Saturday, 30 April 2016
I can imagine people sitting here, watching this crap, and end up either going mad or killing themselves. Or worse, turn even more average. The plague of society. Everybody becoming so average that getting naked and drunk is considered a talent to make a show about.
Ugh! I've had enough.
I need to move...hmm... It didn't occur to me that I may not have shoes here.
*gets up* Ow, my body. Just sitting is painful enough. But I have to get out. *walks in a slow fashion to the entrance*
No shoes. Dammit. My mom only has small sizes. Grand. Back to the potato position.
Friday, 29 April 2016
I plop open my eyes and see this woman with wrinkles stretching on her chin and cheeks as she widens her mouth to talk to me.
"How did you find out?"
"They had your wallet and phone."
"How could you?"
"I lost my job. I felt like shit. One pint turned into multiple. I was supposed to be safe."
"Until a car smacked, eh?"
"I don't need this right now, mum."
"Neither do I, but I can keep you here for a short period."
"I can go anytime, thanks."
"No, you can't. You can't even clean yourself properly now with your hand in a cast."
"Cook? No. Work? No. Just shut up and relax."
"Fine. I'll sit here on the couch, wasting my time crying my pain away."
Thursday, 28 April 2016
White ceiling...white walls...white curtains...white sheets... Am I dead?
No. I can't be dead. I-I-I feel pain. Immense pain. God. What's this throbbing stuff in my right arm?
Oh, man, I can't keep it in anymore. I have to yell out my pain. Maybe someone will come and put me out of my misery. Not for good, I hope.
"Doctor, doctor, the patient has awaken. Come quickly." I hear from the door. Cannot turn that way. Is my neck jammed? I don't feel anything bad with it.
"I'm here. Hmm... Why did nobody administer him anything for his pain?"
Incompetents. I can't believe he'd say that out loud.
He's injecting something now, and I am starting to feel calmer.
I'm going to take a nap.
Wednesday, 27 April 2016
When I left the pub, I felt I was going to choke. I spent five hours in that place, drinking my angst away, and the warm atmosphere got into me plenty. The coldness of the 2 a.m. air cuts inside me with ease.
It's weird. I always mocked and laughed at those muppets who got themselves too drunk and couldn't walk properly on the pavement, and here I am, going in a zig-zag fashion on the cobblestone, trying to leverage myself with the help of...air, I suppose.
My eyes can barely stay up. I have to prick them open once every ten seconds with my fingers.
I should be walking one step at a time judging by how the grapefruit in the noggin feels, yet I go three-to-four, and I feel this won't end well.
People have given up passing me by. They cross the street instead, giving me their displeasure through their words and gestures. I wish I could verbally reply, but I can only smile.
... Like that, I mistook a step on the side of the street and arrived on the street. Maybe I should cross, too.
The coast is clear for my passing. Easy, one, two...can't breathe. Crap. In the middle of the road I'm feeling Vader's glove on my throat. Why now of all times?
My eyes are fading and I'm feeling a bright light on me. Did someone turn the...
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
They could use a fucking window up in this place. Either build that or hand out gas masks 'cause it makes me spill my beans, and not in a good way. Goddamit!
Do they even have cleaners here?
I can see crap on the floors as I'm going around puddles of piss, trying to find a spot where my shoes won't be flooded.
Hmm...you know what? I'd rather go back to the door, unzip my fly, and go. It's the safest option. A shame I considered it only after I stepped into this bane of life. You fail only to grow.
Ah, that felt great. It's a little unhygienic, but rather them than me. Now to get out. Bye, yellow liquid.
Monday, 25 April 2016
Drunk. Jobless. Loveless.
The perfect predicament...to kill yourself.
I thought I was safe at work, so I had a nap, then I had a pint.
While drinking, the boss came by and said I'm finished.
To be honest, he kinda had a point.
I was supposed to drill a few holes, and while the first two were fine, the next two were all over the place. It'll take them a few days to seal my mistake and put things in motion for whatever they're building.
