Part One: Our sad young wasted lives -
Once upon a time, I had a friend as close as a brother, named Joseph. We were almost always together, through the good and the bad. As wayward and amoral teen boys growing up in Buffalo, NY, we were never that common among our peers. Mischievous, irreverent, and uncaring about rules and conformity, we were on the devilish side of life.
Chaos ran in our veins. Causing and witnessing it, we enjoyed the crazy shows that unfolded just for us. Something indefinable set us apart, and it wasn't just our borderline criminal behavior. We scoffed at the rules and laws of society; boundaries were for lesser souls, not our kind. To be completely honest, we never gave a crap. Both of us were contemptuous by nature. We believed in screwing society, its rules, laws, and especially its moral limits.
As mischievous youths, we prided ourselves on being utter chameleons to accomplish our chaotic deeds. Brothers of a kind, ideally molded for our chosen purposes. With the perfect demeanor and wardrobe beyond repute for the time, we blended in anywhere downtown where we shouldn't have or would ever be allowed to. Our combined devious intelligence was a whole other matter, exactly as intended.
We were equals, yet different in special ways that complemented each other. Very much alike in the little things: what made me laugh, made him laugh, and the things that upset him also upset me. We didn't share blood, but spirit. Kindred souls matched in the things that truly mattered — mischief and chaos.
As chaotic young men, neither of us conformed, nor obeyed. Everything that we were, did, and believed in was the very opposite of these society-based "normal" people. Any wild idea that blossomed into our crazy heads was something we'd often try together, regardless of the risk to life and limb; "Just Do It" became our motto, long before a certain sneaker company. That was who and what we were, young genius lunatics looking to stir up the pot of the world around us.
High school was not a thing either of us ever experienced. I never attended even the first year of high school due to years in a mental institute and then shuffled into the boy's home. Joseph ended up stuck in juvie hall, and jailed later on, so much that it took away all public school credit, so he never bothered trying to go back. No point to it by then. Both of us, being raised as we were, never once had we ever agreed to follow the "rules" of such a society that we were born into.
We were the epitome of rejects, misfits, or pariahs if you prefer. Although Joseph was slightly less of one than me.
We both did our own thing, independent of the social contracts of what is expected of all of us, being assumed members of said society.
My brother Joseph and I didn't believe in such things, nor did we really care. We only believed in doing our own thing, and screw "polite and proper" society.
These weren't even common considerations for us. We didn't even think about such things in our young lives. We were both outcasts, often due to our choices, and often from others' treatment of us as well, and I figured it would always be this way in my odd existence.
We did unscrupulous things daily, uncaring of how "right or wrong" they were considered. Like kicking the old milk machine not far from Joseph's house. Upon the right kick with the right force, it would spit out change from other customers (the ones who were naïve enough to actually pay), which we'd use to buy our milk, then kick it again to get the change back. It wasn't murder certainly, or robbing banks, but not exactly moral either. The poor blue milk machine retained a permanent dent in just the right spot where the foot would go, very convenient and easy I must say.
As the most mischievous and wayward lost boys wandering freely in the city of Buffalo, downtown was our perfect boy's playground. We were bold, obnoxious, forceful, fast, and devious as hell. If there was something we figured we could get away with, we certainly gave it our best. At a young age, I had a small studio right on the edge of downtown Buffalo, on the 15th floor of a business tower. This became not just our home, but our lair, and place of literal refuge.
During the days, we cruised downtown Buffalo like we owned the place, no location was off limits to us, unless we were physically ousted, or chased (which did happen from time to time, often with humorous results, keystone cops style chases ensuing).
The majestic edifice of City Hall became our main hangout spot, the bathrooms, the city hall cafeteria, and the politician's offices. It was an elegant old-school place to pass our wasted young lives. Strangely enough, The main place mall in downtown Buffalo, though it was mainly a dead mall, became our own small unusual playing field.
In the food court, we'd grab gigantic coffees in the morning and sit in the large vista-like windows there, seeing and watching all the bustling in our playground, sipping sweet caffeine, and dreaming of new chaotic deeds to do for the day.
Strangely, we used ties and dress shirts like a sort of psychic and aural armor. We had lots of business ties that we switched out, and we had the young professional look down completely. Being essentially dirt poor, we had to use our minds, guile, and boldness to complete our ultimate business look, to blend it, and do what we wanted in downtown Buffalo, whatever that might be.
Little mattered to us, besides our personal pleasures, having fun, and various random idiosyncrasies of the moment, nothing mattered in the real world certainly. The few things that did matter were our own likes, quirks, and satisfactions, and whatever free lunacy we could squeeze out of this sad world, sometimes alone, but mainly together. United in the cause of Chaos. Nothing else had a moment's consideration for us.