This is Cameron Leahy Free consultations // The Downtown Fiction

I think it’s interesting how Americans love to embrace the anti-hero, the loser, the downtrodden. Kind of defines who we are as a people—descendants of the god-fearing Jamestown settlers who abandoned England for some strange new land where most would initially die, few would survive, and many would eventually flourish. Nothing swells our hearts like the diseased, the poor and the persecuted. Those are the individuals we admire—the ones who face adversity, the ones who overcome incredible odds, the ones who stand up for those who cannot be heard.

But then, as swiftly as we have lifted them up, we unceremoniously cast them into the flames. For as soon as that monumental shift occurs, when the underdog becomes the champion, that is when we no longer root for them. Our loyalty is limited. They begin to symbolize what they once had stood to oppose. The critics no longer outweigh the devotees, and for this they become corporate, they become mainstream, they’re Ronald McDonald, they’re Pizza Hut, they’re MTV. And we hate them.

Tom Petty once said, “Even the losers get lucky sometimes.” Great lyricists always have a way of saying so much with so little. What I love about well-written lyrics is their ability to leave the meaning open to interpretation. You’re forced to fill in the blanks, to make it apply to your own experiences.

Side note: When someone tells you that “Song X” by “Band Y” is the greatest song ever, don’t scoff at them, because “Song X” IS the greatest song ever… to them. You probably just dislike it because your ex-bestfriend suggested the band to you a few years back and now anytime you listen to “Song X” all you think about is how much you fucking hate your ex-bestfriend. All the while this other person probably heard it right after receiving negative test results for some terminal disease they thought they had, but didn’t, and now “Song X” becomes the soundtrack to their second chance at life.

Perception is as varying as a snowflake or a fingerprint.

The point is, what Petty states so eloquently is that no matter how often life shits on you, one of these days you might just get yours. And isn’t that what we all would like to believe? We associate ourselves with the loser. We are all losers who want to be winners. And despite our desire to be one of them, we despise all of them. Maybe less time and effort should be put into tearing down these individuals who we’ve helped build up, and more time doing something for ourselves. Maybe if we channeled those energies into something positive, we’d all “get lucky sometimes.”

Or maybe (and more likely), we need the winners, because in many ways they are vital to our very existence. They are the scapegoat on whom we rest all of the blame for our bad fortune and lack of recognition. And they are the backdrop against which we define our own sense of individualism. We are the suffering artists and they are the over-paid phonies. We are the Truth-Tellers and they are the Bullshitters. It is a twisted, symbiotic relationship that we share as a people.

-CL

The city is submerged in snow. More similar now to a post-apocalyptic tundra or frozen Atlantis. Thin pathways are cleared to navigate the streets, where only a glimmer of the black gravel shows through a sheath of ice. Walls of snow line these narrow trails. The many layers within them indicate time past, like the rings of a fallen redwood. It reminds us that at one point in time, snow fell, and no one cleared it away. That not too long ago, we weren’t here. An indication that our presence is unnecessary. We are visitors. And we are owed nothing.

-CL

Conversation between wealthy businessman and homeless drunk lying in the gutter…

Businessman: Pardon me, but you seem to be grabbing at my trousers.

Drunk: Yes, I’m — I’m trying to climb up your leg.

Businessman: Why, may I ask?

Drunk: You may! You see the — the outline of your wallet is showing through the front of your pants, but I can’t seem to reach it. You’re so high up! (Falls)

Businessman: I’d much appreciate you not robbing me. In addition, I ask that you refrain from grabbing at my trousers, you’re going to get them dirty.

Drunk: If I can just… prop myself up. Boy, your legs are like redwoods!

Businessman: Sir, you smell of cat litter and orange juice. If I give you a dollar will you leave me alone?

Drunk: I’ll give you a dollar to give me two dollars!

Businessman: Ingenious. How you ever managed to find yourself in such squalor boggles the mind.

Drunk: Yeah, well what have you done lately? You work day in and day out. And for what? More money? Money. Hah! When was the last time you vomited in public? Or kissed a beautiful woman? Hopefully not in that order. But when was the last time you saw the sun rise over a hot dumpster? Or found a perfectly good sandwich on the street? I bet you’ve never even taken the bus! Or urinated in one!

Businessman: I have a perfectly comfortable life.

