Cigar Smoke version 9.8.1 (part 3a)

What keys I wondered? I still didn't quite believe what was happening to be true, but I was starting to become anxious. I could feel my heart a bit more acutely in my chest, my senses heightened, on alert. I had no idea what these keys looked like, where they could be, are they even real keys or is this some Lord of the Rings fantasy bullshit where the key is really symbolic to something else? Hoping they weren't some sort of Tolkien-ish nightmare as symbols have never been a strong skillset for me, I started searching for my old backpack. A voice in the back of my head that I hoped was my own, was warning me things were about to get crazy so it didn't hurt to have a "get the fuck out of Dodge" pack with me at all times. I grabbed the mandatory items such as socks, underwear, shirts, pants and one extra pair of shoes, I headed to the kitchen. Searching drawers, I find a compass, Swiss Army Knife, book of North American maps (pre War of Ages), and a flashlight. I get dressed in layers, and grab the first aid kit and my journal and lastly, my one book I never leave behind, Atlas Shrugged.

I put my earphones in and slip into the night, signs of dawn are slight in the far eastern view, the ocean roars angrily, the cries of grievances held for what we have done, how mankind destroyed earth, everywhere you turn, you see signs of destruction, signs of anger from within the animal kingdom. It almost makes glad we don't share the gift of language with the animals, I don't know if I could bear to hear their stories, their ancestor's history, their pain. I keep walking, the boardwalk missing planks every few yards or so, the salt eating away at the mostly neglected beach and boardwalk.

What could these keys mean? Why 9? Where would they be? How the hell do I find keys when I don't know what keys I am looking for?

All of a sudden, there was a roar, it was far away but travelling fast and fast towards me I might add. The roaring was becoming deafening, and I realized it was the ocean and the wind and that somehow in the last 30 seconds, a serious storm was brewed. There hasn't been a storm like this since the Age of Wars I thought, what the hell caused this one? Before I had time to contemplate the answer, I was being pelted with rain, and then slowly I realized, hail was starting to form, getting larger as the minutes went on. I knew my apartment was too far to get to, I had to find shelter elsewhere. I darted straight to the street to what looked like it was still standing and as luck has it, it looked like it was a pub, best shot of a fun time waiting out the storm. I broke in and shut the door, no signs of liquor but then there was always a closet of the shit hidden away somewhere. Looting through the bar, I notice a floorboard with a small crevice, and pull it, the door loosens and underneath a small cellar.

Taking out my flashlight, I jump down the 3 feet and look around, bottles and bottles of liquor. I can taste the sweet whiskey on my tongue, warm after a cold and dreary day. I grab a bottle and climb back up behind the bar. Grabbing a stool, I take out my notepad and take a sip of Crown Royal. Suddenly behind me I hear a soft whisper, almost a cackle, I turn around and the voice is in front of me, turning forward again, the voice again jumps.

"This isn't funny, just come out, I'll share my whiskey, come on, we can both hide out the storm here." No one answers me.

Maybe I am losing my mind I think, it's been a long day.

"Heh, hiding out from the storm, you think you are safe because you are partially underground?? You have no idea!" The voice cackles in the background, but still I see no one, the voice evading my sight completely.

"Who are you? This isn't funny! Come on out!" I feel my shoulders tense up and I begin to wonder what this is, that this spider has gotten me into.

"Well, well. It seems you do have some brains in y'eh! It seems to be me, you just caught on a wee bit with that last bit about the spider."

'Well yeah but I don't know if ….. waait a minute?! I didn't say that out loud, did I? No, no I KNOW I didn't. What the hell was that??" I stammered and all of a sudden I can hear my heart beating louder than the sound of the storm raging outside the pub.

"Ach, you'll get used to er, this is still new I know. Take a minute and then we'll talk."     

With that, out of the far corner of the pub, appears an old man, dressed in old Londoner garb from the 1940's. A full breasted suit, black with very thing white pinstripes so faint, you barely notice them. He had on a white dress shirt stiff with cornstarch. A sharp purple tie adorned his neck, fitting in nice with the jacket and shirt and finally a black fedora with a matching purple ribbon around the base of the hat. He had the most delicious smelling cigar hanging from his mouth, old spice wafted through the air. This man reminded me of a kindly old school mobster, and yes I do believe mobsters can still be kindly, hell the world as we knew it is gone, so what the hell, I figured why not drop the stereotypes.

The man took the stool beside me, grabbed a scotch glass and filled it one-quarter full.

