Da. is sitting next to me, probably trying to ignore me, but not succeeding.

Da. is sitting there with his wife (Tr.) and I come in from smoking. Slamming the lighter on the bar I say, "I need a gun. I need to do human sacrifice." That is where I'm at. I want to make lives better by force.
"What the fuck did you stop going to school for? I'm going to take your license and come back in six weeks, if you aren't in school I will shoot you dead."
You know what I'm talking about. If you are reading this I know you do.
How can I get us to that point though. That seems like a steep start.
Go back a few hours. Like noon.
"Hey G. want to go to the K. tonight," e-mails Da.
Now I've been avoiding it. I love that place but there is someone there that I was quite enamoured with, and paid an enormous amount of direct attention to at one point. And I've been afraid that with my change in situation (as story in and of itself that I may get into at some point here) that I would have lost the ability to be friendly, without being overbearingly flirtatious. Not because there is really some kind of restriction on that for me now, but because I have lost a lot of interest.
It has become this strange mental test for me. How will I interact with D. now that I don't want to rip her from her boyfriend's arms and immediately bed her (a long shot at best I know, but a desire none the less). So I have been kind of staying away. I've been looking at staying home a lot more. But I can't avoid my life, or my friends, or my place. Because if I had a slot in the Lexicon for places I'm smitten with, The K. would be in there.
So I go. And it feels like this test.
But before I go, Da. texts me, "I took a shot of rum, I'm on my way."
Naturally I need to keep up.
From there it went beer, stout, clove, clove, stout, clove, clove, stout, rum and coke, clove, rum and coke. And the test is being passed. I'm jovial and nice, but not insane with rampant lust (a positive). But somewhere between rum and coke one, and rum and coke two where I'm smoking, I discover that I'm in need of something more.

I know what that is. It is S.F. but I cannot have that tonight.
Next best option, Human Sacrifice with Ja. and Da. The night has already moved into gross hyperbole, and I feel the need to be dangerous. I've already tried to talk a stranger out of joining the navy, and decided that I want to kill thespians. There is only one other option. Saving lives through violent force.
Then Tr. saves Da. from my vile clutches and Ja. ignores my texts and I find myself in the back seat of a car listening to Akala on my way home to eat Taco Bell. All I can think of is S.F. and destruction, and like magic she makes contact. I swoon. Heart in throat kind of shit. I hastily and drunkenly text back, profound words of unending love and devotion that probably are gibberish shit.
She tells me, "Be safe, Te Amo."
I eat with my friends and keep drinking. I know that I need to write just to get my glut of emotions and insanity out. But I can't seem to focus.
The answer. More rum, and outside. Cigar, cold air and endless stars that don't hate like the sun.
Draw this secret dagger and drive it through my chest.
My Bella.
My blood.
My.
My.
My.
My Vocabulary Fails Me.
I'll listen to Novelle Vague and try and find sleep.
Hopefully drink helps.
I have my doubts at this point.
File under vice.
2 comments:
dude i am so sorry i wasn't there with you last night, i was at work and didn't have my phone when i got home i crashed... i apologize for not being there for you
Not a problem. You have your shit too! I never slept. Still haven't (writing at night the next day).
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