Drunk: Perfectly comfortable! Hah! Perfectly comfortable is nothing but a polite word for boring! I’m poor and drunk and I hate myself. But at least I don’t…

Businessman: Don’t what?

Drunk: At least I… I… God, I really thought I had a good point there.

Businessman: Yes, I really felt like you were on to something.

Drunk: You know this — this always happens. I have a great point and then I… I lose my… my… the thing that operates on tracks that’s a metaphor for brain function…

Businessman: Train of thought?

Drunk: We have a winner! It must be from all the…the…

Businessman: Drinking?

Drunk: You sir, are a regular Nostradamus!

Businessman: And you are a pathetic excuse for a man.

Drunk: I really am! (Laughs) Is being rich wonderful?

Businessman: (Hands him a wad of money) Yes.

Drunk: I thought so.

-CL

Ever since Jocelyn’s golden crown could challenge the bedroom doorknob, she wished to one day visit France, meet a French man, and fall deeply in love resulting in many babies. She watched French films, read every book about the country and its culture, ate brie and chocolate croissants and taught herself the French language with an instructive cassette tape on popular French phrases.

Seemingly overnight - the way life tends to happen - the distance from Jocelyn’s feet to forehead ballooned dramatically, and suddenly she was a woman. This prompted her to pack her suitcase in a fit of ecstasy and hail the first yellowcab to the nearest airport.

She made a mad dash for the ticket counter and reserved one ticket for Paris to depart that very hour. What she failed to notice in her tizzy of childhood-fantasy-coming-to-fruition, was that in fact she had booked a flight for the city of Paris, Texas… as opposed to the popular French metropolis by the same name.

Jocelyn never realized this critical error, even after boarding the Lonestar-bound aircraft, due to the fact that her instructive cassette tape on popular French phrases drowned out the voice of the flight attendant who announced the final destination prior to take off.

The plane crashed not but thirty minutes into the flight when a bird flew into the left engine causing complete power failure, sealing the fate of all 142 people aboard.

-CL

Don’t fuck with my heart, baby, cuz it’s so precious and paper thin/Don’t fuck with my heart, darling, cuz I’m a delicate gentleman/Don’t fuck with my heart, honey, cuz if you do I might cave right in/Don’t fuck with my heart, lady, cuz I’m a delicate gentleman

-CL

The music you listen to growing up will always be the most enduring because those songs carry with them precious memories. The records that I listened to, mostly due to my parents playing them on cassettes (those existed once) are so powerful that when I hear them, I am transported back to those times. I can recall one day in particular, driving down some freeway in southern California, right around dusk, and Joni Mitchell “Peoples’ Parties” was playing on our tape deck. Whenever I listen to that record, Court and Spark, I feel like I’m there again, four years old in the backseat.

This short list of songs has had an enormous impact on who I’ve become, and I realize that the people who wrote them would probably have trouble fully understanding just how important they are to me. Look them up on Youtube or something if you get a chance.

1. The Rolling Stones - Ruby Tuesday

2. Joni Mitchell - Peoples’ Parties

3. The B-52’s - Private Idaho

4. Patsy Cline - Crazy

6. Mary Wells - The One Who Really Loves You

7. The Rolling Stones - Let’s Spend the Night Together

8. Sheryl Crow - All I Wanna Do

9. Bobby Gentry - Ode to Billy Joe

10. The Rolling Stones - Wild Horses

-CL

Human interaction is so fascinating. It’s strange how you can meet Person A and immediately feel comfortable, but one minute with Person B and you’re already pitted against each other like fighting dogs. Some might attribute this phenomenon to good/bad first impressions, but I’m not convinced that’s the only variable. Maybe there’s something built-in to all of us, like a subconscious mechanism that measures the compatibility of a person based on your own personality. Not everybody gets along, that’s a given. My question is, what makes anyone get along in the first place?

Conversation with the text-information service, KBG (aka 542-542).

Me: Is Santa Claus real?

KGB: Santa Claus is real if you believe in him! Many children do! He lives in the North Pole!

Me: Wait, so you’re saying if I believe in Santa, then he exists? Does this theory hold true for everything? Like, if I believe I can fly, does that mean I can jump off my roof?

KGB: No, you shouldn’t jump off your roof. Gravity is also real like Santa, yet we cannot see or touch it!

Touché, KGB, touché.

-CL