Part One: Our Young Wasted Lives
Once upon a time, I had a friend closer than a mere brother. We met in the 2nd grade in the lousy american public school system. Both of us being die-hard pranksters and sharing our hatred of all authority, we gravitated to each other, it was only natural. Everyone else in our classes were either obviously dumb, or "goody-two shoes" types, and neither type particularly appealed to either of us for company, so we chose each other I guess.
Other kids called him Joey, and I was the only one that called him Joseph. He told me many years later, this choice seemed "stuffy". I still haven't figured out what he meant.
Ever since our first meeting, we were always together, through the rare good and more common bad. As it turned out the bad was usually us. As wayward and completely amoral teen boys growing up in Buffalo NY, we were never common among our peers. Mischievous, completely irreverent to all forms of authority; uncaring about rules and conformity, we existed only within the devilish side of life. Creating shenanigans was our shared specialty. Neither of us was a fan of enforced order.
Chaos ran in our veins. Both causing and witnessing it, we enjoyed the chaotic shows that unfolded just for our personal amusement. Something indefinable set us apart from our other young peers, and it wasn’t just our borderline criminal behavior. We utterly scoffed at the rules and laws of society. Boundaries were for lesser souls, not our kind. To be completely honest, neither of us ever gave a crap. Both of us were hopelessly contemptuous of all authority by our shared nature. In fact, we subscribed ourselves fully to screwing over "polite" society, its rules, laws, and especially its moral and ethical limits.
As mischievous youths, we also prided ourselves on being utter chameleons to accomplish our chaotic deeds. Brothers of a kind, and ideally molded for our chosen purpose. With the perfect demeanor for it, armed with a carefully chosen wardrobe specifically for innocuously blending in anywhere downtown. We camouflaged ourselves to fit wherever we shouldn’t have or would ever be allowed to be normally. Our combined devious intelligence was a whole other matter, perfect for causing light fun mayhem of all sorts.
We were equals, yet different in special ways that complemented each other. Very much alike in the little things; What made me laugh, made Joseph laugh, and the things that upset him also upset me. We didn’t share blood, but spirit. Kindred souls matched in the things that truly mattered to us both— mischief, chaos and shared brotherhood.
As chaotic young men everything that we were, did, and believed was the very opposite of these society-conformed “normal” folks.
Any wild idea that blossomed into our young lunatic heads was something we’d often try together, regardless of the risk to life and limb. "Just Do It" became our shared mantra, long before a certain famous sneaker company. That was who and what we were, young strange juveniles looking to stir up the bubbling pot of a world that seemed enslaved by ridiculous levels of order.
High school was not a thing either of us ever experienced. I never attended even the first year of high school due to years spent in a mental institution and then stashed away into an infamous boy’s home. Joseph ended up stuck in juvenile hall, and jailed later on, so much so that it took away all public school credit, so neither of us ever bothered trying to go back. No point to it by then. Both of us being raised as we both were, never once had we ever agreed to follow the “rules” of such an ordered society that we happened to be born into.
We were the epitome of rejects, misfits, or pariahs if you prefer. Although Joseph was slightly less of one than myself.
Both of us did our own thing, independent of the social contracts of what is expected of all of us, being assumed members of said society.
We collectively didn't believe in such matters, nor did we really care. We only believed in doing our own thing our way, and screw "polite and proper" society.
These weren’t even common considerations for us. We didn’t even think about such things in our wasted lives. Both outcasts, often due to our choices, and often from others’ treatment of us as well, and I figured it would always be this way in our unique existence.
We did unscrupulous things daily, uncaring of how “right or wrong” they were considered.
Like kicking the old blue milk machine a mere few blocks from Joseph’s house. Upon a hefty kick in the correct spot, it would spit out change from other customers (the ones who were naïve enough to actually pay for milk), like a crooked slot machine. Which we’d in turn use to buy our milk (chocolate of course), then kick it again to get the change back. It wasn’t murder certainly, or robbing banks, or jacking cars, but it wasn't exactly moral or legal either. The poor blue milk machine retained a permanent dent in just the right spot where the eager foot would go, very convenient and easy pickins' I must say.
As highly mischievous and criminally-minded boys wandering freely in the city of Buffalo, downtown was our perfect devilish playground. We were bold, obnoxious, forceful, fast, and devious as hell. If there was something we figured we could get away with, we certainly gave it our best efforts.
At a young age, I had a small studio apt right on the edge of downtown Buffalo, on the 15th floor of a business/residence tower. This became not just our home, but our lair, and place of literal refuge.
During the weekdays, we cruised downtown like we owned the place, no location was off limits to us, unless we were physically ousted, or chased (which did happen from time to time, often with humorous results, keystone cops style chases would sometimes ensue).
The majestic edifice of City Hall became our main hangout spot, the clean bathrooms, the cafeteria, as well as the various corrupt politician's offices. It was an elegant old-school place to pass our wasted young lives.
Strangely enough, The main place mall in downtown Buffalo was mainly a dead mall, but it became our own unusual playing field.
In the circular food court, we’d grab gigantic coffees in the morning and sit in the large vista-like windows there. Watching all the bustling human activity in our playground while sipping colossal-sized cups of coffee, and dreaming of new chaotic deeds to do for the day.
We daily used ties and dress shirts like a sort of psychic and aural armor. Its amazing what is allowed with a tie vs a mere casual t-shirt. Certainly its a biased thing.
We had lots of business ties that we switched out, and we had the young professional look down completely. Being essentially dirt poor, we had to use our minds, guile, and boldness to complete our ultimate business look, to blend, and do what we wanted in downtown Buffalo, whatever that might be.
The elegant clothing finished the illusion, we would appear young office-type workers, not teenage hoodlums, which is in fact exactly what we really were.
Little mattered to us, besides our personal pleasures, having fun, and various random idiosyncrasies of the moment, nothing mattered in the real world to us certainly. The few things that did matter were whatever free lunacies we could squeeze out of this sad world, sometimes alone, but mainly together. United in the cause of Chaos. Nothing else had a moment’s consideration for us. Two of a devilish kind we were.
