“All you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be” - Pink Floyd
Like a stray bit of star or an insignificant giant planet caught in a black hole's event horizon, it gets closer and closer, but never seems to happen. If you've seen my diaries before, you know how this is going to end...
Friday night was enjoyable, but for the most part uneventful. I typed a screed about the RIAA and how it is blatantly breaking the No Electronic Theft Act and possibly the Digital Millennium Copyright Act by downloading thousands of suspected songs of its members. I submitted it for editing, and walked on down to Dempsey’s.
I was early, and the band was late.
Dempsey's is more and more becoming a haven for musicians and other artsy types; not just to play in, but to drink in as well. Joe Frew was there, and Levi, and a couple of fellows from The Station. The women there Friday were all with men, mostly with friends of mine.
The other Joe, one of the owners, was tending bar. Joe Frew, who does booking for Dempsey's, was annoyed, as the guy he booked never showed up. We drank, and talked, and played video games.
I've always been a retard at remembering peoples' names, especially when I meet a few at once. They all know my name and I know their faces, but damned if I can remember any names.
I've always been bad at remembering names. My weird brain lets me down. If I read it in a book, it stays in my head seemingly forever, no matter how unimportant and trivial. But if I hear it as speech it drains away from my neurons very quickly. My visual cortex must be overdeveloped at the expense of my audio cortex, I guess.
One girl was scribbling on the Illinois Times. I could tell by the way she held her pen she was an artsy type, nobody holds a pen like that without training. It's hard to meet a chick like that without thinking of the Dead Milkmen's Instant Club Hit (“You'll dance to anything....”)
Joe said some friends were going to come by later and he'd see if he could get them to play.
Sure enough, they showed up around 11:30, and sure enough, he talked them into it. They didn't even charge him for the gig!
Several beers, laughs, and tunes later it was closing time, and I walked home. I logged on to K5, put the story to a vote, and went to bed.
I'd been tired all week. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the getting off of the Paxil, maybe I haven't been sleeping well, but when I woke up it was 5:00 PM. I don't believe I ever slept so late in my life.
I checked my mail, looking for the “your story was rejected” email, but it wasn't there. There had been half a dozen stories in the edit and voting ques, but now there was only one. Scoop must have been hungry, I guess.
My daughter asked if she could spend the night at her friend's, and I said OK. I used to relish the thought of her spending the night with friends, as if I met a woman I could take her home, but I've pretty much given up on that ever happening.
I fiddled around on K5 for a while, and noticed it was dark outside. I logged off, took a shower, and started walking downtown.
There was supposed to be a band from Indianapolis at Dempsey’s. One of Joe's friends, a Jewish looking fellow, had laughed Friday about ripping them off; he was renting his mixer equipment to them for half their pay. The fucker. If he has a girlfriend I'm going to try to seduce her. Ripping off the poor, that's just damned evil.
As I was walking down the street to Dempsey's, I saw three women walking in. Two slim brunettes and a fat blonde. Well, this looked promising, at least there would be nice scenery. The band was running late, it was after 10:00, but they were just lugging in equipment. They said “hi” as I walked in, so I chatted a bit.
“All the way from Indy, I hear?”
“Yeah, damn it's a long drive, 3 hours.”
Wow, they must have flown down the highway. Indianapolis should take more than three hours.
The question I always half-jokingly ask, “So, are you guys any good?”
They laughed. “Hope so!” one said.
The only one in the bar I recognized was Mandy, tending it. Mandy's a farmer's daughter, and although she's not bad looking, and has a really nice body, she always has a serious look on her face. Workaholic type, hates it when it's slow. Her look tonight was downright annoyed.
I hadn't seen her in several weeks. I got a beer and asked her what was wrong.
“Fucking weirdos tonight, nothing but freaks. They're pissing me off!”
The place wasn't all that busy, but she did have a few clients. She went off to fill someone's drink.
The three girls who had walked in a block's length ahead of me were laughing. There was the fat blonde, who would have been a knockout if she'd lose half her body mass or more. One of the brunettes had a nice body, and a face halfway between beautiful and homely. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong with her looks; perhaps the half Paxil I'd taken was affecting my vision. It does that at times. It had earlier, as I was walking; colors were brighter than normal, the darkness wasn’t so dark, and things looked a bit unreal.
