The Irony of Fate
A true love story from a long time ago
Recently, I promised to share some of my old writings. I am still sifting through some of them but here is a plot.
More than ten years ago, I was tremendously in love with a beautiful Armenian guy out in California. He ran his dad’s jewelry business, liked philosophy, and we got along really swell.
It didn’t work out. I thought he broke up with me, he thought …. well, I don’t really know what he thought but it didn’t work out.
I was very, very heartbroken. I wrote multiple tortured, strong language essays (here and here), a poem, and a song.
Some years passed, he had regrets. We talked on the phone every now and then, his regrets were seemingly strong—but nothing happened.
More time passed, and at one point, a couple of years before COVID, he finally made it to New York to see me.
When I saw him at the door, he looked so different from his former self that I was taken aback. But there he was, a shadow of the man I had remembered, at my door with a suitcase.
It was New Year’s Eve, of course, much like in the Soviet classic, “The Irony of Fate.”
We talked, and at one point he confessed to me that he had developed a habit of using meth.
It explained the change but…. my God!!
I became very upset because he was a smart guy and a great jeweler, and he used to be so good-looking, and …. he didn’t like me being upset, he got angry and stormed out of my place into the eternity.
I cried and I wrote this song. I wrote it, recorded it as it was coming out, and never performed it, it was a cry into the skies about a soul opportunity lost.
And I let go, forever.
And then maybe a year and a half ago, I looked him up, with a light heart, hoping that maybe he was improving in some way.
And when I did, I learned that he had been charged with attempted murder for shooting at his mom inside her house in CA.
I very much doubt that he was actually attempting to kill his mom but none the less, he did shoot his gun at her. At the police, too. It was all over the local news, and that was the guy about whom I wrote a few sad essays, one tragic poem, and two very sad songs.
The irony of fate!
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You just never know how things will turn out but being brave enough to try is enough for me. Someday I might write a story about the most expensive non date in my life when I moved heaven and earth to be close to an astounding woman upon her invitation. Oh well.
Some decades ago, my younger brother moved more or less midway up the cocaine distribution system in a mid-sized city. He got waaay past slender. One day some people heard that he was expecting a substantial delivery on a Tuesday, which was Mothers Day...problem was that he wasn't getting the delivery until Wednesday...so when the thieves showed up on Tuesday, they were verrry disappointed, ransacked his place and were in the process of leaving with his 9mm pistol, when my brother walked in (he had forgotten to take the Mothers Day card with him when he had left his place earlier that day...he was just stopping in to grab the card and take it over to my parents' house nearby), and when he confronted the thieves-who-were-now-robbers, one of them shot him point-blank in the chest with his own gun. Long story, but he survived, barely, got his life back together and lived a good life until 8 years ago when he developed an inoperable cancer (no vaccine involvement) and died peacefully and at peace, at home, with relatively little pain.
There's a really terrible movie called Chained Heat 2 that has a few good lines in it, one of which is: Junkies are always trouble...even the good ones. (It might have been 'Junkies always create problems, especially the good ones.' It's been a while since I saw the movie.)