NOTE: For a good friend of mine. A unique spirit.
It was about 1 am, me and Travis had been boozing since 7pm. The weekend before that one we learned a valuable lesson about pacing yourself when it comes to chemicals, 7pm shots are a bad idea but 7:30 mixed drinks are suitable and sustainable. Travis is form a town in Texas right outside Dallas. He doesn’t have a accent but if you listen right, you can hear a drawl. That slow southern melody that creeps into the last syllable of every word. His short blonde hair is greased back, he’s trying a new look. He wears and open collared button down black shirt that’s a size to small, his shaved chest hair pokes out the top, defying you not to look in an uneasy wonderment. Like a gorilla in disguise. We step outside of his dorm building for cigarettes and fresh air. Standing outside the UC at 1 am is like a circus, or a church. Roaring with emotion and ignorance and honesty. Everybody is lit and smiling and making eyes at one another. Occasionally you’ll see a girl (or even more tragic, a guy.) crying on the phone. But in the terrible but human way that persons sadness propels more jovial spirits amongst the mass. We walk out the revolving to door to see a group of girls. Simultaneously, as if some mutual toxin is released the brain to signify new blood, they look back to us. I wear shit eating grin of a lush and Travis lights two cigarettes in his mouth and hands me one. They begin to shake their asses. Their hips sway and jerk, but their eyes remain dancing around everyone but us. There’s no music playing, but the mating dance needs no tune.
“Attention starved sluts.” Travis shakes his head and turns around. I laugh. He’s only two years younger than me but 19 and 20 are important years. It’s when true patience begins to sprout. A few moments pass as we survey the area. Then I take a gulp from the Gatorade bottle we had very covertly poured a piss colored pint of tequila in. I hand it to Travis and he takes a bigger gulp, as if to challenge me. He’s a writer, like me and we get along on a writerly level, we both are (at times, cripplingly.) sympathetic yet generally disinterested. I smack him on the back and ask;
“So you’ll be back in Texas next week?” Liquor has this divine ability to flood out all the most important words. This isn’t a conversation easily started sober, Travis just got out of a mental institution for an attempted suicide. He says it’s because of stress and a history of undiagnosed depression. I respect his word, after all its his body, but If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because his girlfriend and too many drugs. A broken heart and a chemical assault can do a number on the nerves. Epidemic apathy can flip to self harm faster than a shotgun can turn a human body into soup. He often jokes about ending his life, but I don’t think he was joking all the time.
“Yeah, my parents figure it’s the best place for me to be right now, I disagree but hey,” He looks down, shrugs’ then continues “They pay the bills.”
“Home will settle you, dude.” I take another pull for the Mexican witches brew and give a hardy spit. The conversation is getting heavier and once someone allows you in their life like that it can get stressful. Travis is hardly a candid thou person, once he screamed at the top of his lungs he had just eaten acid and pissed out the window of his 10th floor dorm room wear nothing but top hat he bought for St. Patties day. As true as that statement was, and believe me, that mother fucker really was naked, no when needed to know. I don’t want to say he lacked poise, but I wouldn’t bring him to any fancy dinner parties, not like I get invited to any. “Maybe, I don’t know.” He looks at me and nods.
“My favorite thing about home is my mothers laugh. It’s this infectious...thing man. It’s great. Cures everything.” I smile and he does too.
“That’s awesome man. Yeah, if anything I miss my mom too.”
“Yeah. What about her.” A take a deep breath and feel the night air. “She listens to me.”
We start walking down the block and we talk. Travis a crazy guy, sporadic and wild with an energy that hard to place. He’s prone to conniption fits and panic attacks. A real, ‘heart on his sleeve’ type guy. He’s a rare human, always seeking adventure and perverse conversation.
“I just hate Texas. It’s a fucking void dude. And for the most part everyone there is a idiot hick.” From the day we met a mutual friends party he’s told me he hated Texas. Said he was asexual up until his senior year of high school because the girls in Texas were so sickeningly unattractive. Which is up for debate because there is a adult film star named Alexis Texas, and if her moniker is derivative of her geography, I wouldn’t mind taking a visit to Austin myself.
“It’s the shit times that make us really appreciate the good, think of it as rehab. Detox. Does the soul good.” I used to be good at giving advice. Back in the days when I had my shit proverbial shit together, now I just sound like someone’s semi-disinterested uncle. But Travis gets the sentiment, even if the words aren’t polished.
