Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Rhapsodizing In The Men's Room

I was ready to go out that night. Friday night. A long awaited time that repeated itself every 144 hours. The week was stressful enough not to focus all my might on the glorious Friday nights. 

Ready like any other day I spritzed my favorite cologne all over my neck, chest and finally all over my black leather jacket. I was ready.

Off I went. The red moon shone down on me. Hole's music was my soundtrack that evening. I loved the way the screaming 3-riff master pieces of Miss Love would make me feel when I walked through the darkness when I went drinking.

The first time I heard of Hole was in high school. During my angsty years. I would lock myself inside my own world and write stories and verses. Enjoying every moment of dread and fear. Enjoying the darkest moments of that part of my life. Learning their songs on my guitar and bass and performing each one of their songs just for myself.

I opened the doors of A1. I descended into a loud ever-changing cloud of light, smoke and music. I took my headphones off. Rolled the cable around them and carefully placed them inside my black leather shoulder bag. I paused my iPod and continued to walk down the stairs. 

Laser beams illuminated the haze above me and all around me. My friends were waiting for me at our usual table. Like every other Friday night. A nice cold pint of beer was already there waiting for me at my place. 

Cheers!!!, we shouted. And the night had officially begun.

My friends knew that I was a quiet person from time to time. They knew this and they didn't have any problem with me just sitting next to them. I, occasionally gave voice to thoughts and I was glad they would listen and appreciate my short moments articulated clarity.

It was Hole night. At least in my head. The laser beams turned blood red and The Pretty Reckless began playing. 

"Evil knocking at my door 
Evil making me its whore 
I don't mind if you take what's yours 
But give me mine"

Taylor Momsem began teasing my brain with her wrecking verses. The night had turned into a mosh pit,a full-on, drinks and spinning heads. The party had just become a Friday night party. 

"How you like me now?
Did I succeeded in making you proud?"

I began pissing. The darkness echoed through the walls of the toilet of A1. I was all alone. I could hear the crowd moving to the beat of the rumbling guitars of Momsen. I was all alone. Deep inside my own self. 

I like you alright and I am proud of you. I thought to myself.





Hrms Etc
15.4.2014



Monday, February 17, 2014

Ephemeral, Something Missing

I opened my eyes. I was in the darkness of my mother's house. I couldn't tell the time. It was dark and the only things I could see where the shapes of the furniture that had been unmoved since her passing.

The air had a particular smell. I remembered that scent. I managed to go upstairs without tripping over anything. I was careful and I was afraid I would know something down and break it.

I reached my mother's bedroom. I didn't have to open the door as she never did. The doors to her room were always open. This time was not the exception The doors were wide open as she had never left. 

It had been many years since I had been in this place. So many memories. So much love. So much I couldn't move. 

Tears began rolling down my eyes. I reached for the lights. I was in the toilet. On the floor. And I was so sad. So many thing I would have liked to tell her. if only I had known that she would leave me. If I had known that, what would I have said, or done to make her happier. 

I lit a cigarette. I needed to smoke to make myself feel at least a little bit better.

A fire erupted from my zippo. It engulfed all the memories and thoughts I had been having. The fire consumed all my suffering and all the longing for being there and when it ended I had been born again. And she was there to hold my hand again. She put my head on her chest. And her heart I heard and felt.




Hrms Etc
17.2.2014