The third woman would have been extremely good looking, except for one blemish that stood out like someone had vandalized a Van Gogh with a magic marker - she had a pierced lip. And she seemed very intoxicated.
But of course she was intoxicated. “Wish me a happy birthday!” she said to nobody in particular.
“Happy birthday,” I exclaimed loudly. She had cash in her hand. “Hey” I said, “it's your birthday, you get to drink for free!”
“Oh wow, I forgot, thank you!”
Before I could move over with them, some Latin Romeo moved in first. Damn!
I meant that literally. The fellow was Hispanic, and he claimed his name was Romeo. This seemed to tickle the girls.
But they got tired of him quickly, it seemed. I suspected he was broke.
Birthday girl slithered over and put her arm around my neck, and thanked me again. “Dance with me?” she asked.
I don't dance, but how could I refuse? My dick was getting hard...
The band was still setting up, but the jukebox was playing. I danced with her.
“You dance funny,” she said.
“That's because I don't know how to dance,” I admitted.
She seemed to like that, and did an impromptu pelvic bump and grind. I don't think I've ever been so horny.
Somehow we wound back over by her friends, who seemed a bit left out. By now I would have even done the blonde, and fat girls are a turnoff for me.
Birthday Girl had a small tattoo on her right shoulder. It was too close for my old farsighted eyes to read.
Thoroughly enchanted, I offered to buy the three of them a drink. Romeo said, “buy me one too?”
I grinned. “You're the wrong gender!”
The girls laughed.
Birthday girl wanted to drink a tequila with me, and I told her sure, so long as they had salt and lime. I bought two tequilas, and blow jobs for Birthday Girl's friends.
Somehow Romeo got between me and Birthday Girl. Somehow, the enchantress made him disappear.
The four of us toasted Birthday Girl, and she wound up in my lap making out with me. I couldn't believe it! After a year, here was a woman half my age in my lap, her hands all over me and mine all over her.
“I want to take you home,” I said.
And then it was over. Her friends got her off of me and toward the door. “Wait!!” I protested, “the music hasn't even started yet!”
“Give me your number!” she said.
I wrote it down, and made a point to make sure her friends heard me tell her to share my number with them.
The chick was so loaded I doubt she'll even remember me. They walked out the door and left me with a hard on.
I got another beer and finished half of it with a single swallow. So close, so close...
But I had felt a woman's body next to mine. Better than nothing!
I asked one of the guys from the band if they had a CD. Not only do I like collecting indie CDs, I felt bad for these guys. After gas and paying Joe's ripoff friend half their gig money for renting his box, they were playing for maybe minimum wage if they were lucky.
“Uh, yeah, we have a pretty old one. I think we have maybe two out in the truck. Four bucks.”
I put four dollar bills on the counter and he went to get the CD. He almost forgot to take the money.
I talked with Joe's ripoff friend for a bit, and went back around the bar to talk with Mandy.
Mandy hadn't liked the birthday girl. This puzzles me, she couldn't have been jealous. I'd run across Mandy in another bar as a patron and tried unsuccessfully to hit on her.
Can one of you K5 ladies explain this to me?
The band started playing, finally. Some people started coming in. Women. Lots of women. Another birthday party for another birthday girl.
I didn't meet this one.
As Mandy was serving someone, two women sidled up next to me holding cash, a tall blonde and a short brunette wearing a long sleeve shirt and a pair of short shorts that revealed a beautiful pair of legs.
I got a case of asperger's and didn't know what to say. I drummed my fingers on the bar in time to the music. The young lady did, too. Still I sat there stupidly. They got their drinks and moved over to a table.
I mentally kicked myself in the ass for being such an ass burger nerd geek dork wanker. Damn! I wish I knew how to pick up women. I could have had that one, if only I knew how. Damn damn damn damn damn! And shit!
“See that girl over by the videogame, the one with the short brown hair?” Mandy asked.
“She's a bitch!”
Mandy wasn't having a very good night. Seems the woman had bitched at her because a Dempsey's blow job wasn't the blow job she had expected.
A lot of the women there who should have been having a good time were frowning. They were the ones with men on their arms.
I doubt I'll ever understand women. Except in this case, I suspect that the Pietasters had the right answer: “Zantac. Because life's too fucking short!”
Well, at least I had a good time. So close, so close...