Pothead Poltergeists
Tattoos and Memories?
I fall asleep by the window for just a little while. It’s still bright outside though, so it really doesn’t count as sleeping. I can’t take naps. It just doesn’t work. It’s more dozing. I think about things by the window. A guy comes in out of the corner of my eye. He has some tattoos too so I turn over to take a closer look. Don’t be silly. It’s not one of the guys like you were just thinking right there. No, it’s just some guy in his twenties with a Mohawk of blue hair. Very funky I think, though he’s not the sort of person I would be attracted to, but I immediately like the guy.
Have you ever gotten that feeling where you just take a short glance at someone walking down the street and for some reason you just like them. Maybe it just means you’re a good person at heart.
I look up to check the hall, but no one’s coming so I look at the strange design on the guy’s upper shoulder from my seat. It’s one of those tribal designs. You should only really get those if it means something important to you – not just because it’s pretty. That goes for all tatts though. I guess it’s his arm and his skin so he can do what he wants with it.
Another person comes around the corner, but I don’t look up. It’s a girl I think, and again out of the corner of my eye I see some tattoos down her arm. What is with these people? I’m serious, every person has tattoos in this town. Or maybe that’s part of the reason Mike hires them. They are the type of people who can’t get jobs other places because of it. As a matter of fact, that is really sweet. Mike’s such a sweet guy.
Oh well, I love the tatt idea searching so I get up to go look. When you’re a ghost, you don’t have to be polite and stop staring at people. So hah, I’m going to stare all I want!
She was sitting too far away. So I get up, first looking suave as I do it out of habbit. Then I stamp my foot because, duh, no one sees me trying to look suave. I tell you, I think I have this invisible thing down one minute and I forget the next. Oh well, I miander over to the girl sitting down over there…
Wait, shit, that’s a guy! Not a girl, I realize once I look up, excuse me, it’s a guy. This new guy is wearing black pants and a loose black shirt. He has on a hat. One of those one’s I saw Billie Joe’s two sons’ wear once at an award show. He also has on sunglasses, but I don’t pay too much attention and look straight to the colorfulness cascading down his arm, with a much better flow than that guy sitting across from us.
Let’s see, there is a big beautifully done yellow rose – up a little by his elbow, a number 27 surrounded by a circle, a name and a photo strip…and then I feel like I was just hit with a ton of bricks and slammed against Rudy’s white brick wall.
I take a stumble backwards and land on my ass in the middle of the restaurant floor. My mouth is hanging open and my heart is beating a thousand times a minute. “You have got to be kidding me,” I say out loud, “Holy fucking shit!” I lean forward very cautiously and take a closer look at his face, “Billie?” I can see it now. His face is right there behind the glasses. I could not fucking believe it. Here he is. Right here. Right in front of me.
He is looking off into space. Maybe waiting for someone. He seems to notice we are indoors and takes his glasses off and stuffs them into his pocket. There he was. It was his face. He was so gorgeous. That is all I could think. There were his bright green beautiful eyes surrounded by the classic eye liner that we have come to expect and love, and have been staring back at me from the magazine cover for years. Who is he waiting for? And better, what do I do? He’s right here, a real person, what do I do now?!
Another man walks around the corner. I flip around thinking it’s someone else that’s going to give me a heart attack, but it’s only a waiter. He smiles and brings over a cup of coffee, handing it to Billie Joe who takes it graciously and a, “Thanks man.” I knew he likes coffee. I like coffee too. Coffee and tea. Now I want some. No, not really. I can’t eat anything right now. I’m standing next to Billie Joe Fucking Armstrong.
“No problem,” the waiter said. This was freaking amazing.
“Do you know if Mike is supposed to get here?” Holy shit, and that sure as hell is Billie’s voice too. Crap, it almost doesn’t sound right. He’s not speaking into a microphone or a TV or anything. Just him right there in front of me.
“Saw ‘em this morning already actually. He had breakfast and left. Said he’d be at the studio if one of you came in.”
“Ok. Thanks. Damn that guy is up early.”
The waiter laughed as he walked away.
Then Billie just sat drinking his coffee quietly. Now what? I feel the drastic need to do something but I can’t. He can’t see me. He can’t even see me when I’m on the floor on my ass freaking the fuck out and he is just sitting there and drinking his coffee! On second thought, it’s a really good thing he can’t see this…
If he knew this was all going on I am sure he would be thoroughly creeped out. Never mind that. I think I will just stay here on the floor for awhile. This way I won’t fall back down again because I know I am going to.
As I am sitting here thinking this to myself and just staring, Billie manages to finish his coffee in what seems thirty seconds flat, but it was really more like ten minutes. He gets up out of his chair, scaring the shit out of me and my little star-struck state, and starts to walk out, waving to the girl at the counter as he goes.
“Shit,” I bumble after him. Billie puts his sunglasses back on as he opens the door, and I slip out two steps behind. Slow the hell down Billie Joe! I can’t keep up when I forgot to breath for the last ten minutes there. Why is this such a big surprise? Oh, fuck that, we all know why, it’s Billie Joe Armstrong. Duh.
He walks over to his little car and gets inside. I think about getting in, but I am not just going to open the door. Then I remember, I push on the side of the car and fall through the door into the back seat giving the car a little shake, but Billie does not seem to notice. “Phhew,” that was a relief, and before I have another second to think he drives off.
