A 40% Pupal chamber

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 12, 2016

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Submitted: September 12, 2016

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Ok, there’s been some blues lying on my chest lately. I have to make a movie from all the scattered pieces that I have collected during the last couple of months. I’ m not confused or ashamed of talking to myself. Better this than silence… I want to see a movie tonight at the old amphitheater. Finally Nick Cave and his black and white gang have released something really deep and inspiring. I’m taking an old friend with me. We used to be in a band together. Played some heavy shit, hairy and wild. And now we only talk once a month or less. But we still pretend to be kind to each other. He wants to be an actor and I am just randomly wasting my life. He has a lot of new friends. I have none. He is becoming more and more demanded. I am thinking of a powerful gun that will take me to wonderland.

I wish I wasn’t such an idiot, such a dork to myself. I met the sunset in the fields. I’ve seen beauty of every day’s life, hidden from the noisy restless city. So be it. Beauty is only for the few, who are really searching and not hiding from it. I met a very nice young lady. I want to call her a “lady”, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She had an unusual name and I didn’t like it at the very first instant. But then she spoke. Her voice was quiet and distinctive. Her hair short and fair. Her eyes big, dark, looking, piercing, but not reaching the center. If she had, she would’ve fled from the sight of the precipice. Oh, her eyes, black, animal-like, but not in a scary way, more like an intelligent rabbit or something.  And her cloths! Yes, the way she was dressed…I really liked it and I wanted to greet her, to invite her to sit by my side, for company.  A soft, quiet company she was, especially when she touched my shoulder with a rim of her shoulder as if by accident.

I feel rather sick today. I’m still a bit dizzy, a bit drunk, but mostly sick. My neighbors think I’m fucking bananas. They all wait for my death and soon they will be happy. I offered her a drink and before I started to sip, I knew it wouldn’t make me feel better. I wish I wasn’t such an idiot and would’ve taken a jacket of some sort instead of all the booze in my bag. I had to smuggle it past the security. Tomorrow I will wake up to an autumn breeze growing into wind in my empty apartment. Now I am sitting here, watching Nick Cave and the gang in 3-D, slowly drinking whiskey, losing the design of the film. I am sitting beside her, between a very nice young girl and my best friend, my brother who has long-betrayed me. I sit in between two vital things and I just don’t feel anything. Don’t need anything. I’m losing the storyline of the movie slowly.
And she is watching it quietly to the left of me. She seems grey, tired and troubled. Exhausted and introverted secretly, not openly, if it makes any sense. She is a chrysalis, which has to bloom out into the world, or collapse within, into itself. I have my own pupal chamber around me. A 40% alcohol by volume. And for now she is a complete stranger. But if I touch her, if I somehow attract her attention she is going to become a summer, warming my morbid emptiness. She is going to hatch… A cheeper yellow, out of an egg. It’s up to me, but I am an idiot, so I drink and drink hard… Until I no longer understand where I am, or what I am doing here. I can’t even speak right now. I am losing the movie. A wretched dork.  I chose emptiness… Void and blackness. I don’t know why, but things have been like that since forever with me. The movie is endless. I don’t know what they are talking about, but the director definitely deserves an Oscar. 
I tell her stories of my past and it’s a big mistake, because all I say is true. I forget to lie, I don’t make things brighter. She looks like she doesn’t need it, but she needs it, just like everyone else. Oh, and her perfume is strange. I hope she is not a Christian zealot, because she smells like one… What a coincidence…  The movie
makes me feel like I’m a spaceman, floating at the orbit of some strange, undiscovered planet. I’m on its nameless moon. She says she plays chess. She seems smart, that’s bad news. I screw all dialogs up. I follow her home. I wee in front of a guarded administrative building, right under a huge wide tree in the middle of the street. People come by. Black shadows in the night. I don’t give a damn about them, I am drunk and desperate. In the morning I will feel ashamed. I only did such things twice in my life. I think it’s ugly. I will be ashamed, but right now I am a previous rock’n’roll version of myself. I am 19, brave and reckless, and…dumb.  I return, they await. I’m surprised, we go on. I want to take her by the hand, but she refuses. Three times “no”. I am a reject. She’s home, bye, see ya! I know I won’t. Well, whatever, there’s a long way home with a friend that has betrayed me many painful times. That fucker, whom I learned to love and hate. The next day they’re friends and I am a lonely dork again.
But mostly I curl inside my typewriter and wish that I could die.


© Copyright 2017 Alex Larkin. All rights reserved.

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