It just takes a sentence to get things started.
Then you find something to talk about. Or you get halfway down writing a paragraph before erasing it all, because… well, just because I guess.
I took the bus home today. There were grey skies over the city again, and with it came the solemn mood that hangs over the city like the fog. Cold and wet I waited for the 18 bus, praying I wouldn’t encounter some sort of heathen or crazed molester diddling himself in the back. Riding tonight made me nervous because I kept thinking about my dream the night before.
It seems like I can’t go one night without a dream nowadays. Even now with heavy eyes and a tired mind, I await my subconscious dreamer, wondering which unwritten storybook will appear before me tonight. But, as I sat in the hard plastic seats of the bus tonight, my dream of dying kept creeping into me. It began with a argument, it ended with me bleeding on a cold dirty bus floor. I was waiting to wake up, but after I opened my eyes after the loud Bang of the gun I began to wonder if I was really dreaming. I remember I was seated on the bus floor, trying to apply pressure onto my pulsing wound. Warm blood poured out of me, and I could feel a thin feeling of draining and falling slowly. I could only focus on what was right in front of me in between blackouts. I was shot to the right of my belly button. I knew it hurt, but the draining feeling was more pronounced. I wasn’t passed out, but I began to have a feeling as if I was constantly awakening when people called my name, or told me to stay in there because help was coming. For a brief moment I thought it wasn’t a dream and I was scared.
I forget how I woke up, but I was glad I did. And now I sit here before you recalling these old stories, reminding myself that we only live once. Which is exactly why I’ve been running a little wild lately. New mopeds, Van parties, street fires, hiking with the Devil. I’ve been keeping myself busy. I wonder when the monotony will set in.
My new bike is red, her name is Tina and she likes to go fast. I bought her from a man with two souls. One was for heaven, one was to fuck your mother in hell he said. Harsh words from a polite man, but he sold me a Magnum for $700, so I couldn’t complain. He told me to treat her gentle, because she was a classy lady, and so I have been. He seemed a little heartbroken when I 2-stroked her away, but I can’t blame him.
It’s difficult not having a regular work week. I work Fridays to Mondays with breaks on Tuesdays and Thursday for school. So when Travis and Monica called me on a Saturday evening to come drink whiskey and steal things to set them on fire I immediately obliged. We set fire to the street like the Giants won the World Series again. We drank and stole, and burned and rode mopeds around to salute one of our own. He’s blasting in a better place now, Texas I think. I barely knew him, but we hugged each other like we were old friends saying goodbye. Such gentle folk I’ve come to find on these streets. I imagine his van riding through the sunset of route 66, windows down, Jack and Diane by John Mellancamp on repeat.
Drunk plans are made to be broken. However, they are especially rewarding when they come to fruition. It’s interesting that I can make plans with people I hardly know and become absolutely comfortable around them. I assume it’s something I picked up Willits. It was the first time I hung out with Clare. I didn’t know what we had in common besides breathing, eating and fucking. But there we were on a fine Californian Wednesday afternoon on the top of the peak of Mt. Diablo. Gracing us with her company was Clare’s friend Vanessa, and together we trailed through the woods together, skipping over puddles and broken branches while laughing about stupid things. Stopping where the trees opened up enough for us to take a small picnic and look for miles over the hills. The sky looks bigger up there. We made it to the peak and back down to the lower summit just in time to witness the sunset to the west. We could see San Francisco with her Trans-American building and the tips of the bridge as they silhouetted behind a golden sun. We had a lot of fun, and the drive was nice, and the conversation was pleasant as it always seems to be nowadays.
I didn’t try to kill myself this time.
Tina
Keep that adventure alive youngblood.