I wasn't that upset, either. Losing a job that you hate, but brings you a decent sum should be something that brings you to your knees and apologize to the man. Not me, though. I was chill. Even sprayed him in the face with my deodorant. The bastard.
Figured I'd come in a salsa bar next. Except I don't know the dance. Girls were looking at me as I jumped looking a lunatic on crack trying to dance house or d&b; more like dumbass.
And now it's late.
I've since left that salsa joint and stepped foot in this shabby crib where everything smells and looks cheap.
First, a step to the restroom.
Sunday, 24 April 2016
But anyway, as he came into the living, moving like a zombie without grunts, surely a devolved form, instead of going to the bathroom, he went to the computer and started playing some Facebook crap.
Some games are okay, but not social media ones. Then he went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and returned to the clicky stuff.
If you're wondering why I was there in the first place, it was to scare him when he went to the toilet. No luck, dammit!
But I decided to get up and go over to him.
"Dad," I said as I drew closer.
"Yeah?" Like he knew I was there.
"Why aren't you going to sleep?"
"After I finish the beer."
"Uh-huh. Can you look at me?"
He does. I place my left hand over his right cheek and elbow him in the jaw with my right one. He fell flat on his figure.
In my panic, I dragged him to bed, grabbed my wallet, and didn't come home for three days.
It was certainly messy when I came back.
Saturday, 23 April 2016
"That's...err...not your to touch."
"But I thought you might like it."
"Why would you think that?"
"Don't all guys like it?"
"I've tried it on more and they did."
"They must think you're attractive or something."
*slap* "How could you say that?"
"Oh, get off your high horse, you good for nothing dame."
"Hmph." *she leaves*
"And to think she wanted to drink my flippin' expensive whisky, just like that. The nerve of some people. There are some things you just don't go over."
Friday, 22 April 2016
I was such a klutz back then. Not that I'm much different, but you changed me.
I had forgotten my umbrella like a dumbass, and had to sit in the park, under a tree, feeling the faint traces of dew against my jacket and chin. I felt lousy. I wanted to kick someone's ass. Hell, even a cat's.
Then you stopped by and said "Hi." Damn. My face changed color and the corners of my mouth turned upside.
After much deliberation I said "Yo," like a cocky guy who was shy on the inside.
"Why ain't'cha goin' home?"
"I don't want to be wet." I looked away and placed my hands in my pockets. I though that would be cool for some reason.
"I can stay with'cha."
"Nah. I'll be fine."
Two steps later and she was grinning at me. White teeth like an elephant's ivory, flashing themselves through this disposable weather, ruining the mood. "Why don'cha join me undah my umbrella?"
I have to admit, my knees became moist from that. "Aren't you afraid of me?"
"Why would I be when ya stuck ther' like a cat in a tub?"
She actually made me clench my fist.
"Besides," she carried on. "Ya playin' an act, and tha's not ya."
"How do you know how I am?"
"I can see through peoples."
I don't know if she was bluffing or not, but it relaxed me, as weird as it sounds. So I decided to go for it. To take the plunge and step under her umbrella.
I don't recall how, however, the greyish-looking atmosphere changed into a multi-colored fairy tale adventure, everything blooming and booming, with the rain going into one of the darker rainbow colors. I don't know what was going on, yet I didn't want it to cease.
Thursday, 21 April 2016
And it happened.
I earned more than my parents. Whenever they wanted something and couldn't afford it, I loaned them. No, I didn't ask for the money back, despite receiving it a couple of times. I simply told them this was for my infancy years. They wouldn't have it.
Things went bad, and they lost their jobs.
Sadness is but a small word with what to describe them afterward. Despair is a better one. However, I said I could offer them a hand if they do as I say.
At first no, a week later it turned into a yes. Typical, right? Yet, their lives changed. Gradually, of course.
They went from hating their jobs and squabbling all the time, to enjoying themselves. Hell, I saw them laugh at something else than a kitten video.
Soon, a few of their friends and colleagues came by for a chat. I gave them a chance, too.
More and more people began coming, and more and more strings came into my hands.
I didn't even have to work anymore. A smile, a handshake, and they were on their way.
It's a shame they don't know what they've gotten themselves in.
