I have ‘Forever Young’ on repeat in the CD player as I contemplate my existence. What is it about me that makes me an enigma to myself? I suspect it’s because I seem to live at a point between denial and reality, just left of responsibility. And I know the lie for what it is. It’s hard to create self-assurance when you can see right through it.

“Lets start in style, lets dance for awhile”

Once again I’m sitting at the cafe where I can usually be found, watching my blue/silver smoke ascending when I see her. No, not the one who destroyed me so easily through malicious intent, but the one I find myself attracted to. I often wonder how much a slave I am to my emotions at times like this. But there she is, all hair and lipstick and black. How could I not be attracted?

“Heaven can wait we’re only watching the skies”

Moira and I ended a few days ago. We had an argument and she stormed out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that upset. I saw her the day after, here, but all we did was glare at each other. I think I’m happy about it. that was a maniacally dysfunctional relationship all things considered. I’m suprised we lasted as long as we did.
I light another cigarette off the remnants of the one I was smoking. Chain smoking is almost a bad sign. Sort of like Windows 3.1 flashing a general protection fault message at you before the screen goes black.

“Hoping for the best but expecting the worst”

Hair and Lipstick and Black has gone inside, I’m somewhat hidden by this disturbing tree that keeps dropping things on me so I don’t think she saw me.
Then Jen walks up. That was sort of a broadside. I’m not sure how I could have missed her seeing as I have a really good view of almost everything. Too much thinking.
For variety I light a clove off the embers of my cigarette. I’m not sure why Jen is over here. We seem to have this pretense of being friends when I think we both know that it’s just a facade because we always hang out at the same places. Considering the way it ended I’m suprised we can even be civil to one another.”
“Hi.” I say.
“Hi yourself.”
“What, exactly, does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but ya know, I saw you sitting over here so I thought I’d come by, say hello, see how things are.”
“Things are surreal. I’m fine. Nothing much ever changes, its life by rote. Just like a traffic light. Why else would I be here?”
Whoa there cynical boy. She hasn’t done anything to you recently.
“Uh-huh, I can see that your just a little anti-social. I’m going to go back to my table, maybe read, wait for the boy.”
She did that just to irk me. She knows I don’t approve of her new boy. Not that it matters, but I happen to think he’s a wank. Always have. I figure it’s all right because I firmly believed it way back when I met him while me and Jen were still together.
“Ok, you do that. I’m going to sit right here. It’ll be fun.”
“Bye”
“Bye”
As she leaves, I remember when I first saw her. She looked so innocent. Somewhere between here and there she became a person with two sides. The ‘were not in public’ side and the ‘I am uber-girl’ side. Neither was really her, or maybe they both were. She was someone completely changed from the Jen I knew, I think she tried to cater to me. I ended up hating her duality, she became one of the plastic masses.
Shortly after I realized what was going on it ended. I caused it to. It’s not good to be dating someone you hate.
I find myself once again running out of something to smoke. I light a cigarette off my dying clove as I begin to wonder how much fun it’s gonna be waking up in the morning. Maybe I should get a less addictive method of stress relief.
Maybe yoga. Maybe not.

“Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?”

Hair and Lipstick and Black is still inside. Maybe she decided to sit inside. Maybe I shouldn’t even worry about it. I really want her to come out. It’s too bad she doesn’t know me. Actually, maybe it’s better.
I guess really I’ve been stalking her. It’s one of the main reasons I come here now. I often sit and stare at her. She never lifts her eyes. It’s always the cobblestones, a book, her drink, her cigarette. She doesn’t look around.
Someone once told me that the people who don’t look around are the people who get you killed. I’m not sure what that means outside of the combat zone. Maybe it means they’re evil. Maybe it means nothing.
This time I burn my fingers with my cigarette. I’m forced to put it out. I pull out another, light it and see Hair and Lipstick and Black out of the corner of my eye.
She’s carrying her drink towards the table near the railing where she always sits. There happens to be someone there today so she sits at the next table over. The table next to me. Her book today is ‘The Nightmare Factory’ by Thomas Ligotti. I didn’t know that any girl actually read Thomas Ligotti (except Poppy Z. Brite but her writing is some of the most god awful trash to hit the printing press so she doesn’t count.) Alison I suspect would, but she can’t seem to find him where she lives.