He spoke, "So you are the keyseeker, never would have imagined the likes of you but you look like you'll learn quickly and that'll do, that'll do."

I shook my head and stuttered, "I'm the, the … keeyseek, uhm the keyseek, eeker"

The old man laughed, "Oh, hah hah hah, yeah oh I do like these virgin questers, hah hah."

"I don't get it. How can I be the keyseeker, what the hell is that? Oh wait, wait!! Is this about those 9 keys? You know what this all about???!!" I shook my head, the fog of surprise lifting; I begin to think that maybe this spider thing has some merit? When did I turn psychic oddball?? Maybe some of that nuclear warfare did get to me?

"Let me go with you, we must leave right away, I can explain the 9 keys on the way." The old man spoke breaking my reverie.

"I uhm but I don't know you, can't we talk about this fir .."

"There is NO time, we must depart now and quickly I might add." The old man interrupted.

Deciding I had no other options, I shoved the glass bottle of that very familiar friend, my dear Crown Royal into my backpack, strapped it on and said "Let's go."

With that, the old man started towards the back of the pub, "There's a backdoor this way, leads to the alley, more sheltered from the storm."

…. To be continued

Cigar Smoke version 9.1 (part 2)

"If you don't listen to the spider, the world, or rather what's left of it is doomed." The old woman said, and then pulled a battered metal cigarette case from her shawl, the silver tarnished from years of use. She pulled out two cigarettes and offered me one. Remembering my smoke free days pre-war, I took the cigarette, pulled out my scuffed Zippo lighter and lit the gypsy's cigarette and mine.

I took a drag and stared the woman in her dark probing eyes.

"So what you are saying is that I need to listen to some hallucination dream of a spider, some dream that somehow was a message. A message I have no idea about. That's what you are saying? Because that to me would lead me to think that you are probably just a bit delusional? You think?"

The woman just smiled eerily towards me and said;

"Mock if you will but if I were you, I'd get my doubting Thomas ass out of my head and figure out that dream you keep talking about, because if you don't the world, as I SAID, is doomed."

The gypsy then turned away and walked off into the smoky distance, leaving scuffled footprints in the street.; the street that was once a famous square that is now sullied with dirt, trash and a layer of grime. The absent society, the lack of street cleaning, the spoilt remainders of human activity show on every street and corner.

I stood there, hands in my pockets, watching the woman become smaller and smaller and finally disappear into the black night. So, somehow the end of the world is upon us and the irony? The fate rests on my shoulders?! For sure God was good and stoned when he rolled those dice this turn around. Ok, so wondering how my half-assed, mediocre effort that I managed before the world lost 4.5 billion people would help me figure this insanity out. Was I actually considering listening to a silent spider hallucination?

I returned to my leaking dungeon I called home and sat on my tan Lazy Boy recliner, looted after the bombing stopped and turned my lone treasure on, a battered iPod, sparingly used as electricity, needed for charging was fickle, very fickle. I closed my eyes and tried to think of what this could mean? Am I losing my mind? I decided to pretend this to be real and at least try, what harm could this do? The whiskey must have soured, maybe because these insane illusions, so alive one moment, gone like a wisp of my cigar smoke the next.

I opened my eyes and realized it was dark out, I must have fallen asleep, I reach over and grab my cigarettes, lighting one I notice a shadow move over in the corner. Squinting to adjust my eyes in the dark, I hear a voice, ever so quiet creep from the back corner of the room.

"You must find all the keys, find them all and the world will not fall to it's knees and beg to be ended, a mercy compared to what it will suffer."

Taking a long drag, my heart racing I edge closer, the chair on two legs, I see nothing! I shake my head, hoping maybe it is just my insomnia catching up.

"I know you think this can't be real, but I am and you must remember to find all the keys, there are 9, you mustn't just stand there, you don't have much time."

"Keys?? What keys? What do you mean? I don't understand." I started rambling, questions and doubts flowing out of my mouth.

"Just remember, trust yourself, only you have the answers. Find the 9 keys, you will know them, you have but days."

And with that the shadows in the back of the room were still, I knew the voice had gone. What do I do, what keys?

….To Be Continued

Speeding

I sit here completely given over to the other side, still awake when most people are fast asleep, comfy in their pairs of twos and within their duvets. I find it odd, that I finally do not know if I can handle the social scene, am I that much of an outcast? Am I really old, New York 40 year old women tell me I am not old, but that they are just the new 20's. Who to believe? Everyone around me? Or my inside gut?

