It came at me quick
A quick wave of black steel
Millions of tiny bullets
United
Formed together like birds of flight
I was enamored
by gray clouds that followed tiny beads of speed and death
They made beautiful pictures in the sky
Etch-a-sketches of blue grey metal
Flying inches apart
It was beautiful
They all moved closer
They wanted to embrace me
I saw miles of road ahead of me
Not a soul to be seen in any direction
A beach to my right
Too cold to ever swim in
Waves coming from the ocean all toward me
Waves of gray blue water
Waves of gray blue specks
Waves of gray blue clouds
Wind pushing against my face
pulling my skin back far enough to tear
And here they came
Here they came
Here they came
Showering me head to toe
Never leaving any space untouched by the beauty
Never leaving an inch left out
Every pore
every pore on my face
Every space between atom
Filled
Plugging the holes of the unloved
Giving meaning
Giving touch
Giving caress
In that moment
In that solitary second
As the touch of cold steel and lead
Kiss the skin
Barely touching
Tickling
Kissing
Touching
They feel hot
They feel cold
They feel hot
They feel cold
Then
They tear
They pull
They pull so hard against the surface
It rips away and spills the precious fluid
I spill my loving embrace against every loving bullet
I wet the precious thing
I shower it with praise
The gift of liquid
Spread against its face
Its pointed end
Its forceful entry
Its regretful retreat
In and out of my body
So fleeting
So quick
Such a selfish lover
This black wave of Uzi bullets
I invite it into my home
My body
My pores
Caressed
Each one gifted by my blood
Tearing in a millionth of a second
My body
Becoming
A moving Black blur
gifted with red across its face
Like lipstick
On an aliens face
Encountering love
On a planet graced with suffering
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Escaping the Whirlwind (part 4) THE END
The two boys ran toward the door like pieces of paper on fire in the wind. They were snuffed out. Pulled by their jackets from behind. Billy, being a little more agile than Jerry, decided to fake compliance long enough for security to drop their guard and make a break for his truck. He was gunna have to leave Jerry behind but Jerry would understand. He would do the same. Afterall, everyone knew that there were no true friends amongst them. When it came down to it, it was every man for himself. They were social addicts, supporting each other's vices, weaknesses, downfalls.
Billy got the car started and threw the gear shift violently into reverse, slamming on the gas. After impacting security's golf cart that had blocked him in, he knew he was fucked.
"Get out of the car! NOW!"
Billy marched slowly but surprisingly out of handcuffs back toward the casino. Why had they trusted him enough to keep him out of cuffs? Maybe they had none. Maybe their budget didn't allow for it. Billy was calming down. Something had happened. There was a beginning, middle and an end. There had been a beautiful introduction into the casino, a terrifying internal conflict of anxiety at the bar, a brief resolution of Jerry finding him once again, an action sequence of trying to outrun the security officers, and finally the sad ending; getting caught. Billy still didn't know what they had done.
"Have a seat young man."
Billy was taken to a small security office hidden behind the bathrooms at the back of the casino. Jerry was already sitting down talking to a transvestite prostitute, apparently in more trouble than they were.
"We're prepared to let you guys go if you can find someone to pick you up. Despite the uh, little incident in the parking lot, we appreciate your patronage and hope you two can come back some time and maybe not drink so much eh?"
After calling Billy's roomate Allen and getting a long lecture on drinking, resposibility, and whatever else Allen thought might be appropriate, Billy was given a stern, "Fuck You!" Dylan was the next and last possibility. Dylan would be the only one awake and in good humor enough to laugh at the matter and still come to the rescue. After getting dropped off at his house, Billy felt tired, beaten, relieved, and alone. Some may have guessed he passed out on the floor, not able to make it to his bedroom, but Billy knew it was a conscious choice. The floor reflected the isolation he felt from the world, the regret he felt for his actions that evening, and fear of slipping into his bed, staring at the ceiling, so far away, with the wind howling outside, cold and mean, angry at Billy for having gotten away with it all once again. The world wanted him dead and he knew it. It was all after him and it was using boredom and hatred as its weapon. The floor was his white flag of surrender. Adriana, she just kept running. Running as fast as she could hoping that time and consequence would never be able to catch up with her. Dylan was a pacifist. He let the tanks of adulthood, responsibility, opportunity, obligation, social expectation, all those tanks just rolled right over him, squishing him into nothing leaving no headstone to ever suggest that he had been alive. Jerry was the joker. He laughed at death, at responsibility, at everything, and was a legend to a small group of people. Billy knew that when they were all older and Jerry would die of a heart attack at the age of 54, they would all attempt to find one another again, and pretend that it all mattered somehow by recalling moments of excitement and laughter. They would all get drunk together one more time and everyone at the party would trade stories of what they had been up to in the last 25 years, secretly competing for whose child was the most successful, whose job was the highest paying or most exciting. Who had been to Europe? Who was the worst off? Forgetting of coarse that the answer to that was Jerry, who was not able to attend.
