There's always Ketchup.‏

I sit here wondering why I’ve had so many ups and downs. I feel sorry for myself or unhappy way too much. I hate being weak minded. I’ve had friends kill themselves and watched others killed. I’ve many times hoped to never wake up again. And often times long for the never ending sleep. Bottom line I get depressed.

I understand that fucking thing that makes people hate making it through another day and convinces some to just give up. I feel uneasy and claustrophobic at times, and get myself into believing that a drastic change is needed or neccesary in my life. I believe we all get that way at times. None of us are ever happy with what we have in our grasp. We’re always yearning for what’s just outside our reach. Reading about DJ Am yesterday had me thinking today,”Why?” What’s the point of surviving death once just to take your life again later?

I hurt. I feel pain all the damn time. Every time I take a step, my feet ache. My fingers hurt when someone shakes my hands too hard. I’m so dissapointed time and time again. But why take your life? It’s pointless. Especially when you have so much going for you. In the land of the starving, God gives nuts to those without teeth. That’s what a good friend (Ali, one of the Pan-Am high-jackers of 1986) of mine back in Pakistan told me once. He hit that nail on the head.

DJ Am had fame, money, could do whatever, go where ever, do whom ever, yet still, he was so miserable he took his own life. I feel like doing that every fucking day. But that’s the selfish way out. The easy way. The cowardly way. No matter how bad it gets, it could always be worse.

The food in Pakistan was horrible. It was Dal. Sort of a lentil soup with pieces of potato and sometimes chicken. Spicy as hell, and we’d have to share it with cats. The food made me sick. Literally. That stuff would have me shitting sideways. I’d have to turn my body 90 degrees just to keep from painting the walls in my little squat toilet. I was always sick in Jail. Bad water. Bad soup. Horrible environments. God hates Pakistan. That country is not favored by any means.

During the summer it would get to over 130 degrees, the winter, you’d be freezing your nuts off. Never normal or pleasant weather. Bad food, crappy weather, sand storms, scorpions, mosquito’s, bee’s, rats, cockroaches, spiders, snakes, frogs, millions and millions of flies and dirty ass loud cats. I hated those cats. Always fighting each other at night. Stealing your food when you slept. It took me a long time to get used to things. I had to eat their food the first part of my stay, but eventually i was able to start purchasing food by having the guards bring it in for me. Give those corrupt bastards a few bucks, and they’d lick your toes if that was your thing. I remember my first bottle of ketchup. The dal, and rice, and burnt roti’s were so bad, that you just didn’t want to eat. But starving wasn’t fun. And I had to keep my strength. I needed to eat. So ketchup would fix everything. No matter how bad it got, there was always ketchup. Eggs undercooked. Ketchup. Rice too cold, ketchup. Out of toothpaste, ketchup. I would put that on everything the paki’s made for me. Ketchup is like ducktape. Very useful.

When the crazy German Ziggy (this guy was a motherfucker) was having his room searched, and the guards were confiscating all his cooking tools, radios, dirty magazines, and illegal contraband and what not, he yelled over to me, ” Erik! They’re taking my things!” Like i was gonna do something to help him, and I just casually hollered back, “Hey, there’s always Ketchup.” That was my way of letting him know, it could always be worse.

There were many times back then, and still today, that I thought about taking my own life. These thoughts suck. But I can’t ever act on them. Life is tough as hell sometimes. And I’m sure tougher for most given their circumstances. But through every dark day there’s a bright shiney day after that. So no matter how hard it gets, stick your chest out, keep your head up, and handle it. And just put some ketchup on it. You’ll feel better.

No related posts.

Tags: Erik Aude, Erik Aude Blog, Erik Aude Poker, Erik Aude Poker Blog