If I had a typewriter it would be dusty
"When...?"
"It happened almost a week ago.. Christ did you only just find out?"
When John thought back, it had been almost 7 years since they'd all been together. He found it difficult to say where the time had gone, from his perspective almost all aspects of his life remained unchanged, he existed in a horribly comforting form of stasis that he just couldn't bring himself to snap out of. He thought back on that day, before they all moved apart. It had been the hottest day that summer, blue skies with just little hints of cloud just floating in the horizon, a dazzling sun shining down on them. Looking up into the blue reminded him of that day, he often thought back on his past during the countless hours of dreamlike existence. That day, the good, the bad and the frankly forgettable things that were linked with it came back to the front of his mind.
They had been younger then, things were simpler and the problems that lay ahead of them wouldn't become apparent for another few years.
Paul cracked open another beer leaning his back against the wall. By most accounts he was already your classic stereotypical student lad, overly confident, loud and drunk, just how he liked it.
"Come on John your like 3 drinks behind already!"
Paul looked towards the rest of the guys in his own little attempt to rally some mock peer pressure, he'd always been naturally competitive and so was attempting to turn yet another event into some kind of contest. Typical Paul, thought John.
"Look I'm just not in the drinking mood yet, its only 1pm"
John lifted up his sunglasses blinking slightly in the light. As much as he loved the sun he couldn't help but hate this time of year and what it brought with it. Itchy throats, itchy eyes, sneezing and blocked sinuses. Hay fever was a bitch but he he still counted himself lucky, from childhood he remembered a kid called Rob who's eyes had puffed up to the point he could no longer open them, yes some people definitely had it worse. Thankfully for John this wasn't the case, he swallowed another tablet and let his concentration slide back to his awful hangover.
"Its never too early to drink, you know that. Look, this whole thing was your idea anyway so don't be claiming you're too tired or some crap now".
Paul looked at John, contemplated arguing his point, the lack of sleep, the amount of alcohol but decided it was just easier to forget who was right and drink through the pain.
"Hair of the dog... fine alright, throw me a can"
He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands. Looking outside at the sky he thought how he missed those times, when the world wasn't quite real yet and everything was still to play for. His eyes burned slightly, his hay fever had started kicking in for another year and the tablets he was taking didn't seem to be doing much.
"John?"
Somehow rubbing his eyes, making the itch worse was seeming to be therapeutic in this moment, the distraction his mind needed with this news.
"..Are you alright?"
"Yeah sorry I'm fine, my hay fever is just playing up. Have you heard from him?"
"Me? No... i wouldn't know what to say for one"
"How about what the fuck happened to you?"
"This is me remember? I'm not as straight to the point as you, besides in the circumstances
i think I'd chose my words carefully, better safe than sorry right?"
John stopped rubbing his eyes and lay his hand down next to him on the bed.
Chose his words carefully? Better safe than sorry? Despite all of what he'd just heard this made John angry. Did friends just abandon each other this quickly in difficult times? Had they all really been apart that long?
"Look, I'll be fine. Do you know where he is?"
"That's exactly why i called you, he needs to turn himself in John"
"Well like i said earlier, I had no idea about any of this.. look i better go".
"Alright but you'll let me know if you hear from him wont you?"
"Yeah.. I'll let you know..."
John hung up the phone, picked up his keys, his coat and headed for the door.
Why did this always have to happen on his day off?
----------------------------------------------------------------
Now i'm no writer but sometimes i just like to sit at my computer and type for 10 minutes and see what happens.
Sometimes i just sit down, a blank mind and make it up as i go along. I imagine thats how alot of good writers do it.. they just let it out onto the page. Maybe writing is something i should have practiced when i grew up, I always loved stories and had a fantastic imagination when i was younger.
I've told myself recently that i want to start writing something, i think its just because i spend too much time feeling uproductive, sitting around on my hands and i feel like i need a hobby. Something that i'm enthusiastic about and most importantly something to make me feel like less of a deadbeat.
This up there isn't what i was thinking of, lets just call it me sitting down tired after work with a lack of sleep and blathering something out. Lets call it practice. I'd say i need alot of it.
Oh and i'm taking a break from here.
Talk soon, you know how to get me.
x
"When...?"