Billy did eventually make it to his bed feeling safe and warm. He had a wife. He had a decent job. He could see the milestones in his head and those things made him feel safe. He had climbed up a mountain, ever looking down to see what demons had followed him up. He knew they were still some coming. Maybe the one's that got Jerry so unexpectedly. The top of the mountain was endless. All he saw was fog and snow caps. But he could run. He was in better shape. He felt stronger. He had no friends. They were old or dead and somewhere beneath him on the mountain asking for directions, shivering in the cold. "Everyman for himself." Billy said this aloud before continuing up the endless cliff huffing and puffing, carrying pictures of his wife and two daughters. As he ached along, waiting for something new to come his way, the only thing keeping him from getting shot in the back by figures in the shadows was a continuing sprint and jostle toward the unknown.
The End
Billy got the car started and threw the gear shift violently into reverse, slamming on the gas. After impacting security's golf cart that had blocked him in, he knew he was fucked.
"Get out of the car! NOW!"
Billy marched slowly but surprisingly out of handcuffs back toward the casino. Why had they trusted him enough to keep him out of cuffs? Maybe they had none. Maybe their budget didn't allow for it. Billy was calming down. Something had happened. There was a beginning, middle and an end. There had been a beautiful introduction into the casino, a terrifying internal conflict of anxiety at the bar, a brief resolution of Jerry finding him once again, an action sequence of trying to outrun the security officers, and finally the sad ending; getting caught. Billy still didn't know what they had done.
"Have a seat young man."
Billy was taken to a small security office hidden behind the bathrooms at the back of the casino. Jerry was already sitting down talking to a transvestite prostitute, apparently in more trouble than they were.
"We're prepared to let you guys go if you can find someone to pick you up. Despite the uh, little incident in the parking lot, we appreciate your patronage and hope you two can come back some time and maybe not drink so much eh?"
After calling Billy's roomate Allen and getting a long lecture on drinking, resposibility, and whatever else Allen thought might be appropriate, Billy was given a stern, "Fuck You!" Dylan was the next and last possibility. Dylan would be the only one awake and in good humor enough to laugh at the matter and still come to the rescue. After getting dropped off at his house, Billy felt tired, beaten, relieved, and alone. Some may have guessed he passed out on the floor, not able to make it to his bedroom, but Billy knew it was a conscious choice. The floor reflected the isolation he felt from the world, the regret he felt for his actions that evening, and fear of slipping into his bed, staring at the ceiling, so far away, with the wind howling outside, cold and mean, angry at Billy for having gotten away with it all once again. The world wanted him dead and he knew it. It was all after him and it was using boredom and hatred as its weapon. The floor was his white flag of surrender. Adriana, she just kept running. Running as fast as she could hoping that time and consequence would never be able to catch up with her. Dylan was a pacifist. He let the tanks of adulthood, responsibility, opportunity, obligation, social expectation, all those tanks just rolled right over him, squishing him into nothing leaving no headstone to ever suggest that he had been alive. Jerry was the joker. He laughed at death, at responsibility, at everything, and was a legend to a small group of people. Billy knew that when they were all older and Jerry would die of a heart attack at the age of 54, they would all attempt to find one another again, and pretend that it all mattered somehow by recalling moments of excitement and laughter. They would all get drunk together one more time and everyone at the party would trade stories of what they had been up to in the last 25 years, secretly competing for whose child was the most successful, whose job was the highest paying or most exciting. Who had been to Europe? Who was the worst off? Forgetting of coarse that the answer to that was Jerry, who was not able to attend.
