Rebel Without A Pause

11/17/96

Chris Kinesia: Suburban Cowboy

The man sat in the glow of the fireplace staring out the window into the dark. He had been like this for the past hour and thought to himself how he would continue sitting until the constant patter of raindrops on the window reminded him of the "basics of life" and he struggled to get up and see to this pressing need.

As he shuffled past the tall mirror, he reflected that the person in the mirror was beginning to achieve posture much like the shape of a question mark. "Poor fool" he mumbled as he reached his destination just in time.

On his way back to the chair, again he looked on with disgust at the man in the mirror who unlike himself, had let his body go. He said to no one in particular "I need a drink!" and got up to get his raincoat and leave. Forty-five minutes later, he managed to don his raincoat and left his house, speaking to no one along the way.

The man's name was Chris Kinesia but the Hispanic children who lived in his community called him "El Dopa". Chris didn't speak Spanish but was pretty sure that this name was one of respect. It was a fact that the patrons of the neighborhood bar respected him for one of the bar stools had been specially built just to suit him. To save time, he asked the bartender, Ed Depryl, to both help him out of his rain gear in addition to helping him strap his seatbelt on his bar stool. Ed called out to Chris "What'll it be?". "The usual" replied Chris in a monotone whisper and then added "Go heavy on the 25/100".

Ed replied "One Sinemet-Sling coming up!" as he tipped the prescription bottle and watched as the yellow tablets fell into the blender. He added a shot of prune-juice, a shot of Tabasco and a healthy shot of seltzer into the mix.

As the blender whirred, Chris stared blankly at Ed and said "I think my neurologist is seeing someone else". Ed by now was used to Chris' convoluted logic and played along: "Have you seen other patient-files in his in-basket?......Is the excitement in his voice gone as he asks you to walk heel-to-toe down the hallway of his office?.....Do you see the faint indentations of other patient's names on his prescription pad?".

Chris said nothing but reached out and accepted the drink Ed handed him in the spill-proof plastic mug with his name on it. Ed pulled a pair of handcuffs from under the bar and gently fastened one side to Chris' trembling right hand and the other end to the mug-handle (this was Ed's idea since the first time that Chris' wild jerks and bucking motions had covered the other customers in the bar with the contents of his special-order drink and sent the mug flying across the room where it embedded itself in a woman's cheese-fries). Chris drank eagerly. As he put the mug down, Ed noticed that Chris had a Sinemet-moustache of yellow pieces of medicine on his upper lip but chose not to call attention to it and went down the bar to attend to other customers.

Chris sat waiting for the drink to take hold and thought of how his life had slowed down and changed in content these last few years. His "dust bunny" collection was unrivaled in his neighborhood, his growing mountain of unopened and/or undiscovered mail lay in piles along the surface of every object within the vicinity of the his front door. Books he no longer opened filled the shelves around him and his piano sat with a fine layer of dust blanketing it..now an elusive companion in his life. He was brought back to the present by the sound of a chipper voice, a friend from the old neighborhood.

"Chris, what've you been up to old man? We hardly see you here anymore!". The drink still hadn't taken effect so Chris mumbled to his old acquaintance "Same old stuff....you see my PD has gotten..." but was cut off by his friend who pumped his manacled hand fervently and said "Look, don't be a stranger!" as he ambled off to the other side of the room. Tears formed in Chris' eyes as he realized that few people knew what to say anymore. It wasn't his fault that his physical condition had deteriorated to this point, he was an innocent pawn in...........

The wave ran through his body as the drink took hold. He glanced in the mirror behind the bar at the new Chris who had "just arrived". "Ed" Chris hollered across the bar with enthusiasm and mischief as he unbuckled himself "why didn't you say I had a Sinemet-moustache going on, you scoundrel, you! Let's get some music on the old jukebox...Bonnie, let's dance!". No one could match his enthusiasm once the drink had taken over as Chris told stories, drank beers and literally bounced off the walls all the time unaware of the spectacle of the mug handcuffed to his right hand as it hit patrons and furniture alike during his wild gyrations. He seemed to forget why he had been so unhappy with life as the medicine worked its magic inside him. A glance at his watch reminded him that this evening must end soon if he was to make it home safely. His friends had other plans and talked him into staying for one more round.

Not wanting to display his trouble getting into his raincoat, he slung it over his shoulder and simulated a Gene Kelley-type dance move as he stepped out into the pouring rain. Unaware that the mug dangled from his wrist, he made his way slowly back the one and a half blocks to his apartment. There were few lights on and the world slept as he shuffled up the stairs to his door.

He realized that he had put his keys in his right front pocket and trying not to think of the warm apartment and familiar bathroom on the other side of the door, he managed to make his left-hand grab the keys. Chris tried in vain to hold the house-keys in either hand as his wet clothes and sound of heavy rainfall outside reminded him of the many drinks he'd had and his present priorities. But gravity and nature prevailed as Chris lost control and he slumped to the floor crying softly for the changes occurring in his life. As the tears subsided, Chris got up and struggled with the keys again as he turned to the reader and said:

"PD isn't pretty. Sometimes it can be funny and other times sad. There are hopes and fears as well as joy and tears. It's what you make out of each day that colors the picture that is your life".

