Since Krunkaoke got shut down, I go to Rain every Wednesday. It's a gay club that does Karaoke on Wednesday nights. They have a good selection of songs, a cool light up stage, and a laid back attitude towards me including "nigga" in all of my songs. The downside is that I get hit on / groped by gay guys, but I can deal with it.
I get home at 1am and I check on my fish. They've had tail rot on and off for the past few months. I've put hundreds of dollars of medicine in the tank trying to fix them, as well as adjusting their food and cleaning the tank and doing more frequent water changes. When I moved to my new place they got a lot better, but have since gotten worse.
I noticed that one of the black tetras was doing really badly this morning. His fins had all but distenegrated and he couldn't swim properly. It was really sad - he was the only remaining fish from the first group that my friend gave me. It seems dumb to get attached to fish, but I really love them.
Now, twelve hours later, he's doing worse. He's been sucked up against the intake for the filter and doesn't have the strength to pull away from it. I nudge him with the net, but he gets sucked right up against it again. He's going to die.
With no chance of recovery, I put him in a plastic cup and walk over to the freezer. He can't keep himself upright, so he's lying on his side looking up at me with his little eye. I feel really bad... I'm about to kill him, and he has no idea. I'm sure all his fish brain knows is that I'm the guy who feeds him.
I put him in the freezer. It's the humane way of killing fish - as if killing things is humane. I lie down on my bed, which Evan is sitting on. She tries to console me, but I just want to stare into space and be alone. She leaves, and as soon as she's gone, I burst out crying.
I haven't cried in two years, not since I broke up with Katya. It's that same feeling, too, doing something you know is right but hurts the other person/fish (ok, I just smiled for the first time after writing that).
Then a friend who has cancer calls me with bad news. Suddenly the fish doesn't seem like such a big deal.
Well its the cycle of life dude. I had a 35centmeter Oscars, lived for 10+years , they used to eat from my hand, they could ring a bell if put in the tank, they would play with a ball in the tank, the smartest fish I ever heard of. When the first one died I gave it to the neighbours cat to eat, I couldnt watch though. Point is we are all on that way so dont fell bad, just know how preciouss is your time here and the way you treat others when they are alive.
PS: Get Oscars - Astronotus Ocelati
thanks for making me all sniffly this morning before i've even had coffee...
just think about the amazing party we'll be having when i'm better. hopefully it will involve karaoke and copious amounts of goodflow. mil besos.
Hey, I miss krunkaoke! I was just thinking about that the other day. I'll come watch you at Rain sometime soon!
Pfft a fish is not a very strong creature... Get a goldfish or better yet have your friend get you another fish.. then it's just as special.... Ohh or get a crab.. those are fun to watch.
That sucks man. When my last cat died I cried like a 4 year old girl for 2 days. He was my friend. Pets, even fish, ask for nothing, and give unconditional love. Just remember, "he's not really dead, as long as we remember him"
Wait a few weeks, cycle maybe 75% of your water, and then get fish 2.0, and pretend like the last fish was the new fish's brother.
My friend Jonah decided that he was going to break off his long standing relationship with the more common bills and use two dollar bills as the primary fodder in his wallet. I thought it was ingenious. Here's why:
I never like copying people's quirks, but this one is too good. I told him that I wanted to copy it, but whenever anyone remarked how cool it was, I would give him credit. He agreed.
I went to the bank yesterday and as I was leaving, I remembered that I wanted to get some deuces (oh, did I mention how cool all the nicknames are for them?). They had just gotten a shipment in, so I got my hands on a freshly minted stack of 100 sequentially numbered two dollar bills. Thanks for the idea, Jonah!
There were about 15 stories between me and the concrete sidewalk, with nothing but a layer of air between the two solids. Occasionally you'd have a few heads that would stick up closer, but only just, and they were far and few between on such a slow Sunday morning. The weather was beautiful, but with it being a weekend, not many were headed to work. The streets were empty, and it was serene. For the first time in years I finally felt relaxed. My legs were dangling over the edge of the building, my hands resting on the ledge, leaning back and soaking up the sun. I wanted to enjoy my last few moments, and I couldn't have taken a better day. After decades of fighting with myself, I had finally over-ruled my previous decision to live, and take the route I always intended. I was going to kill myself.
30 years ago I had tried for the first time and very nearly succeeded. I was working and spent half of my shift preparing to kill myself at home, a few hours later. The pain became unbearable, and I instead decided to move the schedule up and just kill myself at work. I was going to be dead, what did I care where the mess was or who had to clean the mess up? While this was a great theory, working in a desolate building with no one in it on the weekends, it didn't due to one factor. The building wasn't empty. There was one person in an office that I was unaware of, and he walked by at just the moment I tried. I had filled a basin and was drowning myself, and he hauled me out of the water. 911 was called, an Ambulance brought me to a hospital, which discharged me almost immediately for being perfectly fine. Neither the Hospital nor my work knew that it was a suicide attempt, both assuming it was an accident.
When I told my best friend about it, he lost his mind. I caused him a lot of stress and heart ache, and I understood why, but he couldn't see it from my perspective. He kept saying that he couldn't understand how I felt, yet immediately followed it up with a request to not kill myself based on something from his perspective. Apples and oranges. It's impossible to explain it to him, because he doesn't feel the way I do. He doesn't feel the overwhelming, agonizing grief that I felt just existing and I'm glad that he didn't. I wish though, that just for a moment, he could feel how I feel and finally clue in to why I wanted to die. I spend each waking moment fighting for control over my own mind, fighting to sustain who I am as a person, and dealing with the internal conflict of trying to piece together exactly who I actually am. Having done it for my entire life, I couldn't do it anymore.
Then came the moment. The moment when he asked me to live. The moment when he made me promise to live. The pain I felt was immeasurable, but so was the love that I have for him, so I went with his position instead of my own. I lived for no other reason than he asked me to, and I think he realized that. The next few months were rocky, to say the very least, but he stood by me. I didn't have any energy to do anything, I quit my job, and I was homeless and keeping it from him. When he found out that I was actually breaking into somewhere I used to work to sleep indoors at night, he dragged me into his house and put me on his couch. He fed me, he kept me warm, and he was there for me.
Yet throughout all of this, I never felt any different. The past 30 years have only gone by simply because of that promise, and if he had never found out about my attempt and I had the chance to try it before he did, I would have without even a second thought. The pressure was on him, and he made it aware that he was uncomfortable with it, but what else could I do? He really was the only reason I was alive and although I tried to find more reasons to live, I never could. It was always him and only ever him.