Billy did eventually make it to his bed feeling safe and warm. He had a wife. He had a decent job. He could see the milestones in his head and those things made him feel safe. He had climbed up a mountain, ever looking down to see what demons had followed him up. He knew they were still some coming. Maybe the one's that got Jerry so unexpectedly. The top of the mountain was endless. All he saw was fog and snow caps. But he could run. He was in better shape. He felt stronger. He had no friends. They were old or dead and somewhere beneath him on the mountain asking for directions, shivering in the cold. "Everyman for himself." Billy said this aloud before continuing up the endless cliff huffing and puffing, carrying pictures of his wife and two daughters. As he ached along, waiting for something new to come his way, the only thing keeping him from getting shot in the back by figures in the shadows was a continuing sprint and jostle toward the unknown.
The End
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Escaping the Whirlwind (part 3)
Stunned by the flashing color and congratulatory sounds, Billy and Jerry walked slowly and with caution, eyes wide open like babies taking their first steps toward a dangerous but alluring world. They had left all their problems at the door. Jerry's parents divorce when he was eight years old, Billy's concerns for Adriana as well as his own lack of ambition and long term goals. All of their concerns vanished next to old ladies staring dead into the colored plastic boxes before them.
In trance and astonishment, Jerry and Billy were quickly separated and lost among isle after isle of slot machines, waiters, and security in unassuming uniform. Billy saw chaos in the sights and sounds once Jerry was no longer visible. The attraction was lost and now had seemed overwhelming and scary. There was an exit up ahead that led to a wide open space and a bar, away from the gambling, away from the action. While Billy spent his time at the bar feeding money to the bartender, desperately seeking refuge from the clamoring crowds within, praying Jerry would emerge from those doors looking for Billy, Jerry was inside happily bouncing in between isles of slot machines like a pin ball, lost but utterly content.
Too much time had passed and Billy was getting anxious, nervous, and terrified that the safety and welcoming hospitality of the casino was wearing out. He had spent too much time alone at the bar, guzzling shot after shot, not contributing any money to the slots, getting terribly hammered and looking around suspiciously for his friend that had been missing for a couple of hours. Jerry had also aroused suspicion in his wondering between row after row of patrons staring at the circus before him, also not contributing any money to their shiny golden boxes.
Some amount of time had passed in Billy's mind without a thought. He had managed to drink away any concerns he had of being watched or unwanted. He woke from this void his mind had been hiding in when Jerry had finally emerged from the sliding glass doors.
"Dude, we gotta go."
Billy tried looking at Jerry but his focus was wavering around and behind him.
"Why?"
"Security keeps following me around?"
"Why?"
Jerry grabbed Billy by the arm and whispered firmly into Billy's ear.
"I don't know but they keep talking to each other over their radios and following me wherever I go."
"Fuck that. We aren't going anywhere. We're paying customers. Here."
Billy passed Jerry one of his shots lined up and gestured to swig it strong and fast, sending a message of defiance. The boys drank up and tried to ignore the growing amount of red usher suits that had culminated around them.
"Shit. Maybe you're right. Let's go."
The tallest of the security guards moved in first.
"Excuse me gentlemen. I can't allow you to leave. You're gunna have to come with me."
In trance and astonishment, Jerry and Billy were quickly separated and lost among isle after isle of slot machines, waiters, and security in unassuming uniform. Billy saw chaos in the sights and sounds once Jerry was no longer visible. The attraction was lost and now had seemed overwhelming and scary. There was an exit up ahead that led to a wide open space and a bar, away from the gambling, away from the action. While Billy spent his time at the bar feeding money to the bartender, desperately seeking refuge from the clamoring crowds within, praying Jerry would emerge from those doors looking for Billy, Jerry was inside happily bouncing in between isles of slot machines like a pin ball, lost but utterly content.
