chriskaasi

How is it possible that I live the life of Rocky Dennis yet look completely normal? Im restless and wandering the streets on a Saturday night glumstruck and nervous for whatever reason Im not really sure ambient house music and Im trying to feel the vibe the way I used to when I was in my early to mid twenties, but now everything seems dead, almost like someone shined a light on what I once thought was paradise and now I realize its virtually condemned roach infested and the walls are filthy and crumbling ugh Im driving and I figure Ill try getting out of the house tonight. I wanna go to Dave and Busters to play video games and have some beers, but I get there at 12:45am and the parkinglots emptying quick. I walk up to the front door and realize they close at 1:00am goddamn now, Im driving back towards the beach and Im trying harder than ever to psyche myself up constantly trying to pump myself full of images of the past crazy drunken latenights at clubs and people and music and drinking and wandering and more people and more music and more drinking God! The way the Milkbar used to be in its hayday! Just being downtown and that crazy fucking line all the way down the block and the walk down the twisty stairs, down to the club and the different bars and different rooms and all the people Im driving back out to the beach trying to psyche myself up, figuring Ill hit Sneakers and itll be great cause Ill sit at the outside bar that overlooks first street and therell be tons of hot chicks and the atmospherell be electric. Im parking and the night is all blue neon haze, but something seems off. I walk up to the front of the place and the doorman is a regular sportsbar doorman, but slightly too fashionable. He has the goddamn headset on like he works at Banana Republic and instantly stares me down. I ask him how late the place is open, only Im nervous so I actually say, Do you know how late its open?, as if hes the doorman yet amazingly has no concept of the fucking sports bar he works at. He says, Two., and asks if I have some I.D. which seems insane since Im obviously in my thirties. Then he tells me that I cant go in unless I turn my hat around. I ask him if hes serious, to which he sternly looks at me and says, Look, you cant go in there like that. You gotta turn it around or not wear it at all. So Im stunned but Im not gonna turn my hat around cause it looks weird forwards. The top of it sticks up too high. It looks too redneck or too oldmanish sort of like curmudgeony old military veterans when they where baseball caps fuck now, Im walking all the way back across the parkinglot to set my cap in the car, and I know my hair must look smashed down and all hatheadish. I contemplate leaving, but then I think, no, fuck that. Im gonna try to have fun tonight. Im not gonna let something stupid like that slow me down. I get back to the door and hes not even there walk in, admire the place, walk past the hostess whos a tight little piece of ass dressed in a cheerleader outfit (sportsbar theme, and hence all the girls have to wear cheerleader outfits.) She looks like shes about to ask me if I need to be seated or something, but Im too awkward to acknowledge her, so I walk back towards the outside bar pretending like I didnt see her. I get a beer at the bar and walk through the crowd of empty tables to find a seat that looks out facing first street. The shame of it all, is the place is really cool looking. All the tables outside are silver metallic and sparkle neon pink and blue from all the lights above them. Im staring at nothing. Im looking around the place, but theres somehow nothing to look at. The place is relatively empty a few couples back behind me and a million t.v.s around me cars driving by and the new hotel, so gorgeous and majestic right on the ocean in front of me, but theres nothing to look at. I feel tense and every move I make feels calculated and fake pick my foot up and set it on my knee lean back and stretch clasp my hands and rest them on the back of my head like the portrait of comfort, but Im somehow fake. Im somehow doing all of this right on cue like a bad actor whos painfully aware of the camera. Im drinking fast staring across the table pink neon haze and Im trying to put myself out of my misery. Im trying to forget that Im here. Im trying to have fun, but fun doesnt require so much effort. Fun is fun because its natural and spontaneous and Im anything but. Only theres a highlight yes, one small highlight in the midst of this awkward solemnity. Im looking off to the left through the gate that blocks the bar from the front door (so people cant walk in off the street without having their I.D.s checked.) The fineass cheerleader hostess is standing their talking to big handsomeboy doorman and shes fiddling with her underwear. Shes lifting up the back of her skirt under the impression no one sees her, but I do. Im sitting right here and that gate aint exactly a brick wall. Shes lifting up the back of her skirt and pulling her panties out of her ass, and her ass is incredible. For one brief second I feel alive. Her ass wakes me up, but its almost like seeing a shooting star. Its exhilarating, but only for a split second, and then you have to go back to your own life. Shes finished and pulls her skirt down, straightening it. Their conversation goes on and on and Im looking out at nothing, feeling nothing, wanting nothing (and that last line may be a lie, but Im not a hundred percent sure.) I finish my beer, and dread the fact that I have to walk past them when I leave bigguy doorman mentally overpowered me by not letting me wear my hat backwards and cheerleader hostess is too pretty for someone who feels like a loser and probably has hathair. I walk out quick, eyes down, pretending to be distracted in a way that Im sure looks really fake. Out in the night air I feel dead somehow like a relic thats lost its purpose. Im an alien, and Im definitely not wanted anywhere. Im drinking beer after beer at home and the passage of time is a pain in the ass.