I just had a phenomenal week. It’s funny how small life decisions can make such a big impact on my overall state of happiness. Nothing major happened last week, I didn’t make money or do anything that I felt was groundbreaking, but I did make some small changes to my current path which feel correct.
The previous week I wrote that I was going to take a break from writing — not forever, years, or anything like that, but some indefinite short period. I know all too well how that turns out by now, and fortunately a day after writing that I came back to my senses.
Time chugs along, and whether my net worth is 10X or if I go broke, I have this realistic goal of publishing my writing. I realized that outside of this blog I haven’t published anything, and it seems less real to me until I do. This week I’m going to pick one of my previous short stories, polish it up, send it to an editor, get a cover designed, and publish it on Amazon as soon as possible. Pretty simple plan, and I’m sure the editing/cover design/publishing process, which is new to me, will take a little time, but then I’ll know it. The next time will be that much easier, and eventually I can get a system going.
My favorite part of blogging is the fact that I put something out in the world. Sometimes I feel like it’s good, sometimes it sucks, and often it’s just ‘meh’. I now want to publish short stories on Amazon (hopefully getting rid of the “sucks” category at the very least), and eventually novels. Getting used to the publishing process, feeling like there is a reward for my work, and getting feedback.
I started several good books this week, including one that inspired me to re-up on my creative writing “Real Artists Don’t Starve” . One of the big things he emphasizes to get better he calls “practicing in public”. It’s pretty much what it sounds like: for me regularly writing and putting my work out in public. On that end I’m going to try to write a new very short story for most of my blogs. Most of my shorts are around 5,000 words, but I want to do more ‘flash fiction’ stories that are 1500 words or less for the blog.
The other book that I started and am really enjoying is about spirituality, called “Anam Cara“. I would never have thought to pick this up, but a friend tipped me to a podcast with the author on the podcast ‘On Being’. It’s hard for me to describe other than I would say it’s a poetic look at life and spirituality. I’d recommend the podcast, and if you like that definitely pick up the book.
Also I’m late to this (now in the second season), but I saw the first season of “Westworld” on HBO and it was great!
With that update I’m presenting my story of the week (fictional and NSFW fyi), along with a hiking picture from here in Puerto Rico:
There comes a point in the night when the club stops caring if the music is good, the customers stop caring, and even the DJ stops caring. I can’t pinpoint the hour, but I know the signs. Alcohol no longer gives you a buzz, even as you fight on drinking heavier and faster. Vodka and soda turns into shots of knock-off Patron that burn like hot sauce down your throat. Amateurs like myself continue to chase that buzz to alleviate the boredom, while the true pros switch over to harder drugs.
It’s 2:30 in the morning, and the upstanding citizens of the world went home hours ago. It’s for the better though, as they are looking for relationships, stability, and some sense of decency from their potential partners. Now, surrounded only by the degenerates and dregs of upper society, I can be open without worry of being judged.
“Oh my god, it’s the Cristal Guy,” a girl says to me as she brushes against my side at the bar.
I look around curious to see who she is referring to, but see no one else near us. Smooth tan skin, long black hair, an athletic build — these type of healthy vibrant women don’t exist at this type of place. This is the kind of girl you show off as your girlfriend, not your typical club rat that I’d happily settle with at this hour.
“Aren’t you going to say hi to me at least?” she says. She sticks out her lip pouting a bit before grabbing the bar rail to keep her balance.
She’s drunk I now realize, but who isn’t? I clear my head for a moment comprehending that she means me, and am happy to play along.
“Hey how have you been?” I say exaggerated.
I’ve never seen this girl before, although I give her a hug like its been too long. I look into her eyes and she seems delighted that I remember her. The Cristal Guy nickname is something that strokes my ego too, even though a bottle of Dom would max out my credit card right now, let alone Cristal. I was once given a bottle as a gift, but it was stolen, and I still was barely getting over that. I’ve done nothing to earn such a great nickname, but someday I hope to change that.
“I’m getting kind of bored,” she says. “You have your fancy Cristal tastes, you have any idea of where we should go to next?”
Perhaps God decided to reward me for wasting my youth and paychecks at nightclubs. A good friend of mine who sold enough life insurance to pay for a six-figure a year club habit bestowed one of the most important life lessons that I’ve received; when you’re at a club past midnight always go for the immediate close. You’re probably going to strike out anyways, so just go for it.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say.
She hesitates for a few moments, looks into my trusting eyes. “Ok, but where are we going to go?”