Wednesday, 20 April 2016
“Why do you have your toe all over my face?”
“Erm… You’re the one holding it.”
“So it wouldn’t go in my mouth.”
“Right. You remember we used to do this when we were small.”
“Yeah. Small. We used to put sand in napkins, tie them up somehow, and pretend we had boobs.”
“God. Then we had them, and they felt so weird.”
“Remember that time when we—”
“Does it still bother you?”
“Hell yeah. I still have a mark.”
“Poor baby, haha.”
“I think it’s time you get out of the box, girl.”
Tuesday, 19 April 2016
Man, it's so annoying trying to find someone to dance my style.
All you see on the floor is athleticism that rivals the Olympians. Really?
I thought dance was more about sensuality and feeling something, and less about shaking your ass, flipping your legs sideways, or jumping on the wall.
I'm looking at these guys on the dance floor and they behave like menopausal bitches, going aggressive, then stopping and starting again. Some of them are thinking "Should I slap her ass or just wiggle my finger like a pooper scooper?"
God they're annoying.
I wish there was someone out there who could do like three moves, you know, right-left-rotate, though I kinda see why people want something different. That gets old fast.
But I still like it.
I'm gonna need another drink.
Monday, 18 April 2016
"Do these jeans make my ass look fat?"
*stares at her with disgust* "Yes."
"You don't seem interested."
"Believe me, it's in my interest to get out of the house today. In the next hour if possible."
"Come on, I haven't been that long."
"You started an hour before we were supposed to leave, we've added another since, and Charlie keeps texting me, wanting to know when the hell we're arriving."
"Won't be long."
"That's what you said five dresses ago."
"And now I'm trying on jeans."
"I'll be in the bathroom, hanging myself."
Sunday, 17 April 2016
Saturday, 16 April 2016
"Don't you know?"
"Isn't it common knowledge?"
"I don't know what's common knowledge."
"Uh-huh. Well, they chop off wood somewhere, cut it, arrange it, and voila, a bench."
"I'm sure it's not that simple."
"How do you mean?"
"I'm sure there's a person that makes sure every part is cut adequately, then polishes that until there are no splinters left, or any way to get them. Then they arrange them all and, plug screws in specific places, and paint it."
"And you said you didn't know."
"I was hoping there's more to it."
"You won't know if someone bleeds over it."
"So what did you want to know."
"Nothing. I guess I'm a knowitall".
"Which is why we're friends."
Friday, 15 April 2016
"Action," says the director from behind.
The actor starts moving. Walking, increasing his tempo, when a pen drops.
He stops for a second as everyone looks at the person who dropped it. He grabs it, places it in his pocket, and sits tight.
The actor goes again.
A cough emerges. The actor pretends like nothing has happened, despite turned heads.
The cough increases. Twice, thrice, and at the forth she runs outside. Fast footsteps, slammed doors, hands clapped.
The actor giggles while he's moving, then says sorry, and carries on.
"Alright," says the assistant director. "We can pretty much chalk this one out. Take five, deal with your shit, and come back."
Thursday, 14 April 2016
One was sitting on the cobblestone, clothes dirty and torn, face with a lot of fuzz and a lack of fat, his innards grumbling from time to time as a tin cup lay in front of his feet, barren and rusted.
In front of him, looking at the water from the stone railing, a man wearing faded jeans, with a cut below the kneecap, and a dark hoodie. Sighing, with a wallet half-empty, he recalls that he spent a lot of money on last night's drinks.
Behind him, but beside the other one, a guy wearing a sharp gray suit with burgundy shoes and matching shoes. Everything was in exquisite detail. Eating a sandwich bought from the local shop, the man enjoyed his lunch break.
Each of them wanted what the other had, and in case of the last one, have more.
Somewhere in the distance, a newspaper flew by. The headline read "Millionaire hanged himself."
Wednesday, 13 April 2016
"No, you can't."
"I've done it a million times before."
"Yeah, but you can't do it this time."
"You've got anxiety."
"I always have. Didn't stop me before."
"Are you sure? Remember that one time?"
