Motel Dreams

She wiped the edges of her mouth
The light red lipstick smeared
She smelled like cheap perfume, and menthols
I lifted the blinds, the sun still high
The breeze made the water in the pool ripple
Los Angeles is a jungle
A jungle of man made delusions & manifest destiny
All funneling through The American Dream
Wanna get outta here?
Yeah. . . yeah, maybe, what else is there?
Let's go get more wine
I say, no, lets just stay a while

I took a sip from my glass, and closed my eyes,

The taste of gin took me to your lips when I didn’t want to

And fuck I don’t remember all those nights

All I can recall is yelling, and running in the street, grabbing you, waking up the next morning and doing it all the same the next evening

Nobody else existed in those days

And even so I wish I could forget them

Shit it all spun so quickly and so blissfully

But I’d take it all back in a heartbeat if I could change time

And release those intoxicated desires, yet we just live this life

Where’d you just go?

Nowhere, absolutely nowhere
The ceiling fan drumming resonances of a confused cacophony
And the dripping memories were enough
Just enough to stay a while and think:
Why do we ever have to die

Character Sketch: 17th and Madison (for a class)

It’s a bar. A lounge bar. The hanging lights are always low, and darkened. It has a long bar counter with leather stools. The bar has a glossy finish on it, over hardened wood. A few ashtrays down the bar counter. Behind the bar, and stools there are a few booths up against the wall. A few for only two and a few for groups. There’s always jazz, and blues playing, always at the perfect volume, loud enough to hear it, but not enough to drown out conversation. The bartender always gives you a nod when you're walking in, and knows your regular.

You don’t have to be high class, or low class; you just have to carry yourself with a certain way. There’s always an open seat, and the place is never crowded. Everyone is well dressed because that’s just the norm. It’s a place for artists, writers, poets, filmmakers, and thinkers, businessmen, and the every man Joe, it doesn’t matter who you are or what you believe, as long as you live by the bar’s cadence. It’s a place for gathering, thinking, and taking a few deep breaths.

It’s not on the edge of town, but right in the heart of the city, it’s seen history. Although it’s a sanctuary and a clear space in between chaos, and beauty. It doesn’t attempt or try, it just is, and always has been. It’s the place where Steve McQueen read the first line of Bullitt, where Bukowski sold his first poem, where Dr. Gonzo & Raoul Duke contemplated The American Dream, and where every one goes to -- to escape the daily drumming of reality. 

The Cycle

Another one of my homework assignments. The entire damn thing had to be in 3rd person, which is not my thing whatsoever, although I think I kind of made it work, not much fun though. Anyway, had to be under 700 words again, hence the length. Hopefully some will people to relate to this shit. PEACE 

“It always rains whenever I come over”

“It rains in Seattle, Diana”

“No, I swear to God it always rains whenever I’m here”

“Okay”

He rolled over and pushed his face harder into the pillow. She just laid there on her side looking at him. She couldn’t tell if he had lost all of his interest in her, what exact purpose she served him anymore, but she was feeling used. She was feeling like she was a tool for him, something to bring his creativity out, someone to talk to for a few hours, grab drinks with and that was it. Was there something beyond the obvious, was there ever anything to build to.

“Well, I’m gonna go. . .it’s 12 now, and I have work in a couple hours”

“Alright, hey want to grab a drink when you’re off?”

“I’ll be out with Olivia, but maybe”

“Okay, text me”

She left, and closed the door behind herself. He listened to her footsteps going down the 3 flights and then heard the heavy door shut with a bang. He rolled over and starred at the ceiling. Things are going pretty good he thought. Diana and him were on good terms. She didn’t ask too many questions, things were casual, but not at the same time. He thought about the idea that she was seeing other people, and how he’d kick the son of a bitch’s ass.

--

“I honestly think he’s a fucking idiot sometimes. . .like a big over grown child”

“Olivia . . don’t be so hard on him”

“Why the fuck not girl? He’s worthless, and I don’t care what anyone says, his writing is shit”

“Olivia, some of that stuff is about ME!”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t shit”

“Jeeesus”

“You just like that stuff because it’s about you, and you think it’s cute. If it was anyone else writing it, you wouldn’t fucking care”

“I think you’re wrong”

“I think you’ve been fooled”

“. . .Whatever”

“He is cute. . I’ll give you that, but shit, what the hell you two do beside fuck, drink, and eat out?”

“I don’t KNOW! What else is there to do?”

“Don’t you want commitment? Something more?”

“Yeah I don’t know, yes. .  I guess. .  I just want to know what he wants from me”

“I know what he wants”

“Shit! Okay! I get it . . . well he just texted me . .he’s gonna be here in 10 or so”

“That’s my signal”

“You’re fucking staying Olivia”

---

“HEEEY”

“Heey Connor, how have you been?”

“Oh I’ve been alright, you two look great by the way”

“Thanks”

“Thank you . . . what’d you get up to today, Connor?” Olivia said

“Yeah? .. babe” said Diana

“Oh did some writing, then some studying, got bored and went and bought a new book”

“What’s it called?” Olivia asked

“Women”

“Women?”

“Yeah, it’s about this guy, a writer, he goes out and meets women, interacts and sometimes sleeps with them, then writes about it – seems like a dick, and then a good guy at times, I don’t know, really human I guess. . . pretty bad drinking problem though”

“Who’s the writer?” Olivia asked

“Bukowski”

“Aaah, I’ve seen a lot of him on your shelf” added Diana

Olivia looked at Connor, while he was looking down at his drink, Diana was looking at her phone. Connor looked up and Olivia and his eyes locked, she looked away yet let out a small smirk while pivoting in her seat to grab her drink. Connor kept looking at her, and then felt his arm get grabbed.

“Want to go have a smoke?” asked Diana

“Yeah sure . . .” replied Connor

The two went outside and stood on the sidewalk.

“Can we share, I only want a few drags” said Diana

“Yeah. . . alright”

“Thanks”

“...”

 “Okay, I’m gonna go back inside . . . it’s starting to rain”