Too much time had passed and Billy was getting anxious, nervous, and terrified that the safety and welcoming hospitality of the casino was wearing out. He had spent too much time alone at the bar, guzzling shot after shot, not contributing any money to the slots, getting terribly hammered and looking around suspiciously for his friend that had been missing for a couple of hours. Jerry had also aroused suspicion in his wondering between row after row of patrons staring at the circus before him, also not contributing any money to their shiny golden boxes.
Some amount of time had passed in Billy's mind without a thought. He had managed to drink away any concerns he had of being watched or unwanted. He woke from this void his mind had been hiding in when Jerry had finally emerged from the sliding glass doors.
"Dude, we gotta go."
Billy tried looking at Jerry but his focus was wavering around and behind him.
"Why?"
"Security keeps following me around?"
"Why?"
Jerry grabbed Billy by the arm and whispered firmly into Billy's ear.
"I don't know but they keep talking to each other over their radios and following me wherever I go."
"Fuck that. We aren't going anywhere. We're paying customers. Here."
Billy passed Jerry one of his shots lined up and gestured to swig it strong and fast, sending a message of defiance. The boys drank up and tried to ignore the growing amount of red usher suits that had culminated around them.
"Shit. Maybe you're right. Let's go."
The tallest of the security guards moved in first.
"Excuse me gentlemen. I can't allow you to leave. You're gunna have to come with me."
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Escaping the Whirlwind (part 2)
Billy sat behind the old, cracked wooden counter of his favorite bar, Pharroh's. Pharroh's was quiet, had the smell of an old man's smoking jacket. It reminded him of his grandfather. When Billy was little he would curl up next to his grandfather, passed out on the couch after a long boring movie, and sleep with his head against his chest under an old, knitted blanket. The blanket smelled like spilt beer and cigarette ash, just like his favorite bar. Just like his favorite grandfather.
He sat alone with his eyes on the counter, waiting for the glass to go empty. A reason to once again raise his head. A reason to make eye contact with the regulars. They hated eye contact. Especially coming from a young fella that shouldn't be there. Not at that time of day. Not on their time. Part of him felt very uncomfortable for this very reason. The rest of him relished in it for the very same reason. After some time had passed, Billy had run into a few acquaintances that otherwise would have been overlooked, say in a place like the supermarket, but he was lonely, he was bored, and he was scared. He was scared of what to do next. Time had grabbed him and thrown him in a basement, yelling at him, "You'll never see your mommy and daddy ever again."
Amongst his old high school associates, was a girl. A girl who did not appear to fit into the scene. She had stuck herself into reality's cook book, ruining the soup that was his favorite bar.
"Hey, Billy right?"
Billy was drunk. Very drunk at this point and in no mood for conversation.
"Hi. Yeah! What's up...you?"
Billy had no idea who the girl was, but he felt socially obligated to pretend he knew who she was, even if it meant eventual embarrassment, or sticking to the lie for years to come.
"You don't remember me do you?"
Billy looked at her with one eye closed in hopes that once the two images superimposed and became one, his memory would have a fighting chance.
"Nope. Can't sssay da I do."
She laughed and turned quickly to her friends whispering something in their ears. Billy became superstitious and assumed the worst about the secret meeting. 'They must be making fun of me. Fuck you all. So what if I'm drunk?' he thought to himself.
"SO!"
The small group of associates that had gathered all turned and quieted hoping to discover what had happened. Billy realized his conscience had gotten the best of him and decided he had put in enough time to satisfy that particular day. The awkward moment had guided him semi-sober back to his car and somewhat safely, all the way home.
Jerry was Billy's occasional friend. Jerry was not just an acquaintance. Jerry could be great fun. Jerry could be introspective. Jerry could be the hero. Jerry could buy all of your drinks for the evening, and possibly get you surrounded by beautiful women. Jerry could also get you into big trouble. Jerry could get too drunk and end up giving you enough nipple twisters to send you to the hospital inquiring about nipple specialists and plastic surgery. Jerry could be very annoying. Jerry could be too much, but Jerry was never too little and too little, was how Billy was feeling the next day.
Billy had spent a grueling eight hours pushing boxes at the hobby store he worked at and the evening called to him. The couch had served its purpose. After two and a half hours blindly staring at early evening game shows, repeats, and talk shows, Billy had done something exciting. He had called Jerry.