"Yeah...but I overcame it."
"It can always happen again."
"Stop it. Why are you here again?"
"Again? I never leave. I'm in your head, remember?"
"Yeah, but I wish your brother would come instead."
"That happy idiot? Why would you want him?"
"Because he'll make me feel unstoppable."
"Right. And is that better than feeling you're worthless?"
"Who would choose to be driven mad at all times?"
"You, and everybody else around you."
"No. Most people have it together. Or at least in a certain way. Not everyone should be locked up somewhere."
"I'm not talking about that."
"Oh, then you're talking about suicide, huh?"
"Some of us want to live."
"I want you to die."
"Goddamit. How do I make you get out of my head?"
"There has to be a different way."
Tuesday, 12 April 2016
Monday, 11 April 2016
Sunday, 10 April 2016
I slowly made my way home, amid the brewing storm.
Standing in front of my door, I took a few deep breath, swallowing what ounce of pride I had in me and rang the bell. Nothing. I rang it again. Nothing.
I checked myself for the keys, and somehow found them in my back pocket, although I don't remember putting them there. Maybe something happened when I was asleep?
Regardless, I opened the door. The lights were out, and no noises could be heard, apart from the dew lashing against the glass.
"Marie?" Nothing. I took off my soaked shoes and walked in the living room. She was nowhere in sight. The clock shows 8:24, a time when she would be watching a soap opera on TV. 'Strange,' I think to myself. I go up to our room. The stairs creak louder than the sky's howl. The door is slightly open, so I push it aside. The glimmer of light that flashes when the lightning hits shows an empty room. I step in and look around, and there it is, the note. "Oh, boy." I nab it with my wet hand.
"I know we've had arguments in the past, and we'll probably have some in the future, but right now I felt I needed a break from you. You probably do, too. I don't blame you. As much as we've made our life enjoyable, we've also made it miserable. We both like to have fun. Let's have that, just not together. I'll come back. Don't know when. Take care of yourself. There's some food in the fridge. Marie."
'Good think I got drunk last night, huh?' I think and start laughing, but it soon turns into a whimper.
Saturday, 9 April 2016
Water trickled down my left eyes. I turned aside and it fell into my right one. I opened them and felt the morning dew streaming down my flesh like a gentle mother caressing her upset child. I smiled as the clouds turned themselves over, faster than a painter strokes his brush. The innocence turned to neutral, then to hatred.
Nobody likes me. Maybe Marie. Oh, sweet Marie. I wonder what you are doing, who are you with, and if you really miss me. If only you could give me a sign.
The skies crack as I mutter that to myself, seemingly eavesdropping on my inner monologue. The bastard.
Friday, 8 April 2016
Thursday, 7 April 2016
It's five in the morning. I'm almost broke, almost sober, and almost crying. Oh, and I almost want to kick my ass. God! How can I be so stupid and waste that much money through booze and penny pinching prats? Sometimes your mind goes haywire, doesn't it? You simply lose the plot and don't know what the fuck you're doing anymore. Marie, Marie, Marie, what will you do to me? I don't want to think about that.
Ah...this sidewalk is great. No holes, no puddles, no warmth either. It's like being single again, sleeping like students do, alone and without heat. I think I miss those days. The days when I had no dosh were amazing. I hate that I grew up, age-wise.
I remember when I was a toddler and my parents told me I'd regret growing, as that's what I wanted. They were right. Damn right. I hate them for it. Stupid parents. Lie to your child once in a while, dammit.
I'm gonna take a nap on the street. It's too relaxing to move away.
Wednesday, 6 April 2016
I surely went somewhere. A casino. Why would I spend more money when I have enough on my plate? Ugh... Sometimes I think so stupidly it boggles my mind even more. If Marie were here, she'd say that it isn't possible since I don't have anything under my skull. Can't say I blame her.
I got drunk and the only thing in my head is her. We have so many arguments, yet I crave for it, for her. Why must I live with such negativity? Am I the kind of guy that thrives in madness and can only get going by that? I hope not. God, I'm so frustrated. I wanted to dump her before I arrived at the boozer. Now I'm calm, pissed, and about to lose from my savings. Somebody kills me already.
