uniforms

took out my old uniform and the creases were still there. 

hadn't ironed them, or starched them, just took them right out of the closet to check for some old rank insignias.

and they were there.

the creases, not the chevrons.

so i folded them up and stacked them on my shelf, next to Joyce and Bukowski. 

then i started to write. 

began the regimen: 

blast the ipod; skim through unfinished work that looks conducive to the screenplay i'm working on, and smoke a padron.

but it wasn't happening. the words weren't coming and i wasn't writing.

went outside.

watering the tomatoes and such. - a new approach.

but i wandered back in, the sun beating down mercilously.

sought out the uniform.

as the orchestra was lightly tapping away, i came closer.  right up to the faded thread and gleaming buttons. 

yes, they had faded well. the greens now pastels and the browns and blacks very muted. 

aged.

several small tears from field operations - these were my greens, never seeing combat. 

Africa and Hawaii and Singapore, yes.

Iraq, no. never Iraq.

i put my uniform to my face.

inhale deep: crisp canvas and a hint of starch.

in the mirror i can see myself and something tells me to put them on. 

not a voice or command, just something. 

so i do.

they don't fit well. they hang on my gaunt body, two sizes too big.

as if a different man wore this uniform.

not me, chris.

and that's what's so funny.

because i find myself in the same situation as i did before.

a different man.

pre-enlistment civilian fuck.

devolved.

unemployed and broke.

ahh, with a fine accouterment: 50K in debt.

now this is what happens when you buy into the myth of college. get your degree, bust yer ass to graduate with honors, and guess what?

you get a nice piece of parchment to hang on your wall that says you have a bachelors degree. 

so what's next?

teach? 

finish up my masters?

finally to be greeted by the real world with 100,000 dollars worth of debt and usc 'connections?'

that's just not smart.

so i put the old uniform away, nice and neat and put on my new one.

my v-neck and sweats.

then i had a drink and deleted every single email from usc - suddenly the boot raised from my neck.

and now i'm writing.