PhilLFM
11-12-2008, 01:35 AM
If the lubricated zombies from the sanctuary could see me now, they would shake their heads in sorrow and have another drink for me. Here I am at the ballet, tears in my red eyes which are magnetically attached to the swan as her body vibrates with pain. The entire theatre is painted with the sadness that pours from her wide eyes. I watch her every week without fail, my eyes fixated on her every movement, to me she is life, to her I am just another ripped seat. After every show i go backstage and tell her how moved i was by her performance, she thanks me then begins talking to somebody else. I want to know her secrets, her flaws, i want to know why she appears to be so sad, i want to know about her life, her ex lovers, her childhood, her plans for the future, the type of life she lives.
I have a good idea, I imagine she lives in a dingy apartment flooded with paintings. She would have several pets and would only eat fruit and vegetables and would only drink the finest of wine. I myself have no apartment and i drink and eat whatever i can get my hands on to survive. To her life is a pleasure, to me life is a hunt, and my rifles out of bullets. Different worlds.
I leave the theatre and walk out into the pouring rain. I take shelter in a doorway in an alleyway behind the theatre and light a cigarette. The doorway offers very little shelter and soon my cigarette is extinguished by the heavy rain fall. I sit there as the rain douses me, swearing, defeated. The girl from the ballet appears with an umbrella and goes towards her car before noticing me.
'Where are you heading?'
'Fremantle'
'Want a lift?'
Here i am sat in the front seat next to the girl of my dreams i cannot believe my luck, I ask her if she minds if i smoke, she says she does and tells me how disgusting she thinks smoking is. She has the radio tuned to classical fm and stares at the road in a melancholy trance like state. We drive for 30minutes with no more conversation for the rest of the journey. She drops me off at the Fremantle Station and waves goodbye. My views have changed, i now think she is a stuck up goody two shoes anti smoking little *****.
I love her.
I have a good idea, I imagine she lives in a dingy apartment flooded with paintings. She would have several pets and would only eat fruit and vegetables and would only drink the finest of wine. I myself have no apartment and i drink and eat whatever i can get my hands on to survive. To her life is a pleasure, to me life is a hunt, and my rifles out of bullets. Different worlds.
I leave the theatre and walk out into the pouring rain. I take shelter in a doorway in an alleyway behind the theatre and light a cigarette. The doorway offers very little shelter and soon my cigarette is extinguished by the heavy rain fall. I sit there as the rain douses me, swearing, defeated. The girl from the ballet appears with an umbrella and goes towards her car before noticing me.
'Where are you heading?'
'Fremantle'
'Want a lift?'
Here i am sat in the front seat next to the girl of my dreams i cannot believe my luck, I ask her if she minds if i smoke, she says she does and tells me how disgusting she thinks smoking is. She has the radio tuned to classical fm and stares at the road in a melancholy trance like state. We drive for 30minutes with no more conversation for the rest of the journey. She drops me off at the Fremantle Station and waves goodbye. My views have changed, i now think she is a stuck up goody two shoes anti smoking little *****.
I love her.