"Yo!" Jerry said with poise and emphasis.
"Jerr-RY! Hey dude. I'm bored. ARRRRrrrre you-thinkin-what-I'm-thinkin," Billy said with a musical slow-to-quick rhythm that was always a little different every time he called Jerry. Jerry was exciting, so Billy felt he owed it to Jerry. The entertainment. Everyone needed it desperately.
"NNnnuthin. Racetrack?"
"Racetrack."
So there it was. A Monday evening, 6:30pm. Two 24 year olds were headed to the local Indian casino and racetrack, to be greeted by old men, old women, and ATM machines, begging for fun, begging to be entertained, aching for escape, praying for trouble, something to happen, something big, something terrible possibly-maybe they would win big-maybe they would lose big, but either way, this is where they knew they could turn a mundane Monday into something spectacular.
He sat alone with his eyes on the counter, waiting for the glass to go empty. A reason to once again raise his head. A reason to make eye contact with the regulars. They hated eye contact. Especially coming from a young fella that shouldn't be there. Not at that time of day. Not on their time. Part of him felt very uncomfortable for this very reason. The rest of him relished in it for the very same reason. After some time had passed, Billy had run into a few acquaintances that otherwise would have been overlooked, say in a place like the supermarket, but he was lonely, he was bored, and he was scared. He was scared of what to do next. Time had grabbed him and thrown him in a basement, yelling at him, "You'll never see your mommy and daddy ever again."
Amongst his old high school associates, was a girl. A girl who did not appear to fit into the scene. She had stuck herself into reality's cook book, ruining the soup that was his favorite bar.
"Hey, Billy right?"
Billy was drunk. Very drunk at this point and in no mood for conversation.
"Hi. Yeah! What's up...you?"
Billy had no idea who the girl was, but he felt socially obligated to pretend he knew who she was, even if it meant eventual embarrassment, or sticking to the lie for years to come.
"You don't remember me do you?"
Billy looked at her with one eye closed in hopes that once the two images superimposed and became one, his memory would have a fighting chance.
"Nope. Can't sssay da I do."
She laughed and turned quickly to her friends whispering something in their ears. Billy became superstitious and assumed the worst about the secret meeting. 'They must be making fun of me. Fuck you all. So what if I'm drunk?' he thought to himself.
"SO!"
The small group of associates that had gathered all turned and quieted hoping to discover what had happened. Billy realized his conscience had gotten the best of him and decided he had put in enough time to satisfy that particular day. The awkward moment had guided him semi-sober back to his car and somewhat safely, all the way home.
Jerry was Billy's occasional friend. Jerry was not just an acquaintance. Jerry could be great fun. Jerry could be introspective. Jerry could be the hero. Jerry could buy all of your drinks for the evening, and possibly get you surrounded by beautiful women. Jerry could also get you into big trouble. Jerry could get too drunk and end up giving you enough nipple twisters to send you to the hospital inquiring about nipple specialists and plastic surgery. Jerry could be very annoying. Jerry could be too much, but Jerry was never too little and too little, was how Billy was feeling the next day.
Billy had spent a grueling eight hours pushing boxes at the hobby store he worked at and the evening called to him. The couch had served its purpose. After two and a half hours blindly staring at early evening game shows, repeats, and talk shows, Billy had done something exciting. He had called Jerry.
"Yo!" Jerry said with poise and emphasis.
"Jerr-RY! Hey dude. I'm bored. ARRRRrrrre you-thinkin-what-I'm-thinkin," Billy said with a musical slow-to-quick rhythm that was always a little different every time he called Jerry. Jerry was exciting, so Billy felt he owed it to Jerry. The entertainment. Everyone needed it desperately.
"NNnnuthin. Racetrack?"
"Racetrack."
