I had to reteach myself to read, so writing...it's a bit taxing. Writing in chronological order, way trickier. That's why I'm going with a blog. Journal form entries as they come to me kinda makes sense. So I thought I'd use my first entry to let you know who I am....starting with who I was 10 years ago...from someone else's perspective....who's name I haven't gotten permission to use yet. He wrote this about me when we were roommates. All following spelling errors aren't my own and the story only represents a year span of my thirty years. Trust me, you'll read how I've changed.
ZACH
There really isn't any one way to describe Zach. Zach is better explained through a series of stories that I have already told mostly everyone I know, and quite a few people I don't really know. Zach Hawkesworth was the recipient of several unofficial global titles. These titles included the galaxy's laziest and the most repugnant. I believe very firmly that he was prouder of these titles that anything. Zach in himself can be referred to as a story in itself, as hard as it is to tell it.
Zach was my roommate for the better part of a year. This would prove to be the most interesting time that I could have possible imagined. Zach never ceased to amaze me and Thom, my other roommate. Thom and I would stand idly by for hours on hours waiting to see if Zach would move. Moving was displeasing to Zach, as the only complaint you would ever here from him was the daunting journey from the recliner to the front door. This was five feet of exercise for Zach, and was without question the worst part of his day. Standing up was far more taxing than masturbation, which would have been his only other apparent recreation. Zach was resiliant, and he was clever. Without any frustration Zach remedied the conflict of standing by committing himself to only watch one channel on the television all day; comedy central. All day for Zach was from the hours of three p.m. to 4 a.m. At 4 a.m. Zach would make one choice, the only variable in his waking life from day to day. 4 a.m. typically meant that one way or another, he was going to have to stand up. Comedy Central converts to an infomercial station after 4. Zach would stand, with no other option. Zach could not bear to sleep in a recliner, he also could not bear infomercials. What the meek feel when they don't eat for a day is the same as what Zach feels when he stands up.
The four o'clock choice: sleep or Texas Justice. Texas Justice won every night that I observed, although according to Zach there were times where sleep won out. Texas Justice is a television show where a redneck casts his judgements in small claims court cases. Zach loved this show more than he loved any person he had ever met. He wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't moan. There was complete silence during Texas Justice. This comforted him. This was a moment where Zach was alone in his own sector of the universe, monitoring what was happening on a far away planet. There was silence.
Then there was sleep.
The next day would begin like the last. The television is awake shortly after he is. It flickers as the channels speed by, on their way to their long-term destination of Comedy Central. The laptop is next. Zach sits the laptop in his lap and pulls up the pizza website. The pizza is on it's way.
There was beer.
Zach would sit.
There were girls.
Zach would sit.
From time to time we would sit down next to him, on the floor, and watch the television with him. At these occasions we would talk to him about what was on. He would announce it, he would watch it, and there wasn't much else to it.
As with any situation, there were circumstances that would demand different behavior. There were times that he left the house, but they were rare.
Zach was a millionaire, he had inherited a great deal of money from his father, who passed when he was young. This hefty cusion was delivered to him in monthly installments of 1,666 dollars. This was more than enough for any normal man, but not Zach. Zach's bank account was always empty. The laptop. The laptop was Zach's portal to the outside consumer world. This is where he ordered porn and new clothes. The clothes he had were soiled and smelled awful. New clothes were clean. This process was more costly but took far less effort than doing his laundry which throughout his one year stay he managed to avoid. Febreeze (who knows how you spell this shit) was also easier. Once a month or so, he would stand in the middle of his room with a bottle of febreeze and squirt and spin and squirt and spin. This was typically after he had run out of new clothes even.
There were parties.
Zach would sit.
There was coffee houses.
Zach would sit.
He is one of the greatest people I have ever met. Like the buddhist monk, Zach rid himself of his most trivial of desires by redefining what was trivial. Money was trivial, but pizza was important. Health was trivial, but porn was important. Although I think it was a lonely existance, Zach consoled himself by avoiding all things that he found unpleasant. Movement was unpleasant. No goal. One mission: To make it to Texas Justice.
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