The bittersweet taste of wine dries my already sore throat. You see… it is hurt from the dozens of cigarettes that I smoked today. And of course, there’s a nosebleed with the rest of the problem wagon, telling me to quit bad habits. I ended up pushing table napkins down the nostrils aggressively, almost with the strength of a mining man trying to escape being buried several feet underground in a shaft.
Yes, these bibs were used as if my life depended on it and I guess my anxiety is to be blamed here. It makes me slightly overreact. But somehow unpolished roughness of my actions suited this run-down pub. What do you think…? Even the person sitting next to me didn’t blink. You’d be surprised what you can see at this rat’s hangout. Speaking of which, the old man is chugging down a second in a row glass of Spiced Morgan’s with rocks to the top. The fellow must have it hard, yet every sip he takes eases the pain away or perhaps just relaxes his face muscles. Numbness feels nice, I understand.
I always see the weirdest bunch in here. I can even put a wager that the interior matches each of our moral compasses. And as you guessed it, this place looks like a horse’s shit. Even more, smells like one.
Just look at what we have at the left corner circle booth. Those two ladies asked for the cheapest Sauvignon Blanc on the menu. Nothing bad with that, we all barely have green in our pockets, but I say choose something real if you’re drinking at this place. Wine is clearly outdated, but it went unnoticed. Rob (manager/owner/bartender and chef) rarely enjoys an occasion of opening a new bottle and the last time I checked – only a single one has been opened for a couple of weeks now. Minus the pretentious hags, others just admit reality and live peacefully with their stench: drinking all sorts of nonsense without even taking the flies out.
This all-encompassing blob of a phase leaves me lurking, talking to you. But a couple of Tullamore’s and I will shut you up for today. Sorry, you are a bit annoying sometimes. I really just enjoy being numb to people, to the breath-taking and sometimes ugly surroundings and noises that are passing me by in the slowed and more often forwarded motion.
Is that guy next to me choking or coughing? How funny… No one even lifted their heads, except Robert, but he looks kind of pissed. I hope this guy is not planning to die here. I don’t know what the old guy could do to a dead person, but I believe he could come up with something. creative. Like a little haunt for the rest of his life on the other side?
Haha – Came out loudly.
But as I thought, not a single glance towards me.
I wonder if a lack of sensation is a twisted outcome of growing-up? Throw a kid or two in this place and we would get totally different reaction to the freak show.
Oh, what the hell… This nose of mine started bleeding again and now it feels like my chest is carrying a weight of a grown-up man. The one who goes to a gym every other day and lifts loads, chugs down protein shakes and rounds it up with a t-shirt free selfie.
Am I a mad woman? Feverish, yet empty. A collection of clashes. I stopped for a second whatever I was doing. To take a breath and light up another cigarette… To find myself almost throwing up. I was far overdoing my limits, overdosing my capacities. This empathy was somewhat pleasing and I guess that kind of saddened me for a second.
Oh, here it is. An emotion and it is usually followed up with a shutdown.
I guess I’m/you’re drowning. Please, just have a single breath left somewhere in you/me. I/you will need it to find my way back home. Before you/I go, check the face. Does our grin look at ease?