So there it was. A Monday evening, 6:30pm. Two 24 year olds were headed to the local Indian casino and racetrack, to be greeted by old men, old women, and ATM machines, begging for fun, begging to be entertained, aching for escape, praying for trouble, something to happen, something big, something terrible possibly-maybe they would win big-maybe they would lose big, but either way, this is where they knew they could turn a mundane Monday into something spectacular.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Escaping the Whirlwind (part one)
Adriana slept and slept and slept. She had slept through an entire day of sun, into night, into the early light of a desperate and regretful dawn. She was feeling old. Correction; her conscience was feeling old. At heart, she was still sixteen. Her conscience however, had lived through countless retreats, defeats, and forgiveness that toppled that of God. When she did wake nearly two days later, she felt a tear come on. She internalized the fight against that one tear making it onto her cheek. 'No, no, I can't let myself cry. If I start, I won't be able to stop.' And so it went. She had to smile. She had to convince herself that what she had done wasn't that bad. It would be fine. She just had to see if her conscience was up to the task. Could her conscience tell her for this last time-it had to be for the last time-that it was gunna be ok. She was gunna be ok. One deep breath and she was out the door again. Her home was just a place to sleep in-most of the time anyway-and she knew it.
She met up with Billy, her best friend, for a cup of coffee before work. She sat with her eyes down, staring at the filthy diner's booth. She felt akin to it. She stirred her coffee, hoping Billy wouldn't see into her eyes and know the truth. Billy tried to give hints about his concern for her, but he also knew it would only compile her anxiety and possibly send her running further away from her problems.
"Hey, so, I haven't seen you since you flew out to Austin. How's it been?"
She kept her eyes on the coffee.
"It's been good. Yeah, really good. You know, it's a little crazy right now, but yeah I like it. It's good."
"How's your dad been?"
Her eyes came up into Billy's for a few seconds before continuing.
"He's actually kinda sick right now."
"Sorry to hear that. So what's wrong?"
"Well, they aren't sure, but it's possible that the cancer has returned."
"Oh shit Adriana. Are you sure you're ok?"
"Yeah, well, I mean like I said we don't know yet, so I'm trying not to think about it."
There was an awkward silence and a few purposefully loud sighs. Billy thought for a moment what to say. Something that would change the subject and possibly move the conversation into a more positive direction.
"So, what about school. How's that goin' for you?"
Adriana laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Well, huh, not that well. I mean I plan on re-taking some of those classes next semester, but you know with the whole thing with my dad and all, it's just been real hectic and crazy and-"
"Sure sure."
Billy wanted to know how many classes if any, she passed. He quickly realized this was also a subject to be avoided. He went to the old stand by.
"What about music? Are you still playing at all? How's the scene in Austin?"
Her eyes and ears perked up in excitement. She nearly bounced out of the chair. What followed was the typical delusionary talk of near fame that comes from every musician's mouth, especially in a town like Austin.
"Fuck yeah! It's been goin' good Billy. I've been playin' around. You know different people here and there. Still workin' on my solo stuff you know."
"Oh, awesome. That's good."
"Yeah, the only shitty thing is, I had to sell a bunch of my equiment you know. Well, it's at the pawn shop right now, but I'll get it out."
Billy felt his heart sink. He wanted to hold her in his arms and cradle her head telling her it was going to be ok. He knew as well as anyone else that it wasn't going to be ok. She was going to dig that grave with her little spoon until it finally got deep enough to sleep in. She needed the rest, and so did her conscience.
Billy left the diner trying to remember how far he had come. He could be in her position at any moment. For the time being, he had stayed afloat. None of their friends really seemed to be to far away from failure. They all thought about it all the time. Which one of them would turn up in jail, or dead. Those thoughts were all kept quiet in various ways.
Billy's roomate had been a highschool friend. Allen, met Billy in music class and tended to give Billy a hard time. Allen was two years younger and pretty rebellious for kid that never missed an honor roll. Over the years, Allen had lost the rebellious fire that burned in his heart and traded it all for a cold and calculating one. His father's expectations and militaristic complaining had finally gotten to him. Allen spent every waking moment at his computer, sealed off in his bedroom, 16-18 hours a day findind projects that challenged him and sent him running on a track in his mind, in circles, accomplishing nothing.
Allen came out of his room in a huff. He rushed by Billy into the kitchen to make coffee and pull another all nighter on his computer.
"This coffee pot is filthy."
"Sorry man. You want me clean it real fast."
"No. I mean just clean it when you're done with it."
