My Hero. A re-post.

Written pre deletion day. November 2008. Arrogance and vanity produce a tortured soul.

 

 

 

 

 

“He looks to the sky and asks why?”

 

With a shuffle, rumble and yawn he wakes to the blackened sky.  That the sun is not up does not worry him, for why should it, it is after all 10pm.  He nights are working days, and days his sleep filled nights.  There is nothing unusual to behold, this is his chosen life style, for he is unique.

 

Before anything he looks to his hands, do they shake today? Will they shake today? Please do not shake today. His reply is left open as he reaches for a cigarette.  Inhale, exhale, smoke, nicotine and the smallest piece of air.  No-one will ever stop him smoking, he smokes not out of need but because he is an artist, all artists smoke.  All artists smoke and drink gin.  Never will he conform because he is himself, he is unique.

 

He pulls on his blue jeans, blue always blue, and stumbles out of his bedroom on to the landing.  Anyone watching him would be horrified at the mess he is in, his eyes are black with death and dehydration, and his clothes are a mess…. and those jeans, oh god those skinny girls’ jeans, they have more holes than a false alibi.  He cares not, he does not see there revulsion, he loves his little girl jeans they make his ailing flesh looking more frail.  All his hero’s are skinny, musicians’ must be thin, thin is unique.

 

Passing his peers on the stairs he stops to say his greetings, “Hello Brett”, and with a smile he is on his way.  Can a photograph really constitute a friend?  He would never asks himself this question, why would he? He is friends with some of the coolest cats that have ever lived, they are his soul mates.  Why would they not love him, for he is hip and unique.

 

Walking into the kitchen he falls to despair, there are two unwashed cups in the sink, the people he lives with are animals, how could they leave two cups.  He is distraught, as he tirelessly attacks the two cups.  The cups must be clean, they must be clean for he will not allow two stray cups to spoil his façade, if the cups are not clean his act will fall and he will no longer be unique.

 

He wants desperately wants a coffee and reaches for the peculator but now he is in trouble.  Brewing his much needed coffee means the contamination of not only the peculator but worse … a cup.  He chooses to grin and bare it but the whole 4 minutes is incredible torture, he paces back and forth across the kitchen, he is so lucky he does not have carpet for it would be thread bare.  To his obvious relief the coffee eventually brews, so along with his coffee he retrieves some water and a beer from the fridge.  Why have one drink when you can have three, coffee to wake him up (though it is decaffeinated, he remembers the shakes), alcohol to dull his brain and water to rehydrate from the coffee and alcohol.  Smart thinking you see, now that’s unique.

 

Back to the comfort of his bed room he lights another cigarette, let me change that here, they are smokes, he likes a smoke, nothing as long winded as cigarettes, he smokes smokes for his is unique.

 

Once back in his room with his smokes, coffee, beer and water he sets about arranging his room, it has to be just so.  On the coffee table are his Mac book, smokes, ash tray, lighter, coffee, beer and water, however, nothing is that simple, not for a man as unique as he.  First the surface of the coffee table is brushed with your hands like “so”, then any wayward specs of dust or ash is blown away. Imagine our hero’s face level with the coffee table, eyes just peeking over … then he blows across the table “fufft fufft” comes the noise.  As the narrator I find it only fair to add that this ritual is in fact repeated at 5 minute intervals, imagine this and I dare you not to laugh.  Now he is happy to progress to the next stage, everything is placed in the required format, Mac book central, smokes-lighter-ashtray all exactly 5 inches away from his computer, all lined up together either horizontal and portrait …… all straight lines, imagine the smaller objects as building blocks to a house then you are near to what he has created.  He thinks nothing of this, we would cry OCD but he just smiles for he knows he is unique.

 

He loves his Mac book, her name is Victoria, he talks to her and she responds, therefore, she loves him.  She is his ideal woman, she is intelligent when needs be, silent when required and her wealth of musical library keeps him happy, happy in his four blue walls.  He loves his four blue walls, blue walls are a prerequisite for a Bluecoat, and he is a Bluecoat, sigh, he is so very unique.

 

Hours pass by with this ritual, the cleaning “fufft fufft”, the alcohol and his lovely inanimate Victoria to entertain our “Sir Uniqueness” until midnight when eventually he decides suitably drunk that he should get in his car and drive to his favourite club to interact with his friends and drink free liquor.  He rushes to this place, for this place is where he belongs, his friends can adore his uniqueness, they worship him.  Here he is lord of all he purveys, he spends no money (for he has none) and becomes heavily, blindly, falling down intoxicated, but he is king, his friends love him for this.  He will dance, oh holy crap he will dance, this is his dance floor, this is his home, and this is where he belongs.  He throws his hands in the air as he dances, he laughs to himself and warm feeling flows through his body, “when I pull shapes I am king, I am loved, I am unique”.

 

5am comes far too quickly, the lights go on and he wonders? where are all my friends? Never mind, I will see them all tomorrow night when once again I will be king, all I need to do is extend my credit card a little more and find the right key for the ignition…. how unique.

 

Look in stranger, what do you see?

 

I see him as a lonely, arrogant, drunk …. So much quicker and to the point than the 11 paragraphs he “believes” to be true, and honestly, what is so unique about being a bum? Would not sad be more appropriate?

 

Reviews

[EILEEN McGUINNESS]

This is an interesting story because of the way you have written it through the eyes of a man how impressive is that?
Perhaps you know someone who has all of these characteristics or maybe you are just a genius writer.
The story can be so easily oictured by the reader the words effortlessly flow off the page and there is a connection between booze versus technology versus liberal freedom and the personal self indulgence.
This could be about any student or geek a drop out from university.
The only mystery is whether this man has a project what is he doing on his mac pc?
How does he spend his days little is known about the artistic background but for someone like this they are incredibly vulnerable for they don't see the wisdom and common sense of reason and are oblivious to how they live their lives in an untidy unprofessional millitary style mess.

[Irving]

I like your style, very UNIQUE!

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

Sounds as if you know this person personally. Great description. Thank you for sharing. Glad to see you are writing again and that you were able to post the rest of the story. Enjoyed reading this.
Light,
Siddartha

[Jaclyn]

Sadly, I have known people like this....glad I got to read the rest of this...I love the areas in which you discuss his dancing and his return to 5 am....interesting that this man DOES seem to have OCD yet goes to bars, which are notoriously sweaty and nasty and dances and works himself into a sweat. Ugh....I am glad you see him for what he is, which as you said, is sad.