“I hope you mad at me about cock blocking you back there. It’s just that Judy isn’t that hot.” Travis half apologizes.
“See that’s debatable, I think she’s really hot but we got different taste. For instance I wouldn’t touch Kelly with a ten foot pole, but to each his own.” I say harshly, Kelly is his exgirlfriend who, truth be told, I didn’t attractive at all. I would of coddled my words but he really did cock block me, Judy was a girl I occasionally facebook stalked. We met her and a few of her friends in the hallway, the night progresses and so does and me a Judy become fast company. We end up in her room and I get a little up the shirt action then Travis comes in raving about how her roomates a bitch and fat. Judy defends her, but no one defends me and my junk. She kicks us out and I don’t talk to Travis for about 10 minutes, we just go back to his room to drink and listen to Tom Waits.
Travis is back home in Texas now, he works at a T-Mobile factory boxing phones. Healthier, or so he says. He’s be back in june for summer classes. The world won't be ready.
“So you’ll be back in Texas next week?” Liquor has this divine ability to flood out all the most important words. This isn’t a conversation easily started sober, Travis just got out of a mental institution for an attempted suicide. He says it’s because of stress and a history of undiagnosed depression. I respect his word, after all its his body, but If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because his girlfriend and too many drugs. A broken heart and a chemical assault can do a number on the nerves. Epidemic apathy can flip to self harm faster than a shotgun can turn a human body into soup. He often jokes about ending his life, but I don’t think he was joking all the time.
“Yeah, my parents figure it’s the best place for me to be right now, I disagree but hey,” He looks down, shrugs’ then continues “They pay the bills.”
“Home will settle you, dude.” I take another pull for the Mexican witches brew and give a hardy spit. The conversation is getting heavier and once someone allows you in their life like that it can get stressful. Travis is hardly a candid thou person, once he screamed at the top of his lungs he had just eaten acid and pissed out the window of his 10th floor dorm room wear nothing but top hat he bought for St. Patties day. As true as that statement was, and believe me, that mother fucker really was naked, no when needed to know. I don’t want to say he lacked poise, but I wouldn’t bring him to any fancy dinner parties, not like I get invited to any. “Maybe, I don’t know.” He looks at me and nods.
“My favorite thing about home is my mothers laugh. It’s this infectious...thing man. It’s great. Cures everything.” I smile and he does too.
“That’s awesome man. Yeah, if anything I miss my mom too.”
“Yeah. What about her.” A take a deep breath and feel the night air. “She listens to me.”
We start walking down the block and we talk. Travis a crazy guy, sporadic and wild with an energy that hard to place. He’s prone to conniption fits and panic attacks. A real, ‘heart on his sleeve’ type guy. He’s a rare human, always seeking adventure and perverse conversation.
“I just hate Texas. It’s a fucking void dude. And for the most part everyone there is a idiot hick.” From the day we met a mutual friends party he’s told me he hated Texas. Said he was asexual up until his senior year of high school because the girls in Texas were so sickeningly unattractive. Which is up for debate because there is a adult film star named Alexis Texas, and if her moniker is derivative of her geography, I wouldn’t mind taking a visit to Austin myself.
“It’s the shit times that make us really appreciate the good, think of it as rehab. Detox. Does the soul good.” I used to be good at giving advice. Back in the days when I had my shit proverbial shit together, now I just sound like someone’s semi-disinterested uncle. But Travis gets the sentiment, even if the words aren’t polished.
“I hope you mad at me about cock blocking you back there. It’s just that Judy isn’t that hot.” Travis half apologizes.
“See that’s debatable, I think she’s really hot but we got different taste. For instance I wouldn’t touch Kelly with a ten foot pole, but to each his own.” I say harshly, Kelly is his exgirlfriend who, truth be told, I didn’t attractive at all. I would of coddled my words but he really did cock block me, Judy was a girl I occasionally facebook stalked. We met her and a few of her friends in the hallway, the night progresses and so does and me a Judy become fast company. We end up in her room and I get a little up the shirt action then Travis comes in raving about how her roomates a bitch and fat. Judy defends her, but no one defends me and my junk. She kicks us out and I don’t talk to Travis for about 10 minutes, we just go back to his room to drink and listen to Tom Waits.
Travis is back home in Texas now, he works at a T-Mobile factory boxing phones. Healthier, or so he says. He’s be back in june for summer classes. The world won't be ready.
No comments:
Post a Comment