The Gothic Poet,Chapter One

Chapter One
Looking down at this bar with it’s variously brown stained boards beneath it’s glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a wave out of this place.
This place full of people with their devil horned hand gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and deception.
The real deception is that there’s life in this bar where I find myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily ease the brain.
But just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we unidentifiably call art.

Theodore why are you sitting here I think to myself as I light a cigarette and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me for a brief second from the anger and desperation.
Theodore Francis Boone why am I called this,what  could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop your ripped fake leather barstool .
I clicked the bar three times with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly want.
She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited for an outdoor venue.
Great show she said my name is Tabby can I by you a drink?Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my fingernail took the last suck on it and then gave her a quick look and said thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.
I turned my head back around to her and said I’ll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on a fresh coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?
I don’t know I added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the draft she had bought me.
As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the picture that I didn’t need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.
But just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on it.
As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.
She took the torn paper with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder smiled and made my way out of there.
As the door closed and I was now on the outside the ringing in my ears became apparent while  making my way down the street in an almost silent pace.
This was always my favorite part of any day,the quiet
of the night walking with little distraction.
The city seemed so much more beautiful when it wasn’t full of people aimlessly wandering around it.
Sure there was the occasional drunk or druggie but they didn’t bother me and I didn’t bother them most of the time,it was sort of a mutual respect at that hour of the night.
Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers were most displeasing .
The bosses the politicians all those daytime degenerates those were the ones to worry about.
The bankers and the likes.
Those that think they got it ,that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem way to persistent n getting me involved in uncreative tasks.
None of them were out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.


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