| got nothin. |
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stuff we wrote before now.
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places to go .: immaculate ejaculates :. |
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people to meet .: josh :. |
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just so you know all the material on this site is legally protected by american copyright law, etc., etc., etc., and is the intellectual property of the writer. if you'd like to use or comment on any of these pieces, please contact the author. if you don't, we'll have our friend Ox come to your house and break your children. he's a kung fu master. |
Monday, June 04, 2007
1.
This place stinks. Not the normal bad smell of tiny local bars, the spilled beer and smoke stench, but something stale. It smells old, stagnant. Almost like museums smell, but more depressing. The people themselves are here on display every night much like exhibits. Townsfolk either too worn-down or too apathetic to care that this has become their fate. Stuck in a dying town, attending the same job each day and the only bar each night. Most of them are here alone, the only ones here with someone are an elderly couple sitting at one of the few, under-sanitized tables, and two young girls. The television is on, but no one watches, not even the bartender who spends more time emptying ash trays than at the tap.
I say the couple is elderly as a polite way of saying they are too old to still be coming here regularly, though as I know too well, age is a matter of relativity. The girls must be younger than twenty-five. Probably work at the same job and out together as sounding boards for the same complaints about life they make every night. They’re learning that life isn’t fairy tales and happy endings, they must have been quite naïve for this realization not to have set in long before they came to this.
I finish my smoke, and light another, must keep up appearances. Wouldn’t want someone here to notice I’m not a townie and decide to pump me for information about anything more interesting than what happens in the ten-mile radius of this pit. I normally have no problem with socializing while enjoying a few drinks but just the thought of carrying on a conversation with someone from this place is depressing enough. Tomorrow’s journey to anywhere but here is already on my mind as I quietly pay my tab. Yes, anywhere but here will be fine.
Still though, my mind keeps wondering back to the two young girls, especially the red-head with the large breasts. I’ve been staring over in her direction for some time now wondering. What would she have been like if she had been born anywhere else in the world, someplace where a face like hers might have gotten her farther than a dead-end job? I wonder what she’d look like if she smiled. The smile she might have worn has long since been driven off. This place is a cancer on the mind and spirit. Yes, anywhere but here tomorrow.
As I’m heading back to what is considered a hotel here, surprised that with the town's location and shabby appearance that there is a hotel, I take a minute to enjoy the only thing remarkable about the town, the air. It rarely smells this good anywhere else, but a town with no industry lying this close to the mountains has an abundance of clean air. It leaves you wondering why the townspeople are so drawn to the museum odor of the bar when they could be anywhere else smelling air like this. Nostalgia grips me and I catch myself reminiscing of my past. Winters in northern Italy. I should go back there soon, see if anything is left of the place I grew up. I left without really taking it all in as I should have.
Now I’ve depressed myself again but at least this kind of sadness has meaning and focus. This kind of sorrow gives life direction. My mind’s made up now and I’ll be able to sleep well tonight. Yes, the red-head with the big tits. I'll kill her tonight.
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