Thursday, November 16, 2006

I longed to sail around the world.

For a while I thought explosive outward eruptions of passion would save my arse from the mediocrity of passive living. I figured I was the flag bearer for Troy McLure's Wild Ride Lifestyle. Speak out! Act crazy! Tell the world how you feel and chase the fuck out of what you want! Live once, live forever, live free with a smoke in your mouth and a drink in your hand. Show Bukowski how it's done, and never say die. Never say die. I'm a lucky guy.

I'm a lucky guy because however the Hell it happened, my instinct and half smart brain won out in the end. It chilled me out. Secret squirrel. It wrapped all of this emotion into a tiny microcosm and stashed it tight in the base of my spine. I can feel it now. And I like it like this. I like knowing it's been put away, and I can these days walk calmly through the valley of trouble. Using the experience, and finally, at 33, applying the lessons.


Out in the sun the girls walk tall and their hair trails cinnamon and sparks as they follow rays of gold along the road, like walking in mid-air, like dancing through a forest of light. I do the crossword and get stuck on 9 down. But it's okay, I let my eyes and daydreams follow the girls down the street instead. Unfettered by mental termites, sipping sunshine juice and chewing the fat with the gorgeous mum sitting at the table beside me. Hey, it's sunny, I can flirt. Hey, I'm a guy, I can...well, you know. It's nice to have a day when you can just drift. It's nice to simply float on the tide of now. We all float naturally you know, it's when you struggle that you start to drown.


I'm already buggin' to get back on the road. North / West, beaches and fruit and cocktails and towels and books and skin. We're all living for something better, we're all afraid of accepting what we've got is the way it's going to be. But I don't mind anymore. I figure, be cool with this THIS, and you can take it anywhere. Like running from your demons only makes them chase you. Running with your feet on the clouds and the wind behind you, if you run with a happy heart, you can go all the way. And after what seems like forever, this happy heart beats louder than ever.


Conversation that didn't happen:

I want to fuck around, for now, and then settle down later.

That sounds good.

Yeah, and maybe, when I settle down, I want it to be with someone who is cool if I still, well...if weird and sexy things still happen.

I feel the same way.

Let's fuck to that.


Me too.

Oh hey!




Late night in a room music playing light shining in the window from the high rise across the street champagne bottles and sticky table and a menu. I'm hungry. I'm REALLY HUNGRY. Instead I get dressed and go for a walk around the block. Here's a bar, there's a bar, there's some people, where's some trouble? I decide to go to a place I have never been before and casually people watch. This is the thought that comes into my head:

About 7 years ago I went out with a girl named Gretel. She was the first person with whom I began to explore some dangerous sides of sexuality. We used to look at personals together, but in a kinky way, not a funny haha way. We used to talk about her meeting up with men. I'd get jealous when we talked about it but there was another feeling too. I liked it. We took a lot of drugs together. And we used to simply spend the whole night in my octagonal shaped bungalow, off our heads talking fantasies together while we fucked. Eventually, she must've tipped, because before too long she was having an affair with a guy twenty years older. She'd done a bartending class in the city. He was the teacher. After a year of being in each other's pockets, one night she simply disappeared. It's a fine line between being psychic and being paranoid. You know what I mean? So anyway, stuff happened, it went on, and eventually I left. But over the weeks of break up that we went through, we talked and cried and fucked and hugged and out of the blue she told me a story. Matty, last night I missed you so much, I went and sat in a bar alone. A man came over and bought me a drink. I let it happen. I let it happen. He took me home, he must have been 40 (she was 21) he took me home and opened the draw beside his bed and took out a silver vibrator and I let it happen but all I could think about was you. I liked her story, but I was hurtin. Walking out that night, was the last time I ever walked out.

That is what I remember when I'm sitting at the bar. So I down my whiskey, and take myself back to bed, back to what's important. A healthy grasp of self. If you know what I mean.


Okily bye, I'm off to enjoy flashbacks and sunshine and music and misfits.*

* Not that one.

1 comment:

  1. You equals beautiful, mr.

    Have fun in the sun.

    Love Steph

    PS I don't lose Scrabble, fucko.