The Journal, A Memoir, Pt 1 contd.

 May 18th

I follow Jack into the night club. The street is a cold lonesome shell, wet with civilization and the onset of night. They follow us in and sit casually at the bar. It’s a high class fancy joint and vacant for a Wednesday night.

“What will it be fellow ladies and gents?” asks the bartender. He has one lazy eye that drifts far off in the opposite direction.

The girl has taken a seat next to Jack, “Cosmo,” she says waving a loose finger and falling off her bar stool. It arrives in moments, pink wide-lipped glass with a slight curve in the stem. Jack said this place has the best cosmos in town. She takes a sip and looks to me. Sad diluted eyes on a beautiful face. She opens her mouth, “Hello,” she says, “I can see you.” Her body rocks slowly in her seat. Head bent and jerking from one side to the other. “I can see what you are,” she adds with half-open eyelids.

 PLEASE NOTE: Parts and scenes in this story contain graphic, not necessarily violent, 
 but imagery for NC17, and vulgar use of the English language. Any readers sensitive 
 to this subject matter please stop reading.
 Explicit Content: Content not suitable for young or sensitive audiences.

“OH? You like my peanuts?” I reply. Jack laughs. His laugh is a bubble from the bottom of his gut. It works its way up, struggling against gravity. When it reaches the top, it pops, setting him in jerking tremors of joy. He rubs his pale bald head. He turns to the bartender drying out a glass, “hey Frank, I’ll have a Cosmo too.” Jack comes here often. He lives down the street. I order an old fashion. It seems appropriate for an establishment such as this. I feel like a classic mobster, without the gun and without the dames.

Twenty minutes pass. The bar has no more customers than when we strolled in drunken. The bartender wants to leave. I can see it on his face, through his half fake smile serving our stupidity and not caring because we aren’t tipping. He checks his wristwatch often on the inside of his right arm. I figure he keeps it on his right arm to see it with his good eye. Then he looks at me, with that other eye. Like I’m the ringleader. It then veers to the left. I wonder if his field of vision is like a chameleon.

I order another old fashion, drinking slowly and enjoy it. Except for the cherries. They are shredded. This will not do. They clog my straw. I can not eat them. This does nothing beneficial to the drink. Who thought to put chewed up cherries in a drink?

Jack looks over, “you should only let people know what you want them to know Chet.” He gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Give out little amounts of information. What you want them to think? Retain distance.” He takes a drink. “You must create in their mind what you want them to perceive. ” He picks his hat off the bar top and places it gently on his shiny head.

“Like a regular nobody, blended up and regurgitated, like these cherries. Doing my own thing.”

“Very well,” he says sipping the last drops down his throat. He stands up hopping down from the tall black leather barstool. The seat spins. Jack walks over to the girl. She stretches out her arm holding the Cosmo and deliberately drops it. It falls to the floor and shatters. Jack puts out his arm for her to wrap onto. They link elbows and together walk toward the exit. Jack tips his thin-brimmed hat down. She stumbles on her heels. Jack catches her. At the door, she stops to say something, but I don’t understand. She laughs a haunting, tormenting laugh. It digs its way into my spine, scratching at the very seams of my being. “Be a nobody kid.” She laughs some more. “Be a nobody.”

The girl falls again stepping out the door. Jack grabs her, a real hand full. He's going to have fun tonight. They laugh walking down the street and into the night.

I finish my drink. Slowly, I admire the dim golden atmosphere I have created around myself. There is an empty dance floor in the back of the room. A glittering disco ball dangles from the ceiling. The rest of the bar is filled with empty round tables. Society seems built for relationships, happy loving couples, and business deals. There is no room for the loner, except in a vacant parking lot.

I finish my drink and step outside. A small round light bulb buzzes overhead. I hear the heels of my shoes echo down the alleyway. Streetlights blink in the skyline.

Is it easy to capture a woman’s heart? The implications of life are fascinating, complex in all ways, yet simple, in endless details, stories and directions, a medium of creating interesting results. Upon this transparent river, people swim in action.
Yet, we have teeth, and everything else to lose.

Please place the purple peddles along the path for her to walk upon? Through the green trail and into the waterfall,
Alone,
alone,
I hear the mother call.

I am in love with her lips

Send me pictures of you
painted in red.
A life I cannot imagine.
Without me,
Without you,
In her eyes.
When they are closed.

Four hours of pillow talk
Cameras
And moans.

I am an hour late for work
And desperate moments from you
In misery.

A dream of you within me.

See me in your closed eyes.
Taste me in your mouth when I am away.
As I smell you on my skin
Your body
my
New religion.

Absorb me into your veins
Intravenously.
I need you everywhere to be.
My sweet Cure
From this Misery.

 Past Entries:

https://steemit.com/writing/@ghostfish/4f49hj-the-journal-a-memoir-pt-1-contd

https://steemit.com/w/@ghostfish/the-journal-a-memoir-pt-1-contd

https://steemit.com/writing/@ghostfish/the-journal-a-memoir-intro-prelude-pt-1

Thank you for reading,
Cheers!
Chet Livingston