“The music’s for the sad man”

Alison. Exile in the Pacific Northwest. We had such grandiose plans. She was attracted to my Uber-Gothness. I was attracted to her hand gestures. Of course, it ended. The falling out wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. We still talk. She talks of moving down here in January. I talk of my recurring fantasy of moving to New York. We can still find a middle ground so I guess that’s something. I don’t know where I’ll be living come January so maybe it’s not.

“Can you imagine when this race is won?”

I put out my cigarette. I light another. If I don’t leave soon I’m going to end up speaking to Hair and Lipstick and Black and making a fool of myself. I never see her sitting with anyone. That’s a positive point. Anti-social is good. Maybe I should talk to her. I mean, how many people have I just not talked to because of my anti-social nature? Why do I know so many people anyway?
I tend to suspect my not very anti-social friends.
“Hey Jack,” they say “Come to the party, have a few drinks. It’ll be fun.”
“Yeah, sure.”
So I go the party, I have a few drinks, I get pretentious, I hang out with the cat. And the next few days I have people coming up to me and saying “Hey, you were at SuchandSuch’s party! Remember me?”
Catch-22 for me. If I say yes, they want to talk to me. If I say no or not really or I really wasn’t in a position to after finishing ‘X’ bottles of (Fill in the Drink of the Night here), the introduce themselves and want to talk to me.
This isn’t bad in and of itself, but it usually occurs when all I really want to do is be left alone. and that is bad. Maybe one day I’ll get over it. The downside is that if I was to get over it I would probably lose the title of Hardcore, Superficial, Dark and Brooding Gothboy that those same not very anti-social friends gave me. I kind of like it.

“Turn around our faces lifting to the sun”

Another cigarette. If I get really lucky I’ll have lung cancer by the time I’m 25 and all this will be irrelevant. Of course, that would be a bit too convient so I know it won’t happen.
Jen’s boy finally showed. They’re wandering off, holding hands.
-Sigh-
My watch (I have a group of acquaintances who call it the Reality Meter. I kind of like that but well, they also happen to be little lost Mansonities who should be destroyed.) tells me it’s 23:12. They’ll be closing soon. That’s not a bad thing. I could use some more cigarettes.
I think I’ll get some cigarettes anyway. I get up, go to the store, get me some Chesterfields, start to make my way back.
Hair and Lipstick and Black is walking towards me. I decide that I’m not going to speak to her. I’ll just continue to stalk her. Her beauty frightens me.
“Have you read any thing else by Ligotti?” I ask as she comes near. Damn that emotional side.
“What?” she says as she looks up. Her eyes are green, the right side of her face illuminated by a streetlight. The left side in darkness. Beautiful in the halflight.
“Back at the cafe I noticed you were reading Ligotti. It’s kind of rare to find someone who’s heard of him much less reading him. I was wondering if you’ve read any of his other works.” I’m feeling dumb. I’m convinced she’s going to start laughing. She’s just staring at me.
“No, this is my first. I’m moving to Boston tomorrow and the person I’ll be living with recommended it.”
“Ah,” I say, hoping I don’t sound too crestfallen. “They’re worth it if you can find them.”
“Thank you.” she says as she smiles and walks off behind me. I stand there for awhile.

“Some are a melody and some are the beat”

I walk up the steps of the cafe and find Tammi and John.
“May I?” I ask
“Sure.” John says. I actually like Tammi and John. They continue talking about something or other. I contemplate my existence.
I guess I shouldn’t have spoken to her.

“Sooner or later they all will be gone. Why don’t they stay young?”