Skip to main content

Back In The Real World- A Journal-Part One

***I had to see, AJ.

Today was amazing. I thought I would find that in the week I took off from everything unless I wanted to do it. And during that time, wonderful things did happen. But nothing compared to today.
It started out simple enough. I still haven't any children here, so I sleep in until the last possible moment. Then I sit at the keyboard and decide I can squeeze in a few minutes of writing. This ends with me rushing around, spending too long finding my missing door key, leaving me pissy and almost late. But it is cold and I get to wear my brown shirt. I am, after all, serious about getting back into the Real World.
I catch my bus and I am downtown before I know it. I stop at my coffee shop and I leave a bigger tip than usual. The woman behind the counter screws up my coffee, but she is doing her best to be pleasant on this Monday morning after a long weekend.
I have never bought a stamp in downtown London before and I do not recommend doing it. I have to go to four stores, two with long line-ups filled with Mary-Kate and Ashley stuff. This journey back in the Real World is starting to suck, I am thinking to myself.
Finally, I get to where I need to be.
And I was productive when I needed to be.
Then I left.
I decide to walk up a few bus stops since I have no set time to be home. I meet up with Andrew. He is in a pretty good mood, considering what he has been through lately. He offers me a coffee and I think it would indeed be nice to catch up. We drink coffee and go to a music store, checking out custom posters for Matchbox 20 and record albums. We laugh at all the geeky music. We have a nice time.
On the way home, the bus is jammed-packed. I have to stand and I am not so good at the whole balance thing. But it is funny I keep stepping on the man beside me. A bunch of us joke and laugh. It is Monday, remember? And explains this.
I come home to emptiness. Charlie is on Messenger and we talked until he was ready to go out on his experimental date. Charlie let me know I was not retarded tonight. That was nice of him. It is not often he is.
I say to him "Come over after." But I always say this and do not expect him to show.

To Be Continued (I am tired)


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Boxing Day

Countless times, on the weekends when you are here, you leave for me a stream of yellow in the bathtub. Something angled wrong in this 160 year old building. Sometimes you hit the tiles, as you whip your dick to the left to spray. Do you hold a finger over your pisshole? Do you laugh inside your head? I don't want to know. She bathes in there too.  I have been kind even letting you here. It is only because I love your father.    It is May or June, I don't remember. As sickness washes over me and the rest of the planet too, it can be easy to lose track of time. We tend to the plants, stroke their leaves and name them all. We watch the cat grow fatter, as she lolls in the sun on the stolen chair cushion she's dragged to the hard cement balcony floor. I feel like I know Gamer Chad better than myself and she complains about Jordan Peterson. She can't stand his voice.  But I am more tired and angry on weekends. I tell my her so. I tell her my solution. She tells me she...
Post a Comment
Read more

Unending Paper Chase

You check in on me when you get your break for lunchtime now. You never used to. You ask me, "Are you all right?" You breath in and out hard once through your nose, like it is a chore to even ask. It seems to me that for you everything is an obligation, even holding my hand. Everything you do doesn't feel like anything more than surveillance now. I don't want the days to end and it is getting harder to sleep at night. I am starting to feel sick, like I have the flu. I'm always cold. But I haven't eaten much lately. My stomach is filled with acid. I smile at you anyway. I write two letters a day. One to keep you smiling and one that tells of the truth, but they both look the same. You do not know that I form certain words and sentences in a way that triggers me, in a way that reminds me of what is real. It is something that I started doing in grade school for tests, so that I could easily remember the answers, and then later, so my mother would not underst...
3 comments
Read more

reruns all become our history

"You are ignoring my question. Still." She's angry, 45 minutes later. She is always angry after the friends leave. It's the same old shit. He's fucking tired of hearing her voice. That accusatory voice. That shameful voice. The one that demands the answer to a question he's forgot. How did this all start again? Instead, he walks over to the sofa and sits down beside her. He takes her hand in his. He just wants it to end. "They are our friends." She shakes her head no. But she keeps his hand in his. Her phone goes off. It makes its sound. What's the name of that song again? it feeds, it grows
Post a Comment
Read more