And with that parting statement, he unlocked his door and shuffled inside.



		11/17/96 Chris Kinesia: Suburban Cowboy The man sat in the glow of the fireplace staring out the window into the dark. He had been like this for the past hour and thought to himself how he would continue sitting until the constant patter of raindrops on the window reminded him of the "basics of life" and he struggled to get up and see to this pressing need. As he shuffled past the tall mirror, he reflected that the person in the mirror was beginning to achieve posture much like the shape of a question mark. "Poor fool" he mumbled as he reached his destination just in time. On his way back to the chair, again he looked on with disgust at the man in the mirror who unlike himself, had let his body go. He said to no one in particular "I need a drink!" and got up to get his raincoat and leave. Forty-five minutes later, he managed to don his raincoat and left his house, speaking to no one along the way. The man's name was Chris Kinesia but the Hispanic children who lived in his community called him "El Dopa". Chris didn't speak Spanish but was pretty sure that this name was one of respect. It was a fact that the patrons of the neighborhood bar respected him for one of the bar stools had been specially built just to suit him. To save time, he asked the bartender, Ed Depryl, to both help him out of his rain gear in addition to helping him strap his seatbelt on his bar stool. Ed called out to Chris "What'll it be?". "The usual" replied Chris in a monotone whisper and then added "Go heavy on the 25/100". Ed replied "One Sinemet-Sling coming up!" as he tipped the prescription bottle and watched as the yellow tablets fell into the blender. He added a shot of prune-juice, a shot of Tabasco and a healthy shot of seltzer into the mix. As the blender whirred, Chris stared blankly at Ed and said "I think my neurologist is seeing someone else". Ed by now was used to Chris' convoluted logic and played along: "Have you seen other patient-files in his in-basket?......Is the excitement in his voice gone as he asks you to walk heel-to-toe down the hallway of his office?.....Do you see the faint indentations of other patient's names on his prescription pad?". Chris said nothing but reached out and accepted the drink Ed handed him in the spill-proof plastic mug with his name on it. Ed pulled a pair of handcuffs from under the bar and gently fastened one side to Chris' trembling right hand and the other end to the mug-handle (this was Ed's idea since the first time that Chris' wild jerks and bucking motions had covered the other customers in the bar with the contents of his special-order drink and sent the mug flying across the room where it embedded itself in a woman's cheese-fries). Chris drank eagerly. As he put the mug down, Ed noticed that Chris had a Sinemet-moustache of yellow pieces of medicine on his upper lip but chose not to call attention to it and went down the bar to attend to other customers. Chris sat waiting for the drink to take hold and thought of how his life had slowed down and changed in content these last few years. His "dust bunny" collection was unrivaled in his neighborhood, his growing mountain of unopened and/or undiscovered mail lay in piles along the surface of every object within the vicinity of the his front door. Books he no longer opened filled the shelves around him and his piano sat with a fine layer of dust blanketing it..now an elusive companion in his life. He was brought back to the present by the sound of a chipper voice, a friend from the old neighborhood. "Chris, what've you been up to old man? We hardly see you here anymore!". The drink still hadn't taken effect so Chris mumbled to his old acquaintance "Same old stuff....you see my PD has gotten..." but was cut off by his friend who pumped his manacled hand fervently and said "Look, don't be a stranger!" as he ambled off to the other side of the room. Tears formed in Chris' eyes as he realized that few people knew what to say anymore. It wasn't his fault that his physical condition had deteriorated to this point, he was an innocent pawn in........... The wave ran through his body as the drink took hold. He glanced in the mirror behind the bar at the new Chris who had "just arrived". "Ed" Chris hollered across the bar with enthusiasm and mischief as he unbuckled himself "why didn't you say I had a Sinemet-moustache going on, you scoundrel, you! Let's get some music on the old jukebox...Bonnie, let's dance!". No one could match his enthusiasm once the drink had taken over as Chris told stories, drank beers and literally bounced off the walls all the time unaware of the spectacle of the mug handcuffed to his right hand as it hit patrons and furniture alike during his wild gyrations. He seemed to forget why he had been so unhappy with life as the medicine worked its magic inside him. A glance at his watch reminded him that this evening must end soon if he was to make it home safely. His friends had other plans and talked him into staying for one more round. Not wanting to display his trouble getting into his raincoat, he slung it over his shoulder and simulated a Gene Kelley-type dance move as he stepped out into the pouring rain. Unaware that the mug dangled from his wrist, he made his way slowly back the one and a half blocks to his apartment. There were few lights on and the world slept as he shuffled up the stairs to his door. He realized that he had put his keys in his right front pocket and trying not to think of the warm apartment and familiar bathroom on the other side of the door, he managed to make his left-hand grab the keys. Chris tried in vain to hold the house-keys in either hand as his wet clothes and sound of heavy rainfall outside reminded him of the many drinks he'd had and his present priorities. But gravity and nature prevailed as Chris lost control and he slumped to the floor crying softly for the changes occurring in his life. As the tears subsided, Chris got up and struggled with the keys again as he turned to the reader and said: "PD isn't pretty. Sometimes it can be funny and other times sad. There are hopes and fears as well as joy and tears. It's what you make out of each day that colors the picture that is your life". And with that parting statement, he unlocked his door and shuffled inside.