“My place. They are about to close down here in a little bit.” As if that is a valid reason, and I start to think maybe I should have played this one slower. I put on a confident smile, no turning back now.
I can’t believe my good fortune, and we slither out into the bracing chill of a Chicago early morning. I only live a few blocks from this club, but it’s still a heroic journey. The gusts of arctic wind batter us and begin to sober us up. By the time we make it into my apartment I know I have to operate quickly. As the booze wears off it turns into exhaustion, and the ability to make rational decisions, neither of which I wanted right now.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she says as I try to lead her to my bedroom. I oblige.
I undress down into my underwear, and slip into my bed waiting for her. No need to beat around the bush at this point. I’m still blown away at the quality of this girl. A beautiful, sweet, good-girl getting caught up with a monster like me. Hell, maybe I’ll reform for this one.
Time continues to pass. I’m getting tired now as the rush of mating is starting to subside laying in a dark room lit only by my Ikea lamp. She might have passed out, so I go walk towards the bathroom.
“Are you ok?” I ask behind the closed door.
“Yes, just another minute.” That definitely isn’t the voice of someone passed out at least.
I go back to the bed, and wait. I hope she isn’t having some type of stomach issues. Probably best to ignore those type of thoughts for now.
Finally she comes out. She’s fully clothed, but seeing me in bed shirtless, she strips down to a bra and panties. It was all worth it now, the whole evening, the whole last month that I wasted going out with nothing to show for it.
She gets onto the bed next to me, looking innocently into my eyes again. I grab her to pull her in for a kiss, which she allows after some hesitation.
I try to be enthusiastic and passionate, but she is very reserved. She’s kissing back, but it feels forced, somewhat robotic. Finally she pulls back to interrupt.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go to the bathroom again.”
I nod, confused, but not much I can do. Fifteen minutes goes by, but I still keep my enthusiasm up. This cycle repeats itself again, and after a few lame kisses she goes back to the bathroom.
Exhaustion is hitting as well as suspicion. I’m not even interested in sex now, I just want to solve the mystery as to what she is doing in there. It’s not far from my room, and I don’t hear or smell anything exiting her bowels. Is she texting her fiancé, just playing on her phone on the verge of passing out, or what? Finally it hits me. It probably wouldn’t have taken Sherlock Holmes an hour to figure out this girl was using my bathroom as her personal cocaine stall. Like I said though, I’m still an amateur, and amongst my degenerate friends I can be naive.
I go back to the door for what will now be the final time tonight and knock, annoyed and ready to blow up my action. “I want to go to bed, I can call a taxi for you.”
“Just another minute please.”
I put on the lights, and sit on my bed. I would love to just pass out, but I can’t exactly trust this angel alone in my house now that I’ve discovered she’s more interested in shoveling down coke rather than spending time with me.
Another five minutes pass, and she comes out. She is rubbing his nose vigorously, and in the light I can see the residue on her nose. Probably was there the whole time, but I was too enchanted.
“Do I really have to go?”
As much as I want to delude myself and continue this charade out of curiosity, I am able to exercise some realistic judgement now that the booze is out of my system. “Yes I’m exhausted, lets get you out of here.”
She droops her head and sticks out that pouty lip again. “Ok I understand.” She’s caught and she knows it.
Her brightens up a little bit as I lead her down to the elevator downstairs and outside to the street corner. “Thanks for hanging out again, and I never thanked you for your party before.”
I raise an eyebrow as I have my hand out hoping for a taxi to materialize. I don’t throw parties, my place isn’t that nice.
“It was about a year ago, you had some people over late night,” she says sensing my lack of memory.
It hits me that a friend did bring five or so people over after a club closed, but that night I did just pass out as I trusted him to take care of my place. That was also the night that —
“Sorry about the Cristal, my friend and I were really drunk and when we found it in the fridge we decided to split it,” she says. She is giggling now at the memory. “I don’t even think we could taste it, it was pretty much wasted, but I still appreciate it anyways.”
I stood very confused, putting this all together, as a taxi pulled up. She gave me a peck on the cheek as I slowly lowered my taxi hailing arm.
I gave the taxi driver $10 feeling like I just paid for someone to rob me twice. First time my Cristal, the second time my life energy. She waved goodbye, and was gone from my life forever.
There was one consolation though: even in my current broke and destitute state, I actually did deserve that nickname now after hearing the story. I really was the Cristal Guy. This gives me a chuckle, and perhaps the night was worth it after all.