Monday, August 10, 2009
the best night ever
as soon as i got off work that night
i went and met up with two of my friends
i still had my backpack with me
(i always feel weird going to the bar with my backpack still on but sometimes you just gotta do it)
us three, chasing a massive high
chasing another cheap shot
chasing after women
chasing after another cigarette
we went to this bar
it was dark, down a side street
it started raining right after we walked in
and there she was.
sitting at the bar
reading the village voice
eating a slice of chocolate cake
i asked her if she is who i think she is.
she said, "yes!"
then i told her that i had a crush on her
(thoughts racing of how i idolized her, envied her, wanted to marry her, etc, etc....)
and she turned away from me
looked to my friends
swiveled on the stool and asked us,
"hey you guys look like you smoke c-notes"
she looked down at the newspaper, pointing at a graphic of a greenback.
she was staying in a hotel in jersey for the night
we took the path back with her
she invited me in pulled me by the hand and left my friends in the hallway
and we proceeded
to touch and wrestle and smoke and sniff (and fuck)
then she packed her things and left town
she walked out the door into a beat up maroon van
i watched her from the hotel window in a total thoughtless daze
i met up with my friends at some diner nearby
they asked how my night was
then they asked where the drugs were at.
(in my euphoric daze i must have left my backpack at the hotel.)
by this time the sun was coming up
rippling across the waterfront
crashing against the immense windows of the hotel
when i arrived, a large man was waiting in the lobby.
(think: ted stevens from cursive or pete from the fifth wheel by bret easton ellis)
i asked if i could have my backpack back.
he pointed to it.
"what this? you want this?"
i stuttered, "well you di...didn't go through it did you?"
he proceeded to explain, "in fact i did.
i did go through it.
and among other things
i found two ounces of marijuana."
i didnt even run, i walked.
i walked out calmly
exiting through the revolving doors.
i didn't look back
because i knew he was following me.
when i rounded the corner
there he was
he punched me in the face
i didn't go down but lost sight for a moment
wavering on my feet almost falling in the puddle i was standing in
(oh god, she was so beautiful i loved the way she smiled at me from over her shoulder as she left oh god i would leave all of my family and all of my friends for her)
then he punched me again
right in the face.
two shots right in a row.
(is there something in that hedonism so thickly veiled are all these chemicals just a mechanism to keep us from animalism or maybe they bring us closer to it regardless its a choice its a choice to live with a bleeding stomach and a fried brain flailing wildly for love and companionship. some rastafarian sang that smoking ganja brings you closer to god...i'm unsure)
"why would you do that?!?!?" i asked him.
we ride in his car to the station
i saw a bum taking notes on a paper plate
in the front seat he was shuffling through my ipod
"great selections man, you must be a rocker, nice, the bosss"
(to be honest, i've hated bruce springsteen ever since he lived past 35)
but i agreed with him and he put on the song, "she's the one"
(the lamest song on the record)
and i looked out the window
(thinking: maybe ganja does bring you closer to god.)