Beach Time
So, the Zombie Walk is Saturday night. This week’s been about exploding buses, the right to vote, negligence, and quite literally drowning my sorrows away with ridiculous amounts of alcohol. I’m young and I can take advantage of my somewhat-fast metabolism but after a couple of weeks of doing this crap non-stop I’ve been met with the question of “what’s the point, really?” I mean, I like getting hammered, I like alcohol and its highly curative and promiscous powers but I can’t help but feel a little bit dumb and silly after a while. The last time I was in a so-called “relationship” (pre-gray area era) I remember that when we broke up I was devastated… so what do I do, besides write and publish a book about it? I sank into a downward spiral of debauchery which I haven’t been able to quite realize how it’s never what I really wanted until a couple of weeks ago. I’d go to a club with my guys every day from Tuesday to Saturday, and Sunday mornings would be for the beach. I’d promote the book during the day and party at night for no reason whatsoever besides taking my mind off of which what was afflicting me so much. I thought I was getting drunk to forget but all I was really doing was get drunk to take my mind off of it. Kind of doing that now: there’s just so much fucked up trash happening in the country lately and to top it off I’ve created a whole bit of drama for myself, all of the pieces involved being no drama at all. Quite funny really, how things work out. I wish it was all over. I wish I could snap my fingers and fast forward to the part where I’m at the other end of the tunnel and I can stop drinking to make the wait a little more bearable. The mere thought of me realizing that I’m “waiting” makes me want to get a beer right now, as a matter of fact. Why? Because it makes me feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. Things have a funny way of unravelling themselves, though: I ran out of minutes so I can’t call anyone… not until November 4th. This makes me even harder to reach and prevents me from calling people that I feel they don’t want to talk to me for God-knows-what reason… It lessens the heartache. Suddenly, I feel a little more free to roam about. Yesterday was rather odd for a variety of reasons that I won’t discuss here (I seem to find oditty every day…) But I woke up today at 6AM in a hotel room with a splitting headache, thinking about how ridiculous I felt (aside from hung over) while I had trouble finding my shoes. Last night was rather fun, but this morning I wondered what the point was of me trying so hard to end up where I did. I just didn’t see a point aside from having a good time… which, up until that point of my pondering I had no quarrel with. Problem was that then I asked myself “why.”
For someone who doesn’t think about what he does most of the time, I sure as hell think too much.
I think I would’ve rather gone home and slept than feel ridiculous when I woke up at 6AM. I was practically ushered out of the room and I zombied my way to the car and drove home in the most basic and binary way… got home, drank load of water and went to sleep… then, I dreamed. I dreamed I was at the beach of my dreams; it’s a place I visit every now and then, apparently out of sheer desperation to get away from everything… I have somewhat of a geography of my dreamworld that I could map out if I gave myself the time to do it (you’ll find out about it someday when I finally publish that story) but that’s beside the point: I was at my beach, crystal blue and calm… the sand was white and warm… the sun hung up high above me on a clear blue sky… the beach was calling me.
Tomorrow I’m going to pick up some royalty money from the book (still getting some dough over the book, miraculously), and I’ll use it to put some gas in the car. I will go online and visit this place, pick out a beach… and I will go to it. I don’t think I’ll tell anyone about it other than the people who read this, and by the time you read it then it will probably be too late. I need a one-on-one with the one girl on Earth that will never lie to me, play me for a fool and no matter how much I neglect her, when I go to her she’ll take me in with loving arms. There are no problems, there’s no drama. It’s basic… it’s what love should be. Simple, without fear, without self-imposed limitations or over-pondering. No matter how bad things get, all I have to do is think about how bad I want to get out and regroup, put things aside and have a genuinely pure good time with someone who loves you unconditionally. I’m gonna go to the beach; in fact, I know which one I’m going to now and I won’t say where because that beach is all mine. I will go to her, will get naked, and will go to her. She will hug me and keep me there for as long as I want. She sees who I am and what I do and she rewards me for it by simply letting me be with her. No ex-boyfriends, no drunken binges, no more feeling neglected, no more feeling like everything I do hurts people I care about, no more feeling like I’m a ninja dressed in black, in the middle of a desert at noon… no more feeling like I’m a sitting duck, vulnerable and scared. With her, being vulnerable is O.K. It’s fine. There’s not a thing in the world I cannot tell her. She’s my best friend; she knows all of my secrets, the ones I’m too scared to talk about with anyone else. All she’ll do is hold me and kiss me while I unload my soul. It’s battered, it’s scared and there’s no other place where I can find real comfort that’s not with her at this point… when I’m with her, I’m at my most selfish while being my most selfless. It’s much, MUCH more powerful than any feeling I’ve ever known. More than this. More than everything. In fact, I think I’ll see if I can camp out there tonight. Good bye.
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