I remember the first girl I ever slept with made the air smell like melting Kit Kat. We were outside in the driveway while the adults sat drinking and drowning loquacious and blind inside the house. I remember they’d left the porch light on. I remember they’d left the front door open but the screen door was closed. And I remember t’was the magic and fire of skin that hour and the sky was blushing crimson as the sun sank behind the soft haze mound of the horizon and pretended not to watch us as we clambered into the speedboat that sat on a trailer parked in the drive. Behind the house was a drive-in and we laughed and throttled our way toward the adventures beyond the fence and far away, to a fantastical forever. I don’t remember her last name, I don’t remember really, what she looked like but I remember taking off her red sweater, unwrapping her and gently pushing apart her trembling limbs and I remember how she breathed and the sound of her lips opening and the whole world turning chocolate and expectation and dizziness.
Afterwards we lay back on the front of the boat and we could see over the fence and down the hill and the earth was a mirror, stars all around, above and below and I felt different and so did she, to me.
What’s going to happen? She asked me. I remember that.
I said:
Nothing. I said nothing.
She takes the cigarette from me.
[I want her lips. I want her lips.]
You want to go to Heaven, Matty?
No. I want to stay here.
[with her lips]
You always look like you’re looking somewhere else Matty, you’re always looking somewhere else. What’s going on in there? What do you think about?
I don’t lift my head but I turn it toward her. I take my cigarette back.
[i am the universe-i swallow the world-i am the universe-i swallow the world-my lust-my seer-i am the fucking universe-this dream is you-we have forgotten the truth-i have to find it deep inside you-i swallow the fucking world-i am the universe-your skin my skin one thing we sing ring ring your call-for i am the universe-i swallow it all]
Nothing beautiful. I’m not thinking at all.
The screen door opens and the memory goes black and I am here with you under the clouds, dreams in flight and forever out of reach.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
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.
Ok.
Me too.
Oh hey!
Hey!
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.
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.
Ok.
Me too.
Oh hey!
Hey!
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.
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