Dust Jacket

[dexfarkin]

They always have something to say, I've noticed. It happens after the first drink, when the mellow entrails of the night have just enfolded you and things can pass affiably. They come, with their stories of personal relevence and emotional heart ache; between self-aggrandizing anecdotes and the wisdom of a dozen drinks over a dozen years. The petrified knowledge of the bar, harder than teak and laid in geometric precision across your evening.

The first shot of bourbon comes from the bottle in the corner, dusty and forgotten. Only the random swipes of errent fingers shows a cheaply printed label; it reads as Kentucky No.1 or Confederate Pride or any other company that lasted just long enough to ship a cheap gutrot product for a few months before returning to a still in back of the Ford on blocks. There's a sprinkling of crystals around the room, good solid sugers of the liquor, making the lid crackling as it's twisted.

The bartender doesn't love you. She looks at her magazine and wonders when you'll be leaving. With her blonde hair twisted up as andogynously short as she can make it, wondering if the Saturday fight will have a sequel, and this time she's the one being threatened with the glass in the face. There's solace and desperation in the regulars, as she draws them around you like a cloak.

The TV doesn't work and the kitchen has closed down. Your book is no longer a shield, and your friendships no longer a comfortable; they become a conduit. A platform for their suffering, and you wonder, behind the pages, if this is your creation. The dust jacket tells you the author is sixty, and you envy his dedicated obsession with life.

Comments

[ferox.livejournal.com]

Yours?

[dexfarkin.livejournal.com]

My what?

[ferox.livejournal.com]

The writing, hon.

[dexfarkin.livejournal.com]

Yes, of course my writing. I pretty much always attribute another writer if I use one.

[ferox.livejournal.com]

Shush, there was a painful insult if it was someone else involved. That is, I like when you just. Write, without ties or some greater scheme. I like when you have a place to get to, but it's of your own design and time making.

One of your best.

[dumbphilomel.livejournal.com]

Very nice, and based on personal experience, I know :-). Also, I know you've had a difficult week, so I hope things improve.