Chapter Fifteen

She looked at other girls, and thought only of disdain. The evening weather was slightly cool, yet warm enough to play game of pool by the swimming pool. Yet she was not one pool playing. At least not in thin leather coats. Having one considered the game, once playing it with her old flame, she thought only of things when her mind took her back to the time, on that day years ago. The local homeless man was playing his harmonica, rolling around in his wheel chair. He reminded her of this one guy she knew up in Washington. The guy, at the local homeless shelter, really more like psychiatric hospital for the urban dislocated, who would consume nothing but drinkable yogurt by in his tint. Well they called it a tint, but really it was more like a tarp. Just something to keep him warm at night, and protected from the rain.

While she had been through a rough patch, she tried to remind herself that others had been through worse. Though not always of active thought, but by the things she did when walking to family dollar to buy some smokes. She had been there often enough she was getting discounts, and got help from men that looked like vampire counts with their caps on backwards. She would got a pack of smokes for $3.95, despite the 4,45 price tag. She always wouldn't get IDed, and would always get referred to as ma'am. A passive thought in her minds wondered whether this was a trap, and at some point whether she would take advantage of deals long enough to get a reputation. And through that eventually get busted for handing out smokes. Yet she knew she was prone to flights of paranoid fantasy on every starry night, as she loiters under the glow of the apartment light.

She drowned herself in bits and bytes of Ruby code, figuring out now excuses for encryption schemes. Arline had only recently gotten sound back on her computer, even if it took plugging in her head phones to do it. She thought only the time when she hung out with her last room mate, before she had gotten herself some implants. At time she had only just recently gotten into the idea of some day getting some implants to try on different levels of sensory perception. She had gone for a while without using her remote viewing scheme, recently getting back into the flow of the video game. In some ways she identified more with @ man than people in the real life, pretending to be vampire assassins in the world of ASCII. But she never ASCII the question whether she would eventually become addicted. She used to spend more time online than going out into the real world to study the flow of the non-code called life. At one point she had been locked out of her apartment, and was stressing out about how to get back inside. She had had a run in with the guy that asked her--hey you wanting you something--before locking himself back into her studio. Considering the fact that most people she had met here were relatively noise, something had a hard time getting used to, there had come to be something heraldig about the guy with black trench coat acting like an asshole that night. Even night under the glow of the L.E.D. light she thinks only of yesterday as if it would be yet another tomorrow. For her, it was almost as if there was not a future at all.

Her life before the fall.

Her life before the flow of tobacco tea. She thought at times of returning to using tobacco tea instead of previously rolled cigarettes, and yet she also dreaded its medicinal taste. Yet in a way she appreciated, it was the taste of life with all of its bitterness. She missed the feeling of being drunk. With wine she respected alcohol enough not to be to heavy with it. Yet with nicotine there was no such respect. There was no such halting the flow of bug repellent with her system. After all if bugs didn't like it, then why should a human. She thought how her insides were always filled with butterflies, and thought it appropriate to let the poisonous drink flow like bathroom cleaner down the hatch. She thought of her mother, how she always mocked her for how little she took showed. Yet her mother didn't know that she was always tired.

She was fatigued and mired.

She was mired with the fall.

Comments

beta
Fairy Dust

Navigation

Languages

Social Media