I guess it was technically downtown since that area was lower than the rest of the city. We called it The Flats but we didn't know why. It was where poor minority families settled. It was also home to the worst elementary school in town and the middle school where(more) I learned algebra from a tenured alcoholic. He kept a thermos full of spiked tomato juice in his desk drawer and claimed to have wrestled bears in his youth. That was hard to imagine given his horrible physical condition and the cloying stench of vodka.
I never lived downtown but I visited on occasion. This was when that biker bar was open, the one where the owner let people do coke off the pool tables. The cops came once in a while but they weren't eager to walk in to a place that had thirty Harleys parked out front.
That area seemed to attract the most troubled of my drinking buddies. It offered a bit of insanity they couldn't find in the sports bars and house parties that we frequented. Marty got himself mixed up with some crackheads and freebased himself into a few months of therapy. After the official suicide watch ended I stayed with him for a few nights, but after seeing how messed up he was I was ready to jump out a window myself.
I never understood why things were so different downtown. The people where I lived weren't all that well off. They were middle class shmucks working overtime to pay their mortgages every month. They spent their Saturdays waxing Ford Escorts and fertilizing their lawns. Their life was a slow death. Downtown is where things happened. It's where people got shot, where that kid got caught humping a dog, where I learned to read.(less)
"Do we have to go out tonight? I'm tired and I'm not in the mood for being fake nice."
Sarah was lying on her bed. She knew that changing into her jammies the moment she got home was going to have serious repercussions. That was probably why she did it. Now that(more) she was feeling comfy and the prospect of being snuggly warm in her own home for the night made making the decision not to go out far easier.
"But we planned this!" Helen was trying to hide her disappointment and failing. "We were looking forward to this all day!"
"No, Helen, you were. But it's not like we're not going to get a chance again. The pub will still be there tomorrow night, and at the weekend, and next week again."
"Yeah I know, but I got ready and everything."
"I'm sorry. But I'm really just not in the mood for going out."
"OK. How about I get a couple of bottles of Peanut Greasy and I call over for a vino video night."
Sarah squeezed her eyes tight. She took a breath and started let down number two.
After she hung up she wasn't sure if Helen fully understood. She suspected that she didn't. To be honest she wasn't sure herself.
She had been feeling more down and more tired lately and didn't know why. She wanted less and less of the lifestyle she spent so long trying to achieve. People told her she had it all. But she didn't know what to do with it. The 'it' seemed 'shit'.
She turned on then turned off the TV. Opened and then closed a book. Made and then didn't drink a cup of tea.
She went to bed.
Maybe in her dreams she'd find out what was missing.(less)
the door was barely open before Sam and Jason were intertwined in one another's arms, driven by a tense whirlwind of desire, bursting from the control the two managed to keep all night long. air molecules stood still as the two, breathless, knocked first into the non-suspecting console table(more) in the foyer, then the lamp around the corner, and finally, with slightly better aim, Jason pinned Sam successfully against the hallway wall. the mere force of his body drove Sam to moan, her legs naturally wrapped around his belt. his mouth hungrily surveyed her neck, her collarbone, and arriving at the succulent breasts, eagerly emerging from her black bra.
his saliva merged with the desire of her pores and made her shiver. Jason's mouth continued to descend, kissing her belly that craved his attention, and, in an effortless acrobatic move, he put her legs over his shoulder, his hands by her pelvic bones pinned her up against the wall.
there was a moment of pause - pure silence except for two synchronized heartbeat. his steely blues met her quivering eyes, glossy from desire, and maintained them as his tongue moved skillfully to her underwear and his teeth pulled it down. it was the longest pause of Sam's life, but before she can say "please", his face disappeared under her skirt completely and she felt his lips on hers, pulsating; his tongue exploring her insides, and then the suction. he went downtown. and she went wild.(less)
They were timid and bashful, their hands only brushing never truly touching. The lights from the city shone brightly in the downtown twilight. Margaery caught herself every so often taking but a peek at Sansa. Every other glance their eyes would meet and both girls would simply smile and(more) giggle nervously in response. Margaery could feel the butterflies in her chest flapping wildly. She wanted so badly to simply grasp the other girl's hand, but she didn't want to push beyond Sansa's comfort zone. After all, this was new to her.
