Faggel, A bonified Faggel.

It safe to say that life is half chance and half destiny. It's pretty hard to tell right away whether dropping your phone in the toilet is fate or shitty luck (pun intended). But there are other times when you recognize right away that destiny is at work, yep life is half chance and half destiny. That being said, in terms of people, there are chance encounters and there are interactions that have been pre-decided by God or Satan or Buddha or Sponge Bob or whatever ridicules deity you believe in. People the universe has deliberately put in your life. They can be lovers, friends, enemies or even strangers with great advice you meet on trains or buses. You may not realize it at first but with time, and the right light its easy to tell.
That brings me to a young man named Jordan Richardson. When I met Jordan he was outside of his room spraying febreze, trying to mask the smell of pot. I laughed and told him it reeked, we exchanged names and slapped hands, he invited me in to smoke. Now two weeks prior to meeting Jordan I had been arrested in the same building for having weed on me, so walking into that room wasn’t the smartest idea. But I'm from the south side of Chicago and we don’t turn down free stuff, and I saw smoking in the building as a way to stand by my beliefs, if I stop smoking “they” win, and “they” can suck a fat one. One of first observation was how similar Jordan's room was to my old one. There was a variety of faces of all races and creeds, eyes chinky and red. The smoke rose and the coughs echoed, “Back Home” I thought as Jordan broke rotation so I could get a hit.
It didn’t take me long to realize Jordan was a lunatic. Now, I'm no stranger to lunacy myself, but Jordan brought crazy to an almost uncomfortable level. He told stories of being stranded in Honduras and how he made 5000 dollars in 3 months stealing Ipods and Mac Books. More odd than his stories were his quirks and ticks. He often blurts out words or high pitched squeals and he is known to get on the floor and roll around. He prides himself in being able to shit in front of anyone. He gets monthly Brazilian waxes. He eats chicken nuggets with everything. He has business cards but no job. Native Americans believed that each soul had a spirit animal, a beast that best fit your unique skill set and character traits. Jordan is probably an eagle, revered and recognized by all. A truly unique sight that captures the attention of everybody. I, on the other hand, am probably a pig. Content with sloshing around in my on poop. Marinating in myself. Some people think I'm cute, but most people just think I'm gross.
Jordan is a sexual deviant. Not just kinky. Not just freaky, but deviant. Jordan lost his virginity in 8th grade. He also started peeing in girls mouths in 8th grade. He claims he thought the practice of urinating in girl's mouths was normal but I’m pretty sure that shit is illegal in most states. When he was In high school he hooked up with a 300 pound white woman he met on blackplanet.com. Not to mention earlier this year he got dome from what we speculate my have been a transgender. Jordan has also pulled some pretty gorgeous girls in addition to monsters. Recently we were in not so subtle competition for the affection of a lady. I had a short lived fling with her and he had a crush as well. I recently discovered that she made out with him during the before mentioned affair. If it was anyone else, I would have killed the bastard. Poisoned his drink or let carbon dioxide seep from the oven or something. But we weren’t exclusive and Jordan is a pretty skilled ladies man (And the girl is a whore.)( j/k. Not really.) (But seriously big whore)
He is an only child as am I so we automatically related in the way that only children who spent most of their time alone could, for instance we both admitted to talking out loud to ourselves at least 40 minutes a day. Before meeting Jordan my motto was “Always do what makes the best story.” after seeing Jordan's antics I felt it suited him better so I adopted a new one; “Drink for free and try to stay out of jail.”
I admire Jordan the most for how he interacts with people. In the south loop people run in tight circles. Sure, people are nice to each other and you may even get invited to parties with different cliques, but 5 times out of ten the inviter knows you wont come, and 4 times out of ten they don’t even want you to. Jordan flawlessly glides in and out of circles, he is truly accepted everywhere. He knows everyone, and everyone loves him. He has assembled his own circle of randoms that I am semi-proud to be a part of. I've been friends with just about everyone, nerds to jocks and everything in between. But I've never felt like I belong somewhere, even now. But I think dealing with Jordan has thought me that maybe we don’t need to “belong” any where. That maybe saying you belong someplace limits you. Maybe I should belong to myself, my own ideas, my own values.
Well, It's 3 a.m and I've successfully managed to break my writers block. (Hooray for me) I hope this passage doesn’t make me seem to gay for Jordan although I do love the kid as much as a guy could without sleeping with him. I like to incorporate lessons with my writings, something you can take with you long after you finish half reading my work. I'm sleep deprived and scrambling desperately to find a moral to this convoluted essay. I guess....idk. Be yourself? Fuck, wear socks with shoes or you'll get athletes foot?
Shit.
Fuck.
Fuck.
God Damn.
Fuck.