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Part II-and back to the house...eventually
II. and back to the House'¦eventually.
I bore out the rest of the day in different bars and coffee shops and newsagents and record stores etc. etc. toiling in queues, buying tiny trinkets I didn't need or even want. 'huh'¯, I would murmur as I looked at what ever piece of shit I picked up as a paper trail of my listless day. And on I walk. The days passed like this when you don't have the enthusiasm or humility to look for the only work you're qualified to do. On the way home I felt the last remnants of the morning optimism drain from the ends of my toes and made a stop at The Front Bar. This was a strange proposition for even the most seasoned of drinkers. The clientele consisted of the most obtuse selection of winos, middle management alcoholics, menopausal divorcees and a mish-mash of other social perverts to really cap off the sense of comraderie in despair. I liked it. The people jeered and grimaced through their glasses which were shoved to their mouth intermittently between each sentence. I would often read in the corner booth and listen to the outrageous claims piercing through the contemplative silence every three or four minutes.
'Did ya know ya can see space fra the great wall in China?'¯
A toothless knacker would cry.
An impatient, 'really?'¯ would escape from the wearisome bar man who has heard this pearl of wisdom 8,000 times before and just wants paid for the stout the old man ordered 15 minutes ago. This is a common ploy of the elderly drunk. The bar man bears the brunt of his sense of neglect. He has to tolerate the old drunk until he receives the money and this isn't a fact lost on the crafty old bastards.
I eventually got home, fiddled with the key and awkwardly glided over the sea of mixed bills in our front porch. I walked down the short dark hall and emerged into the light of the living room to find my gawky duck-billed house mate masturbating to the sounds of some wretched burnt out hag moaning in German.
'Hi'¯, I said.
'Hi'¯, he replied with caution.
All he was wearing was a green t-shirt. I turned and went into my room fixed a drink from the bottle on my dresser, undressed and lay down. I lay with my thoughts for a while but sleep seemed as pointless as my waking hours. I lay in the dark then and listened to Coltrane because I felt pretentious. Pity though I quite liked that green t-shirt.
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Comment by: naoba - 2006-12-23 15:54
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"He has to tolerate the old drunk until he receives the money and this isnā??t a fact lost on the crafty old bastards."
lol!
=) |
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