So here I am, sitting in the back seat of Billie Joe Armstrong’s car. If only it was for another reason. He is absolutely gorgeous is all I keep thinking as I watch his hands turn the wheel of the car. It was one of the most trivial and automatic thing, but it’s amusing for a reason I can’t tell you, other than it just is.
Have you ever gotten that feeling where you just take a short glance at someone walking down the street and for some reason you just like them. Maybe it just means you’re a good person at heart.
I look up to check the hall, but no one’s coming so I look at the strange design on the guy’s upper shoulder from my seat. It’s one of those tribal designs. You should only really get those if it means something important to you – not just because it’s pretty. That goes for all tatts though. I guess it’s his arm and his skin so he can do what he wants with it.
Another person comes around the corner, but I don’t look up. It’s a girl I think, and again out of the corner of my eye I see some tattoos down her arm. What is with these people? I’m serious, every person has tattoos in this town. Or maybe that’s part of the reason Mike hires them. They are the type of people who can’t get jobs other places because of it. As a matter of fact, that is really sweet. Mike’s such a sweet guy.
Oh well, I love the tatt idea searching so I get up to go look. When you’re a ghost, you don’t have to be polite and stop staring at people. So hah, I’m going to stare all I want!
She was sitting too far away. So I get up, first looking suave as I do it out of habbit. Then I stamp my foot because, duh, no one sees me trying to look suave. I tell you, I think I have this invisible thing down one minute and I forget the next. Oh well, I miander over to the girl sitting down over there…
Wait, shit, that’s a guy! Not a girl, I realize once I look up, excuse me, it’s a guy. This new guy is wearing black pants and a loose black shirt. He has on a hat. One of those one’s I saw Billie Joe’s two sons’ wear once at an award show. He also has on sunglasses, but I don’t pay too much attention and look straight to the colorfulness cascading down his arm, with a much better flow than that guy sitting across from us.
Let’s see, there is a big beautifully done yellow rose – up a little by his elbow, a number 27 surrounded by a circle, a name and a photo strip…and then I feel like I was just hit with a ton of bricks and slammed against Rudy’s white brick wall.
I take a stumble backwards and land on my ass in the middle of the restaurant floor. My mouth is hanging open and my heart is beating a thousand times a minute. “You have got to be kidding me,” I say out loud, “Holy fucking shit!” I lean forward very cautiously and take a closer look at his face, “Billie?” I can see it now. His face is right there behind the glasses. I could not fucking believe it. Here he is. Right here. Right in front of me.
He is looking off into space. Maybe waiting for someone. He seems to notice we are indoors and takes his glasses off and stuffs them into his pocket. There he was. It was his face. He was so gorgeous. That is all I could think. There were his bright green beautiful eyes surrounded by the classic eye liner that we have come to expect and love, and have been staring back at me from the magazine cover for years. Who is he waiting for? And better, what do I do? He’s right here, a real person, what do I do now?!
Another man walks around the corner. I flip around thinking it’s someone else that’s going to give me a heart attack, but it’s only a waiter. He smiles and brings over a cup of coffee, handing it to Billie Joe who takes it graciously and a, “Thanks man.” I knew he likes coffee. I like coffee too. Coffee and tea. Now I want some. No, not really. I can’t eat anything right now. I’m standing next to Billie Joe Fucking Armstrong.
“No problem,” the waiter said. This was freaking amazing.
“Do you know if Mike is supposed to get here?” Holy shit, and that sure as hell is Billie’s voice too. Crap, it almost doesn’t sound right. He’s not speaking into a microphone or a TV or anything. Just him right there in front of me.
“Saw ‘em this morning already actually. He had breakfast and left. Said he’d be at the studio if one of you came in.”
“Ok. Thanks. Damn that guy is up early.”
The waiter laughed as he walked away.
Then Billie just sat drinking his coffee quietly. Now what? I feel the drastic need to do something but I can’t. He can’t see me. He can’t even see me when I’m on the floor on my ass freaking the fuck out and he is just sitting there and drinking his coffee! On second thought, it’s a really good thing he can’t see this…
If he knew this was all going on I am sure he would be thoroughly creeped out. Never mind that. I think I will just stay here on the floor for awhile. This way I won’t fall back down again because I know I am going to.
As I am sitting here thinking this to myself and just staring, Billie manages to finish his coffee in what seems thirty seconds flat, but it was really more like ten minutes. He gets up out of his chair, scaring the shit out of me and my little star-struck state, and starts to walk out, waving to the girl at the counter as he goes.
“Shit,” I bumble after him. Billie puts his sunglasses back on as he opens the door, and I slip out two steps behind. Slow the hell down Billie Joe! I can’t keep up when I forgot to breath for the last ten minutes there. Why is this such a big surprise? Oh, fuck that, we all know why, it’s Billie Joe Armstrong. Duh.
He walks over to his little car and gets inside. I think about getting in, but I am not just going to open the door. Then I remember, I push on the side of the car and fall through the door into the back seat giving the car a little shake, but Billie does not seem to notice. “Phhew,” that was a relief, and before I have another second to think he drives off.
So here I am, sitting in the back seat of Billie Joe Armstrong’s car. If only it was for another reason. He is absolutely gorgeous is all I keep thinking as I watch his hands turn the wheel of the car. It was one of the most trivial and automatic thing, but it’s amusing for a reason I can’t tell you, other than it just is.