Margaery remembered the sleepover all those months ago where Sansa had revealed to Margaery her attraction to girls. Things hadn't changed between them much, until recently. Margaery had never been secretive about her pansexuality and admittedly, her feelings for Sansa had been burning for some time now. The red head had been the one to ask her out, which had come as quite the surprise but she never could refuse her good friend.
So together they walked. Lost in each other's laughter and silence. (less)
I walk downtown with my heart thumping in my fingertips. There is ecstasy and agony and pain and love. But through it all, I am someone alive. I am conscious and living and the breath I take feels like a hundred gusts. The breath I lost feels tornadoes inside(more) me.
I am in love with a man. He loves me too. He lives in my heart and I live in his. I have realized something today: I am home. I am home. (less)
Tony and the idiot babbling away beside him shot down alleys, behind dumpsters, and cut through the lower levels of abandoned warehouses. Each time, Petty's feet slowed Tony would ask, out of breath, if they were almost there. They never were, until thirty minutes into their trek.
"This i(more)s where I've been crashing," he wiped the sweat from his pimpled brow. "Take ya shoes off. Or don't. I don't care. It's a shithole, I know. But this is what I can afford." Tony's head and chest were pounding, his heart near bursting from exertion, and Petty's words drilling into his skull. The sparse apartment allowed the icy breeze from outside to travel across Tony's skin. Petty was still talking.
"Ain't much, but I sold a lot of my shit. Ya can sit on the mattress if ya wanna." A stained, uncovered mattress laying on the bare concrete. Yeah, he'd pass.
"I'll stand, thanks." He crossed his arms, feeling just as uncomfortable as he did in Winnie's apartment. Petty assembled his kit.
"Hey Tony, have you got any?"
"No," he lied. "Not for a few days." Perhaps he was cut-out for this lifestyle.
"Damn, a few days? We better get somethin' in ya. Look real good for a few days without dope, I gotta say. Ever think about modelling?" When Tony thought about it earlier, it wasn't nearly as weird.
"Hell no. You think I'm a faggot?"
"'Course not. I think you're an alright guy, kinda go with the flow. But if ya change your mind I know this dude on 16th with a righteous gig set up. Shoots out the asshole."
"Shoots out the-oh.Yeah, okay, I'll think about it."
"Speaking of shots, ya wanna do the honors?"
"Really?" Maybe Petty wasn't such a bad guy after all.
holed up in a tiny apartment surrounded by orange peels that are beginning to harden into brittle chips with whimsical concavities turned upwards, perhaps looking for the sun. outside, the sky like some enormous florescent; maybe white, maybe grey, but monochromatic through and through, an oppressive blanket of disinterest(more)ed brightness you can hear it exhale if you listen closely but it doesnt breathe inwards, which, some would say, is the *real* indication of life. what use is a large, flat, floating creature if all it does is exhale? increasing the air pressure, suffocating all of us slowly - surely, but slowly my skin will be pushed inwards and warp around the frail and scarred bones inside, swallowing whatever kinds of flesh lie in between as a compact paste; as a pigment it strives towards magenta but it will never be that. at least not exactly.
i imagine voices on the other end of the telephone (a land line, mind you, so that id have the swirling cord to try and make sense of while stumbling over words and doing my best to maintain a regular heart rate as i stare out the window and spy on the excuses for life downtown) their conversation is comforting; tea tree oil, the cool mist growing at the base of a waterfall, the sound of seeds being poured into a sturdy container, the smell of a shared bed. starting the day with someone else, simultaneously rubbing the sleep out of your pores and joints and memories - together in every sense.
but this room is crammed with the stiff skin of oranges and zealously invasive colorless light and there is no place for love here or anywhere in the waking world. (less)