Tuesday, July 26, 2005

I don't even care anymore

That's a lie.

That's what I want to do.

Early this morning, I do a search on Flickr that amounts to searching for "smith" on Google. A needle in a thousand haystacks. But I click on: like 1200 pictures. I hate myself for it.

A $240 fuck-up today. City sticker.

Work was long and boring. I don't know where I want to be, but surely not here. Except when I made Amber Chunky Globes turn red with laughter when I did my "wearing silk boxers" routine.

I don't want to go home. Nothing but heat and memories there. I park on Touhy and enter The Lamp Post. The possibility of Momentary Relief lures me in, like a moth to the flame.

I sit alone at the farthest end of the bar. Stare, and pretend to give a shit about the Cubs v.s. San Francisco game. Cubs win! Mac loses.

I can't escape it, even here. Patrick says "the hardest game in life is love. Being in love and loving someone." His sister died and he got The Phone Call here. I feel like crying overhearing this.

Courtney in the Cubs hoodie went to Lollapalooza with her "new boyfriend!" And he's "so cute!" I watch the other couple make out at the bar and cringe. I kiss another Jameson on the Rocks and a Camel. I hate myself more and more after each drag.

I watch the party on the balcony across the street. A group of black guys and girls in red and white t-shirts. I should be there, but I don't know why. I watch the 13 year old girls at the table by the window, especially the one with the stuffed pink teddy bear. I want to talk to her, hear a fresh innocent perspective on things. They sip their Cokes, and chat with The Lamp Post softball team members dressed in red. Everyone is with a date.

The rain starts up again.

Patrick's blonde friend puts her legs up on the barstool next to me. Her black dress twisted.

"What are you drinking there? You have to watch him, he's drinking that dark liquor, like Scotch or something. What are you drinking?"

"Jameson."

"Ahh, a fooking Irish! Keep a watch on him."

"I can handle him," the older blonde says, and then they pay me no mind.

I have to work tomorrow, so I head out into the rain for home. There's a parking space open right by my back gate.

It was all, sadly, meant to be.

God.

4 comments:

The VelvetHellvis said...

Awwww, Mac. Thanks you for the drunken comment on my sad little blog from July 7th. I've been on vacation and swamped at work. I'll post more soon. Boy, you can write! I wish I could send you good feelings and vibes through the web. Just know your words make a difference and make me think.

sully said...

The City sticker thing sucks- Wow, I didn't realize how much I've missed. I'm at a loss for words but it doesn't sound like you need any of those...

Barb said...

I'm trying to catch up on my blog reading, so I'm pretty clueless as to what's going on. However, once you get the City sticker, you'll be home free. They won't make you pay the $240. Um...but don't quote me on that.

Mac said...

City Stickers are lame! (but pretty pictures). And fingers crossed on the $ forgiveness. There is a Santa Claus, Virginia!
Yes, you 3 need to update a little more.
Sully--I am rarely at a loss for words, and not in a good way; blah blah wordy blah!