"It happened almost a week ago.. Christ did you only just find out?"
When John thought back, it had been almost 7 years since they'd all been together. He found it difficult to say where the time had gone, from his perspective almost all aspects of his life remained unchanged, he existed in a horribly comforting form of stasis that he just couldn't bring himself to snap out of. He thought back on that day, before they all moved apart. It had been the hottest day that summer, blue skies with just little hints of cloud just floating in the horizon, a dazzling sun shining down on them. Looking up into the blue reminded him of that day, he often thought back on his past during the countless hours of dreamlike existence. That day, the good, the bad and the frankly forgettable things that were linked with it came back to the front of his mind.
They had been younger then, things were simpler and the problems that lay ahead of them wouldn't become apparent for another few years.
Paul cracked open another beer leaning his back against the wall. By most accounts he was already your classic stereotypical student lad, overly confident, loud and drunk, just how he liked it.
"Come on John your like 3 drinks behind already!"
Paul looked towards the rest of the guys in his own little attempt to rally some mock peer pressure, he'd always been naturally competitive and so was attempting to turn yet another event into some kind of contest. Typical Paul, thought John.
"Look I'm just not in the drinking mood yet, its only 1pm"
John lifted up his sunglasses blinking slightly in the light. As much as he loved the sun he couldn't help but hate this time of year and what it brought with it. Itchy throats, itchy eyes, sneezing and blocked sinuses. Hay fever was a bitch but he he still counted himself lucky, from childhood he remembered a kid called Rob who's eyes had puffed up to the point he could no longer open them, yes some people definitely had it worse. Thankfully for John this wasn't the case, he swallowed another tablet and let his concentration slide back to his awful hangover.
"Its never too early to drink, you know that. Look, this whole thing was your idea anyway so don't be claiming you're too tired or some crap now".
Paul looked at John, contemplated arguing his point, the lack of sleep, the amount of alcohol but decided it was just easier to forget who was right and drink through the pain.
"Hair of the dog... fine alright, throw me a can"
He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands. Looking outside at the sky he thought how he missed those times, when the world wasn't quite real yet and everything was still to play for. His eyes burned slightly, his hay fever had started kicking in for another year and the tablets he was taking didn't seem to be doing much.
"John?"
Somehow rubbing his eyes, making the itch worse was seeming to be therapeutic in this moment, the distraction his mind needed with this news.
"..Are you alright?"
"Yeah sorry I'm fine, my hay fever is just playing up. Have you heard from him?"
"Me? No... i wouldn't know what to say for one"
"How about what the fuck happened to you?"
"This is me remember? I'm not as straight to the point as you, besides in the circumstances
i think I'd chose my words carefully, better safe than sorry right?"
John stopped rubbing his eyes and lay his hand down next to him on the bed.
Chose his words carefully? Better safe than sorry? Despite all of what he'd just heard this made John angry. Did friends just abandon each other this quickly in difficult times? Had they all really been apart that long?
"Look, I'll be fine. Do you know where he is?"
"That's exactly why i called you, he needs to turn himself in John"
"Well like i said earlier, I had no idea about any of this.. look i better go".
"Alright but you'll let me know if you hear from him wont you?"
"Yeah.. I'll let you know..."
John hung up the phone, picked up his keys, his coat and headed for the door.
Why did this always have to happen on his day off?
----------------------------------------------------------------
Now i'm no writer but sometimes i just like to sit at my computer and type for 10 minutes and see what happens.
Sometimes i just sit down, a blank mind and make it up as i go along. I imagine thats how alot of good writers do it.. they just let it out onto the page. Maybe writing is something i should have practiced when i grew up, I always loved stories and had a fantastic imagination when i was younger.
I've told myself recently that i want to start writing something, i think its just because i spend too much time feeling uproductive, sitting around on my hands and i feel like i need a hobby. Something that i'm enthusiastic about and most importantly something to make me feel like less of a deadbeat.
This up there isn't what i was thinking of, lets just call it me sitting down tired after work with a lack of sleep and blathering something out. Lets call it practice. I'd say i need alot of it.
Oh and i'm taking a break from here.
Talk soon, you know how to get me.
x
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♥
See you when you return