Hello, hello, hello, all you rock ‘n’ rollers all over the world! Guy Hogan is my name and blogging is my game.
It will be a mostly cloudy day in The ‘Burgh today with periods of rain and a high around 60. What adventures in blogging will we share today? I slept in late today. Although I have the local 24/7 all news station on the radio, I haven’t checked any of my online sources yet. I did do my breathing and stretching exercises in case Nico’s in Little Italy does have karaoke the day (Saturday) after New Year’s Day. I have to phone Nico’s and see if they do.
I really have no eating or sleeping patterns. I eat when I’m hungry and sleep when I’m sleepy. See what happens when you don’t have a regular job to go to? Good thing I have The Gazette to give some sort of structure to my life. I don’t even have a wrist watch or a clock.
At Armand’s in Little Italy, I’ve talked to other retirees (men) who do nothing but drink. Oh, I do my share of drinking. But that’s all they do. They drink. They have no hobbies like blogging or karaoke. They are either divorced or their wives have past away and their children are grown up and have moved away. They are very lonely men. I was never married and never had children, but I do more than just drink. The Gazette keeps me very busy and gives structure to my life and in a way so does karaoke.
Well, enough about me. It’s time that I get to work.
This is Guy Hogan reporting for the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette
Hail to Pitt!
PS Even when I drink at Armand’s I’m working for The Gazette. The following story is a conversation I had with a woman at Armand’s several years ago.
I sat down at the bar and the woman who sat on the stool to my left began to tell me about the death of an old boyfriend. She was a senior citizen like me and her old boyfriend had shot himself in the head. I knew her to see her. She was a regular. She used a cane. She said I knew him, her old boyfriend. She told me his name. I didn’t recognize the name. She said I’d probably seen him in the bar; and now he was dead.
The bartender came over and took my order. He brought back a large draft and he told me that sure I knew her old boyfriend. Reddish hair. A short reddish beard. Always wore a Steelers cap and football jersey.
I said I still didn’t remember him. And I didn’t.
The bartender wandered away. The woman kept talking about her dead boyfriend. I guess she had to get it out. I looked around at the other customers and then looked at her. Drank my beer and nodded as she talked. I forget what was on the televisions, one at each end of the bar.
The poor bastard shot himself in the head.
It happened only a couple of days ago. He had tried to call her on her cellphone, but since they had more or less broken up months before she wanted to make a clean break and didn’t answer the calls. Then he shoots himself in the head. She just couldn’t understand how people could kill themselves. Okay, maybe pills. But to shoot yourself in the head? To jump off a bridge or out of a window? Now he was dead.
The bartender wandered over and said he should have known something was wrong. The night before he shot himself he was in here and he asked me if I wanted some of his stuff he was getting rid of. I didn’t want it. Something told me, he’s going to do something. The bartender walked away.
The woman said, I’ve outlived all my old boyfriends. They’re all dead. One had a heart attack. Another died of cancer. And this one shot himself in the head. I just don’t understand how you do that.
A friend of mine shot herself in the head, she went on. The two kids were upstairs and her husband was in the living room. She walked into the living room and put the barrel under her chin and pulled the trigger. How do you do that to little kids? What kind of mother does that?
She finished her draft, got off the stool, slipped on her coat and gathered up her purse and cane. She said, “It’s good to see you.”
I caught the bartender’s attention and paid for another large draft beer.