"Are you okay, Sir?" The dealer says.
"Grand. Come on, roll it." I place seven chips on red 23 for the roulette. I'm confident. Not too confident, as I've already lost ten chips on poker, five on blackjack, and eight on craps.
It's rolling, and rolling, and rolling, and it falls...on fuckin' black 5. Motherfucker. I hate this game.
Tuesday, 5 April 2016
"Hey, mate. Hey, it's time to go."
"Huh?" I rub my barely open eyes and try to gather where I am. The glowing yellow light turns bright, filling up my irises with a horrible plight. "Am I still at the pub?"
"What time is it?" I blink a couple of times, then turn towards the bartender. A fellow of about twenty-five with a pedophile-like mustache. He must be drunk, too.
"Well past two."
"Blimey. Everybody's left."
"Yeah. We only kept you since you weren't making any noise."
"Kept me for what? You some kind of Frankenstein people?"
"Nah, mate, haha."
"After work drinks, then?"
"Not tonight, I'm afraid."
"And here I got my hopes up."
I whisked myself on my feet. The place was spinning with every step, and I'm sure that guy was laughing all they, hiding it under his scrawny pencil-sketch of a fuzz. I didn't care. I wanted out of there. The question is, do I go home or do I do something else while I avoid my wife?
"Have a safe trip home," he says as I open the door.
"You too." With that, I left the establishment and went on my way somewhere.
Monday, 4 April 2016
One pint, two pints, three pints, four. I don't remember. I had more, for sure.
I enjoyed sitting on that bench so much that I went inside this hell hole and got myself drunk. I'm sure Marie will yell at me. Yell and nag and point at my face while complaining that I spent all the money. I should care, since I'm the only one making it, but I'm not. I don't know. The alcohol is talking, for sure.
I'm looking at this douchebag bartender, who only cares about making more money for the pub by trying to swindle others into buying a double or a large glass, or sides for their meals. It's admirable that he wants that, but he's not getting any tips, the lummox. For sure.
I think they're open for three more hours. I can last. My wallet can last. Will my stomach last? It better. When was the last time I drank this much? Four months ago? Six? Jenny's party? Grr... Not only do those moments seem far, but they also feel happy.
They say that there has to be a sad moment through every relationship. I don't know who they are or how they know this, yet mine has had one too many. Maybe I need find myself a new woman a kick that brunette out of my life. For sure.
Sunday, 3 April 2016
I'm here again. On the bench. Ugh... Third time this week.
I hate it when Marie is difficult, and whenever we argue, one of us has to leave the place so we won't make matters worse.
It still boggles my mind how we can discuss so stupidly or crappy subjects like "Why did you buy this brand of crisps," "Why do you always leave the socks in your pockets when you put your trousers in the wash," and my favorite "We should drink some expensive stuff next time."
Sure, some of it is tame, but when I say "no" to something, it turns into another, and another, and another. I really don't know why we keep having these shitty discussions for, but something has to change.
Yeah, change. I've made my mind up. I'm gonna march in our place and...start another heated conversation. Ugh... I need a vacation. It's always raining in this place. Maybe it's depressing me, us, in such a way that it also affects our brains.
I'll stay here for a little while longer and enjoy the dark cloud. A nice piece of solitude.
Saturday, 2 April 2016
In a room, somewhere in the world, were two guys trying to figure out their next hit.
"What do you wanna sing about?"
"Girls, you know, like boobs and ass, and all that."
"Don't we have four songs of the subject already?"
"Right. How about something else?"
"Where did that one come from?"
"Life? Melodramatic sappy shit, that hits you right in the feels."
"Wasn't our whole album about that?"
"We can make a new one. They won't know what hit them."
"Man, it's hard with you now."
"Well, 'cause we're stuck in a rut."
"We're not. How's about we remake something?"
"Are we Hollywood now?"
"All flash and no pash, the fourth album. We even have a title."
"Selling out as the subtitle."
"Now we talkin'."
"I'm going out to clear my head."
"Cool. I'll think of songs."