Can this really be it for my young years?? My fantastic 20's over in 3 years?? I imagined when I first turned 18 that I would live for years being able to dance blindly into the morning, arms around my new best friend stepping out into the cold January morning to greet the new year. Now I find I want to hide in perhaps the year 2005 and wait for each new year to come out and greet me instead.

Where do I belong? Does anyone ever really belong?? Is anything ever staid, or is it constantly changing, only visible when we choose to let loose the bandana around the eyes. Whoever thought I would change this much in 1 year, 6 motnhs even. The single events that turn the tide to change.

Sigh, are the 20s the new 40s? Does society put too much pressure to succeed on the younger generations?? Is this why the drug rate is up, and depression is rampant among today's 20 year olds? Could in our 20s, we be too emotionally unprepared to handle success?? Could we be too immature to be happy with what some 40s would die to have??

Were we too spoiled, our lives too normal, too comfortable?? Do we not see what we have is fantastic, that we succeed and receive promotions and benefits so much younger and faster??

Perhaps, humans aren't meant to evolve too quickly. The last 100 years have been like nothing in recorded history. (That I know of at least.) Our learning curve has pretty much been a straight mile-high line in the air. 180 bloody degrees. I mean how old will my iPod be that I just got last month in a few months? So hey, maybe if society slowed down a bit, learned to smell the fucking roses, hey maybe we would all have time to celebrate, contemplate, and feel our happiness.

That’s Just Fabulous

3/24/2006

Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous!

-Carrie Bradshaw in "Sex and the City"

Blank and Random

7/6/2009

I sit here and stare at my forgotten mistress
Those long hours into the dark night,
Words spilled so quickly, passions swirled around in my mind.

And now, oh even as I think of now,
The words slowly slip from my grasp, walking backwards into the tunnel
Oh the tunnel, so long and dark before the light.

I long for the days of passion, of fire
Of ability, of want
The days before apathy and shoulders wore on,
The days before you.

Now even I am missing, wandering the paths we walked
Images and words crushing my soul, one second later
Dreams, the future, everything I knew,
Was wrong.

My mind goes blank once more
Random thoughts, always the same ending
Blank ...

Cigar Smoke version 8.9 (Part I) – Working Title

I sit here staring blankly at the screen, fingers hovering above the keys, I stare so blindly, so numbly at the little white letters, the "R" starting to wear at the top, and I wonder. How did I get here? How did things become so strange? So foreign? Every step an unsure event, carefully planning where next to flee, so you don't become caught unaware. How did it all go so wrong? I look up at the clock, it stares 03:13 back at me, almost threatening me with it taunts of alarm clocks going off in just a few hours. I stub out my cigar and watch as it body crumples under my violence and it reminds me of the night a spider foretold of this all, warned me, only I didn't listen. I thought myself crazy, I mean a spider revelation?? It was only a dream right? A mere waking dream of a crazy insomniac.

It came to me on a winter night, the air frosty, and the wind loud at the windows. I was about to fall asleep when the spider dropped from the ceiling, stared into my eyes, though I got the feeling its gaze went far beyond my eyes. I froze momentarily and then jumped out of bed into the cool, damp air of my dungy basement suite deep in Brooklyn. (Since the War of Ages, there hasn't been much of anything in New York or anywhere on the eastern seafront of North America, or what was formerly known as North America anyhow, I don't think it has much of a name now.) I turn the light on, shake my head and though the spider is gone, there is an energy like I have never felt; it is like a body was beside though no one was. I didn't know what it meant at the time, how could I? I never did quite sleep well that night. The next week, the spider was there, nagging at me, I tried to drown it in a glass of whiskey I looted from an old convenience store; it just seemed to illuminate the memories.

It was a week after the dream when I ran into a rather gypsy looking old woman, she seemed out of the stories of my youth; grey hair wrapped in a dirty blue bandana, eyes watering, voice course with age and trauma no human should ever bare. She was staring at me while I meandered through an old store once known for its famous clientele. She started following me, whispering my name over and over and over again. Startled and suddenly frightened I quickened my pace through the destroyed aisles, trying to distance myself from this seemingly psychic woman. I darted around a corner and ran straight into the woman. Frightened and confused, I faltered and she spoke "You must not ignore the message. You must heed the spider."

I snapped out of shock and managed a weak "What?"

"If you don't listen to the spider ….

 

……. To Be Continued