran. So, when I was out on my own, having to repair machines I’d never touched, with methods and tools I’d never seen, I was fucked.

Guess who always had my back. Guess who I could call at any hour – night or day, no matter how busy he was, or if he was fucking sleeping, or if I had no idea what I was doing – and talk me through the job until it was fucking done. Guess who was happy to do so, out of a sense of solidarity.

The fucking guy that everyone hates, everyone’s afraid of, but everyone still fucking leans on – Mr. Goddamn Fister. He and I, basically, have the same philosophy: if people all got along, and did the right thing, life would be easier and better for everyone; but most people are too fucking stupid to manage something so incredibly simple, and instead make everyone’s lives – including their own – worse.

Simultaneously knowing that solidarity is the best choice, yet that most people are incapable of it, we share the opinion that those people need to have a wide variety of their rights forcibly removed. Oddly, our perspectives make us unpopular among the irresponsible masses, whom desperately need their hands held every second of the day.

He and I talk once every couple months. He calls or I call; I usually let him call, because he’s very busy. We haven’t seen each other since my last day of work. But our talks usually last an hour or two. During those conversations, we talk about our mutual problems, compare perspectives, pep-talk each other, all that good stuff.

In our conversation today, he really helped me out emotionally, because I needed to talk to someone who was sane, so that I could feel like life wasn’t, as always, exclusively throwing combative lunatics and retards at me whom are merely upset by our differences.

He understood what was going on, discussed related experiences he’s had, etc. He sympathized, told me he’d try to help me if I get kicked out, and we talked about my needing to find work. Apparently the company, which I used to work for, and he still works for, is still in desperate need of workers, and becoming increasingly so. I haven’t wanted to return to them for many reason, but the primary of which is the goddamn oncall cycle.

You work 4 regular days, then immediately, 7 days wherein you take all off-hour calls, in an area that takes 4 or more hours wide by car, then work a final regular day. I can deal with the rampant incompetence of our company, and the companies we deal with, and even tolerate the absolutely garbage people that run the stores we service.

But that oncall is a killer, and not remotely worth the pay. However. Since my leaving, all the old models of machines, that gave us the most trouble, have been replaced. According to him, oncall is now quiet. I’m tempted to go back, even if the company is going downhill – and working with him again is a big factor.

But that aside, having him as a friend, even if I rarely see him, and we rarely talk, is very important to me. Having even one person, whom I only very rarely interact with, whom shares some of my most important perspectives, makes me feel like I’m not hopelessly alone – and consistently vilified despite being correct.

Thank you, Mr. Fister; you are superior to all the worthless animals who collectively shit on your life; whom in a just society, would be licking your asshole for a chance they might be near, as you momentarily utter wisdom they could never independently conceive – in the form of a fart.

Or maybe I’m a megalomaniac, and am using him as a device throughwhich to validate my irrational perspectives. Ah, I forgot. The last few days, I’ve been unable/deciding not to get out of bed til later afternoon, because of the feeling of insecurity generated by my worthless roommates. Arguably, this needs to be resolved before I make my next move regarding work, but still.

Oh, and the landlord hasn’t so much as texted me, which he usually does before the fifth. I’m sure that’s a great sign. I’ve been waiting, hoping to make him comfortable, and will text asking what he wants to do tomorrow.


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~ by Louis Naughtic on July 5, 2017.

One Response to “Fair Weather Friends [Journal 7-5-17]”

  1. Hmm… fart as wisdom… me likey… or me lick-ey… ugh…

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