What's happening beautiful people? I'm back! Midweek like a motherfucker but what can you do? Like I said I'm trying to write a couple of blogs per week because I'm having a hard time writing comedy so if your stuck remember, if you want the water to flow, you have to open up the faucet, so here I am.
November has always been a fucked up month for me because its the month that changed my life in so many ways. My mother passed in November, so did a good friend named, Marilyn Martinez. I commited my biggest blunder of my life in 88' when I kidnapped Vella in November and I also stopped doing coke after 30 years of action in November, you catch my drift? Good and bad has happened. All of it came with a lesson so I wonder what lesson I'll learn this year.
Anyway out of respect for "Dias De los Muertos", I want to tell you guys a story about a friend of mine who passed about 11 years ago that I think about everyday of my life, his name was Darren Rago.
I met Darren when we were both in the 8th grade playing CYO basketball. I played for St.Michaels of Union City and he played for Our Lady of Libra in West New York. He was always sweet, loud and crazy, a hell of a combination. He was five foot two, what do you want to do! He would fight anybody. We both went to North Bergen high where we just became tighter as we got older. We both lived with pain at an early age. Darren's parents had split up and it really bothered him, I on the other hand had just lost a mother, I was confused and scared so it made for a perfect frienship, we watched each others back.
We hung with each other everyday but ran with different crews, it didn't matter because by the end of the night we would always end up together, in the city, or at someones apartment snorting up a storm talking about our dreams and the things we wanted from life. In reality, we were two kids on the wrong path but it didn't matter, we had each other if shit ever got crazy.
The other day while I was on the JRE podcast I spoke about my fear of blood and in the car on the way home I remembered a night when we were seniors in High school. It was the night of the senior awards, you know, best looking, best dancer, that shit. While most kids were preparing for the big night we were putting together dough to get a quarter ounce of coke, sell an eightball and snort the rest. There were four of us involved, Glen Conty, Fernie Basulto, Roger Holloway and myself.
We went into Harlem to get the quarter, from ther we went back to Jersey to meet a friend of ours Sabatino. His father owned a huge liquor store and Sabo would steal the extra set of keys and when the store closed, we'd be there ten minutes later getting are ammunition for the night. On that particular evening we decided on a few cases on Lowenbrau and a huge bottle of tequila, we were going for broke.
I forget but we ended going to someones house to get the party started, then we were going to go by the High school, catch the award show and head to some after party at a bar somewhere. We got so fucked up that we missed the show. We ended up going to a bar in Union City on twenty second street. I can't remember the name of the place, what I do remember was that the bar was across the street from Rehman's Funeral home. At the time it also doubled as the County morgue and thats where I had to go to pick up my mom's body so walking into this joint gave me the creeps as it was. Not to mention years earlier I would come to this same bar to pick up THC Crystal, the designer drug of the time. What I'm trying to say is that this bar was the real deal.
I get in there, order a drink, and I see Darren. He's fucked up and ask if I'm holding? I say yes, we go to the bathroom and do a few bumps. On the way out he told me he could get me a few qualudes, I agreed, gave him some dough and now it was really on! We walk back into the crowd and I loose Darren. I go back to hanging with my friends and before you know it the lude hits and I'm gone. Its last call and a fight breaks out. It was two guys no worries, I forgot where I was within minutes, everybody was fighting, glasses are breaking, chairs are flying, its on!
I remember throwing punches, I remember getting hit, I remember being on the floor, then I remember getting cornered by a guy holding me at bay with a broken Heineken bottle, thats when I woke up out of my haze. The guy is swinging this bottle at me and its coming close. I'm up against the wall with my back, his next swipe would definately cut me, then out of nowhere I see Darren come flying and he tackles the guy. We both get him down take the bottle from him and smack him around a little.
We see the cop lights so we decide to get out the back way. As were walking out, we both look over at the bar and its packed with cash that the people left on the bar when they ran out. We took what we could then went outside. The cops had people in handcuffs and they were trying to get the story of what had happened? I had no idea.They told me to get the fuck home as I started to walk away my shoe was making a funny noise like it was wet, everytime I stepped it made a squishy sound. I hobble to the car as I'm taking off the shoe I could see that my sock was red! The whole bottom of the sock was covered in blood. I looked at Darren and told him I was going to faint, he laughed and told me to do a bump that the coke would kill the faint. As I was going to take the coke out of my pocket I felt my legs going and that was that, I went down!
Minutes later I woke up to Darren telling me it was going to be all right. As I was coming to, I noticed that Darren was doing a bump of my coke. I looked at him and asked him what he was doing? He said a bump, I ain't fainting like you. We both laughed, walked to the car and he drove me home in his car with no heat that we called the icebox and that was that.
That is just one of our any stories which I will cherish for ever especially today. I look at Darren's picture every morning and think about the great times we had. He's been gone for 12 years now but he'll never be dead to me because in a way he lives in my heart. Thats how I feel about everyone who has passed and was there for me in one way or another. My day is always better because I know there with me looking over me, I know it sounds stupid but its my inspiration everyday.
Sit and think about someone who was special to you and is gone now. Today is there day. Light a candle, say a prayer and smile, there right next to you! Thank you reading and have a great week.