Allen's dad's voice echoed in his mind in a quiet disgust.
"I'm just getting sick of everything around me being so fucking filthy. Everything. Everywhere I look is fucking filth. Every person that comes into our apartment. Filthy."
Billy looked for the exit.
"I gotta go man."
Allen walked back into his bedroom holding his largest coffee mug, passing Billy with his eyes down at the carpet.
Billy decided to pass the time at Dylan's house. Dylan was also a couple years younger than Billy. Billy had thought about the fact that so many of his friends were younger than him. What did it mean? What was the significance of that? Was there any? He didn't feel there was any and decided to concentrate on how to pass his time for the next few hours until Allen cooled off.
When he got to Dylan's house Dylan had been smoking pot, drinking beer, and attempting to write a song on his acoustic guitar.
"What's up man," billy said while looking around for a place to sit.
Dylan had moved four times that year alone and decided each time that it was easier to just get rid of most of his furniture in case he needed to move again.
"Not much dude. You want a beer?"
Billy thought about it. It was afterall, his day off. It seemed all of his friends had that day off, as well as many other days off.
"Yeah, sure."
Billy moved a few magazines and dirty underwear from a small video game chair and sat down with caution. He was handed a beer and popped it open, also with caution. He sipped at his beer slowly in case his conscience was paying any attention.
Dylan looked up at him setting down his guitar.
"So? What's up?"
"Allen was bein' a dick and I decided to get out for a few hours."
Dylan light up another joint and walked around his apartment with his chest held out in defiance.
"Fuck that guy. Never liked him anyway."
Billy thought about that statement. Who did Dylan like? Not that many of Billy's friends anyway. When Billy thought about it, he wasn't sure how many of his own friends he liked either. How do anti-social people fill their time?
"It must be really difficult."
Billy realized he had said out loud what he was internalizing and had to come up with another reason for having said that.
"What?"
"For Adriana right now. She is dealing with her dad in the hospital, plus I think she dropped out again. I wonder if her parents know."
Dylan was just realizing that he had forgotten to run some errands that day and told Billy he was probably going to have to take off soon.
"You can come with me if you want but it may be boring."
Billy looked around again, possibly for a sign that would direct him to his next destination. He thought for what felt like an eternity contimplating what, if any, goals he might have for himself in this wasteland of a day.
"That's alright. I've got stuff I gotta do too."
He didn't, but it was all he could say to buy him some time. He walked the long walk to his car in the complex parkinglot and sat for some time in his car before he started it.
"Well, where to now?"
She met up with Billy, her best friend, for a cup of coffee before work. She sat with her eyes down, staring at the filthy diner's booth. She felt akin to it. She stirred her coffee, hoping Billy wouldn't see into her eyes and know the truth. Billy tried to give hints about his concern for her, but he also knew it would only compile her anxiety and possibly send her running further away from her problems.
"Hey, so, I haven't seen you since you flew out to Austin. How's it been?"
She kept her eyes on the coffee.
"It's been good. Yeah, really good. You know, it's a little crazy right now, but yeah I like it. It's good."
"How's your dad been?"
Her eyes came up into Billy's for a few seconds before continuing.
"He's actually kinda sick right now."
"Sorry to hear that. So what's wrong?"
"Well, they aren't sure, but it's possible that the cancer has returned."
"Oh shit Adriana. Are you sure you're ok?"
"Yeah, well, I mean like I said we don't know yet, so I'm trying not to think about it."
There was an awkward silence and a few purposefully loud sighs. Billy thought for a moment what to say. Something that would change the subject and possibly move the conversation into a more positive direction.
"So, what about school. How's that goin' for you?"
Adriana laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Well, huh, not that well. I mean I plan on re-taking some of those classes next semester, but you know with the whole thing with my dad and all, it's just been real hectic and crazy and-"
"Sure sure."
Billy wanted to know how many classes if any, she passed. He quickly realized this was also a subject to be avoided. He went to the old stand by.
"What about music? Are you still playing at all? How's the scene in Austin?"
Her eyes and ears perked up in excitement. She nearly bounced out of the chair. What followed was the typical delusionary talk of near fame that comes from every musician's mouth, especially in a town like Austin.
