My weekend as a Film Noir
January 22, 2006: 8:56 PM

The air in the room is dry and hot as hell, likely due to my neglect of the thermostat while I was watching the gang in Pittsburgh and the fellas in Seattle throw their troubles to the fishes. My dog whimpers something about my having too much to drink and I reflect on the weekend coming to see twilight in unison with my single malt bottle of scotch.

The dame and I spent what seemed like, and in retrospect probably was, hours at a shady bar in a shadier part of town: the University Campus slums. The blues man on the six-string had something to say and we all heard it, some with clearer heads than others. We drown our sorrows and down our pints and make way with the birthday boy over to the neighbourhood peeler bar, full of fire in the head and even more in the belly.

The least sweet of smells is the one you'll find there: air full of a thousand cigarettes just like the ones I'd swore to quit a year prior, and a glass of beer that you know something awful's been done to.

And it's this smell I find myself thinking about the next day sitting at work, tied in my monkeysuit and wishing that the hangover wasn't as bad as I'd dreaded, to no avail. Working as a suit hasn't been great to me, but it keeps the debtors at bay and my spirits in stock.

I adjust my tie when I see a stiff walk through the door and ask me the sort of thing I'd been hearing all day - "What's cheap, son?" and I think to myself "Pal, if you have that much trouble answering that question than your mirror needs a good shining".

I come to when the now empty bottle of scotch hits the floor with a crash that sends pieces of glass about the room, and my dog whimpers something about my irresponsibility. For once I feel like ignoring him, but the air is just as crisp and hot as ever and for a moment before my drunken stupor kicks me back asleep, I know he's right.

Thanks for the comments: Kristin, Fil, Christian Montoya, who should get a hold of me regarding his RSS idea.

« Previous Post | Next Post »