L'esprit de l'escalier

It's all about the timing.

Location: Memphis, Tennessee, United States

I'd rather be somewhere else most of the time and I'm a huge practitioner of staircase wit.



I know why I was talking about what I was talking about last night. I found out an acquaintance by association killed himself recently. He shot himself in the bathroom of some late-night blues club on Beale Street. My husband dated a girl before me who was sort of a drama queen. She was tragic, she had a tragic life and apparently, has designed it that way. She married this guy who was addicted to heroin. That was the rumor, anyway, but I believe it was true. They were very dark together, but no one ever thought they weren't happily suited for each others problems. They got married in a club downtown on Halloween. It was a big party.

Then, a couple months ago we heard they were getting a divorce. A friend saw her on the street and she said, "Thank god". Which we thought was weird and more than a little cold, but we didn't know what was going on in their relationship, so whatever. And then last night we found out her husband shot himself in the bathroom at the Black Diamond in Memphis, shortly after they seperated. Shortly after she said "thank god". We don't know if he was drunk or high or both but probably. He also owned many guns.

What an awful story.

My ex-husband is in prison right now for robbing banks. A friend of mine was in love with an alcoholic who hanged himself in jail. He was in jail for breaking into a local bar to steal beer. He knew the owner and he'd done it before. In fact, I think he worked at that bar for a time. They got tired of him stealing from them because they were friends. My husband's uncle hanged himself in his basement and one of his children found him. This happened right after David and I met. I wasn't as supportive as I wish I would've been. My sister's first husband shot himself in his car outside our house while we were all inside eating homemade spaghetti and meatballs.

This is the tragedy that keeps me from laughing as much as I used to. How do you seperate other people's realities from your own? They eventually become blurred and you can't remember if it happened to you or someone you know. It doesn't matter, either. It really doesn't matter, because it happened at all.


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