"Are you trying to be funny leaving your name badge blank? Or is that some sort of statement that you are trying to make with people not needing to ask for our names but just knowing it when they see a badge without having to get to know the person? That must be it. That is such a bold act and statement. So brave."
The girl pads away from me believing that she has found some deep meaning to my actions, as if the secrets of my psyche has been unlocked and the doors flung asunder to her inquisition. Bollocks. Truth is, that the reason that my name was not written on the empty white space of the cheaply made "My Name Is ___" name sticker, is that I don't know it. I do not exist in the sense of having any issued identification to look at as to be able to look at and go, "AHA! THAT IS MY NAME! JEBEDIAH!" My memory is a blank when it comes to who I am, no history from my past, nothing that would jog to who I am or was.
I wander aimlessly through life with no need of direction. No bills, no obligations, just living however I see fit at that particular moment that strikes my fancy. This moment I am attending a meet and greet for some company in the area, filled with numerous men and women wearing nice designer clothes, eating appetizers on fancy little picks, cheeses made from animals that don't go 'moo', whilst washing it down with 3 dollar a bottle wine that smells like it was batched in a bathtub with rose petals and lavender just hours earlier. They eat the shit down not knowing that if they were to have the authentic McCoy they would be locked in their bathrooms waiting for the sweet relief of death to release them from the grip of the brown fire hose that would be spewing from both ends of their bodies because their pasty livers would not be able to handle the richness. Yet here I am wearing some jeans and a shirt I scavenged from a local thrift store, looking like some new age hobo but with no name on my name tag, it just sets it all off.
Now don't think that I am totally helpless, I know things and how to do things; I just don't know my name or personal history. Also, I am not like some Jason Bourne secret agent with amnesia but with the innate ability to call upon the super secret training to kick some ass when need be. The only ability I can call upon with impunity is that of biting sarcasm and the ability to wash the fuck out of some dishes.
I have been wandering about the party for around an hour or so when I ran into Steve. Not physically ran into him but through some casting of the die by the fates to catch his eye for him to call me over to his little circle for whatever reason but most likely to gloat over some grand scheme he pulled off recently. Steve was a weasel looking man of about five foot something that talked fast and always expected a quick nod of the head as a verbal agreement was not possible seeing as he was almost always talking. Not once while I stood there laughing at his bad jokes, agreeing to his stupid assumptions and listening to his wild claims of making a killing in the stock market; did he not once ask of my name. Not that I wished to go into that little story of mine but goes to show what kind of person he was. He only was only looking for an extra ear for his dubious claims.
I left after a few hours bored with the whole thing. Tired of listening to unimportant people trying to position themselves around each other trying to out pose the other in the their false world that only matters to those in attendance. I decided to just go to my cheap hotel room that a paid with from a winning scratch off ticket I purchased just earlier that day.
