Friday, November 14, 2008

Existence Cafe

I didn't know how long I'd been sitting in the club, but I wasn't bothered. A near empty drink in hand; I must've been here for at least half an hour. If this was the first. Bourbon. Probably not the first.

The place wasn't empty, but not packed or lively. The other patrons concerned themselves with their own conversations, and I couldn't see any of their faces in shadow or just darkness.

As I continued to converse with no one and think about nothing in particular, I noticed that my ear had been tugging my attention toward music, a singer on a minimal stage in the corner, the only really lighted spot in the room. She shared the little platform with only a microphone, although the instrumental accompaniment suggested a full band and quite a bit of production, probably a tape behind one of the sequined curtains. The curtains. Hot pink and glittery, the chintzy kind that you would see at strip club or a kids show at an amusement park. The singer's dress glittered in the same way, but in light blue, and she resembled a cheap, worn Marilyn Monroe, like you would see at a strip club or a kids show at an amusement park. She didn't sing like Marilyn, though, she didn't breath the notes with an mock innocent, hyper feminized purr. Her voice was soft but clear and if you paid attention, you could make out the lyrics: stars and molecules and light, kinda sci-fi philosophic type stuff. If you weren't paying attention, you wouldn't notice that the curtains and the dress slowly switched colors, or that the singer's face was out of focus. I started to think about it and, nothing on that damn stage made any sense! Maybe I was really wasted.

I drained the last of my Bourbon, which was more melted ice at this point, and as the not unpleasant burn sifted from my throat into my stomach, I noticed I didn't have a glass in my hand. The singer and the other shadows of the club were gone. I was still sitting at the little black table, but I was in a dessert. Sand and sand and sand. Not even a breeze. It was dead quiet. I looked down at the ratty pile of rags that had been my clothes, mostly on the ground. Most of what had been my skin was gone, a few leathery strips sticking to my bones; and my organs, I bet had those had been eaten. Wait, then what am I thinking with? Shi..!

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