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The black cloud syndrome, firmly entrenched up here on Tobacco Road. Unbelievably, both Saturday and Sunday were carbon-copies. The days began, leaden and humid, the sun strobed from between the clouds until noon... then the first tremors of thunder did the big bass thing in the chest. Three hours later, just before the grass dried, on came the next onslaught. I may not be terribly superstitious, but this trend was hard to dismiss. Miraculously, I managed to refrain from ass-sitting and cursing the fates, and found some constructive ways to get closer to leaving for the ocean. Like, fixing the little irritating problems (read, my fuck up in the ditch, a few months ago) that weren't important enough to worry me before. Things that the gendarmes would love to pick at on the side of the road. Keeping a eye peeled on the rearview is so monotonous. Miss Jane was on her way before noon on Sunday. Nowhere was there anyone to be found to share words with... until, as I was leaving the forlorn pepper garden at Slick Willie's, there he appeared coming from the opposite direction. Instead of pulling into his own driveway, he chose the church at the top of the hill... without a drop of rain on him after a long, beery motorcycle ride. Considering what he had to talk about, it just seemed... blasphemous. And I'm not religious. Schmoozing with rich people at the polo match he was invited to. Making repeated comments about other peoples' wives. How fucked up he got. Stuff he got. How much money he made. Funny how people are lost to you, and you're not sure exactly when it happened. Well, maybe so... that time he saw American Gigolo. Must've been his epiphany. Users... those who apply an affable face and a minimum of effort to get what they can out of others. Not pretty. I wonder how his wife can stand the life. Maybe it's the drugs. Or sacrifice for comfort. The price you pay for sleepwalking through life, I guess. Valuable lesson, there. And who should show up first thing in the morning, like an ill wind? I'm afraid my well has gone dry for such hypocrisy. Yes... I need to get away from here for a while. |
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