The Necto07:36 May 15 2007
Times Read: 811
I was supposed to meet someone at the club tonight. Right from the start of the planning, it was not good. First, I got a message on Yahoo! from the person saying only, "See you tomorrow night", or something a lot like that. So, without knowing what this person will be wearing or when they will get there, I decided to play it safely and show up around 11:00 PM. So I get there and I wait around to find this person. I see someone that looks a bit like them, but actually looks different from what I've seen in the photos. I later in the evening become convinced that this is likely the person..which is at about 12:20 PM..and I decide to stop them as they walk by. Indeed, it is the person I've been looking for, and they showed up at 9:00 PM. They told me that they had looked for me but had not seen me. I can understand this to a degree since my hair is much shorter than what the person was expecting, then again, if the time had been taken to clear up the details of the meeting beforehand the error might not have been made. They also tell me that they've met quite a few people already that evening while being there, this of course does not surprise me in the least. So, after they move me over to introduce me to their friends, I went ahead and asked them to come with me up to the observatory area overlooking the dance floor. Immediately, I notice that the person seems uncomfortable being in a one on one setting. I have no idea if it was me, just a discomfort in general, or whether they were actually distracted by some drunk friend, but I proceeded despite that to attempt small talk. The most interest they showed the entire time was asking to see the tattoo on my forearm, which I quickly displayed. There is something slightly bothering me amidst all of this though I'll confess. While I was unsure if this was indeed the person I was looking for, I happened to notice them dancing. Not just dancing though, but grinding with some shirtless guy that looked he walked out of an Eminem video. That image kept popping into my head, them sliding their bodies together like..well, like drunk teenagers. I shook my head thinking about it and about the fact that my hopes were so high from meeting this person, and now they seemed entirely preoccupied with their friends and with dancing. I suppose I was foolish to think that this person might actually spend any degree of time chatting with me knowing that they were going to bring friends to begin with. So eventually at this point they finally asked, "You wanna go back downstairs?"..to which I said, "Why" and they retorted with the ever reliable , "..why not?". This is when they made another remark about how their friend was "fucked up" and needed to be looked after. I can see that I suppose, but it did strike me as odd that she was the designated babysitter amongst the three to four other people she had come with that were sitting with her when she arrived. The message I got through all of this, whether it was true or not, was that she simply had no real interest in meeting or interacting with me. They the proceeded to move to the dance the pole stage on the dance floor and continue dancing there. Meanwhile, I simply let my mind drift off to the projector screens on the walls upon which I could old government atomic bomb reels being run to the background of hard-mixed Industrial. Eventually I decide to look up again and see what they are doing. I noticed that her friend had left her on the pole stage alone but that in her place was the Eminem guy, and indeed, they were sliding and grinding again..and this time they had a pole to buck with. I looked up to the projection screen again, moved closer to it, and let myself become absorbed in the imagery. Past the smoke and laser light I could see buildings burning and being blown apart. I saw them placing the dummies in the test houses which the workers happily constructed and I found myself terribly amused by all of this. However, I was still upset about the way the evening had turned out..and that's when it struck me. Suddenly, a familiar feeling of what can only be described a neglectful rejection washed over me, and it was then that I drifted away from the bar where the screen was decided to walk around a bit. After a few minutes of this I decided to leave and proceeded to find her so that I could tell her this. I tapped her on the shoulder and said, "I'm gonna take off now". She could not have sounded less concerned in her response, "..oh, you leaving already..". I walked briskly downstairs popping open the glass exit doors so firmly that I nearly hit one of the bouncers coming out. Moving down the sidewalk something started to bear down on me with full force..the same phrase kept hitting me over and over again like a hammer in my chest, "..we are not the same kind". These were not words anyone had said to me, but rather a thought that I was simply expressing to the night..almost as if someone but me would actually hear it. I pictured myself saying those words to them repeatedly, and each time they sounded more true and rattled my perceptions a little more. It felt like being on a mild hit of acid, so dizzied and disillusioned, I might as well have been floating in space. The difference was that I was trapped here..and I knew it. My flesh is so unique, as is my mind, but the implications of this thought..which I was numb to for so long..for whatever reason assaulted my senses now. All those alienated thoughts that had been quieted by all the drugs were waking up to claw at my brain. In the center of all this I felt a presence, indeed, something that I seemed to have left behind. I called out to it, begged it to justify me or to comfort me. There was no answer. I sat in the middle of street for a little while and just listening to wind moves through the trees. There is a music that only those of the Blood can hear in the wind at night, it is a music that lives, moves, and changes the both the landscapes of our minds and of the earth. I would love to find someone else that could hear the music, or even make it so that they could hear it, but I haven't yet been so fortunate. I don't know if this person can hear the music, and I don't know if they were just distracted or perhaps if they really just decided that they didn't mesh with me. The only thing I know is that as I type this right now I feel alone and unable to set myself free from this damned hole. I had really high hopes for this meeting, but I guess I need to learn to keep my feet on the ground. I'm not sure that I'll ever find someone like me, but if you are reading this, and you think you can hear the music, then don't be don't be a stranger to me. Please, make yourself heard tonight.
COMMENTS
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LAZARUSAD
21:09 Jan 15 2008
Incredible, Just F#$ng incredible... You have brought me into this story... A Master teller for sure... and a Wordsmith.
LAZ