"Fuck yeah! It's been goin' good Billy. I've been playin' around. You know different people here and there. Still workin' on my solo stuff you know."
"Oh, awesome. That's good."
"Yeah, the only shitty thing is, I had to sell a bunch of my equiment you know. Well, it's at the pawn shop right now, but I'll get it out."
Billy felt his heart sink. He wanted to hold her in his arms and cradle her head telling her it was going to be ok. He knew as well as anyone else that it wasn't going to be ok. She was going to dig that grave with her little spoon until it finally got deep enough to sleep in. She needed the rest, and so did her conscience.
Billy left the diner trying to remember how far he had come. He could be in her position at any moment. For the time being, he had stayed afloat. None of their friends really seemed to be to far away from failure. They all thought about it all the time. Which one of them would turn up in jail, or dead. Those thoughts were all kept quiet in various ways.
Billy's roomate had been a highschool friend. Allen, met Billy in music class and tended to give Billy a hard time. Allen was two years younger and pretty rebellious for kid that never missed an honor roll. Over the years, Allen had lost the rebellious fire that burned in his heart and traded it all for a cold and calculating one. His father's expectations and militaristic complaining had finally gotten to him. Allen spent every waking moment at his computer, sealed off in his bedroom, 16-18 hours a day findind projects that challenged him and sent him running on a track in his mind, in circles, accomplishing nothing.
Allen came out of his room in a huff. He rushed by Billy into the kitchen to make coffee and pull another all nighter on his computer.
"This coffee pot is filthy."
"Sorry man. You want me clean it real fast."
"No. I mean just clean it when you're done with it."
Allen's dad's voice echoed in his mind in a quiet disgust.
"I'm just getting sick of everything around me being so fucking filthy. Everything. Everywhere I look is fucking filth. Every person that comes into our apartment. Filthy."
Billy looked for the exit.
"I gotta go man."
Allen walked back into his bedroom holding his largest coffee mug, passing Billy with his eyes down at the carpet.
Billy decided to pass the time at Dylan's house. Dylan was also a couple years younger than Billy. Billy had thought about the fact that so many of his friends were younger than him. What did it mean? What was the significance of that? Was there any? He didn't feel there was any and decided to concentrate on how to pass his time for the next few hours until Allen cooled off.
When he got to Dylan's house Dylan had been smoking pot, drinking beer, and attempting to write a song on his acoustic guitar.
"What's up man," billy said while looking around for a place to sit.
Dylan had moved four times that year alone and decided each time that it was easier to just get rid of most of his furniture in case he needed to move again.
"Not much dude. You want a beer?"
Billy thought about it. It was afterall, his day off. It seemed all of his friends had that day off, as well as many other days off.
"Yeah, sure."
Billy moved a few magazines and dirty underwear from a small video game chair and sat down with caution. He was handed a beer and popped it open, also with caution. He sipped at his beer slowly in case his conscience was paying any attention.
Dylan looked up at him setting down his guitar.
"So? What's up?"
"Allen was bein' a dick and I decided to get out for a few hours."
Dylan light up another joint and walked around his apartment with his chest held out in defiance.
"Fuck that guy. Never liked him anyway."
Billy thought about that statement. Who did Dylan like? Not that many of Billy's friends anyway. When Billy thought about it, he wasn't sure how many of his own friends he liked either. How do anti-social people fill their time?
"It must be really difficult."
Billy realized he had said out loud what he was internalizing and had to come up with another reason for having said that.
"What?"
"For Adriana right now. She is dealing with her dad in the hospital, plus I think she dropped out again. I wonder if her parents know."
Dylan was just realizing that he had forgotten to run some errands that day and told Billy he was probably going to have to take off soon.
"You can come with me if you want but it may be boring."
Billy looked around again, possibly for a sign that would direct him to his next destination. He thought for what felt like an eternity contimplating what, if any, goals he might have for himself in this wasteland of a day.
"That's alright. I've got stuff I gotta do too."
He didn't, but it was all he could say to buy him some time. He walked the long walk to his car in the complex parkinglot and sat for some time in his car before he started it.
"Well, where to now?"
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