Hot and Cold

This city was never supposed to be as cold as it has been so far this winter. I've moved as far west as I possibly can, and it's not getting any warmer, and now the waters of the inlet lick the shores of the urban center, so there's no more land left to traverse, and I find myself stuck here in this frigid place. The only way to go now, is down.

Thank goodness for LeRoy and Nymphalidae who financed a small and private party last night to celebrate my birthday at a basement club on the south side of town. Remington and I have been perpetually broke for sometime now, but LeRoy supplied us with endless draft, and Nymphalidae drank gin, which used to be our choice of drink when we were lovers. Tony made a brief appearance, and everyone made fun of my attempts at trying to seduce a pregnant Wal-Mart cashier when I had to go there almost everyday for refills of spray paint and masking tape. My head sank closer to the table, and hearing the scenario described back to me in jest made me realize just how lost I truly am. I got up to piss, and noticed there was a tint of red to my urine, blood? I was so drunk by this point that it barely registered, so rather than fret over plans to see a doctor and imagined death scenarios, I went outside and had a smokie, and proceeded to stuff the whole mammoth mess into my face so quickly, and with such fervor, that by the time I had finished, I was covered in mustard. The owner/operator of the cart watched in silence, surely he had seen this disgusting display on numerous occasions.

I fell back into my orange vinyl seat inside, but before I could get some help at removing the mustard all over my face, everyone else was getting ready to leave so that we could go have some food, and some more beer. Tony had to leave though, he can barely hold his liquor and was obviously loaded when he got into his convertible roadster and smoked the tires into a screaming frenzy of spinning, burning rubber. When the tires finally caught traction he was unprepared for the jolt towards the front lawn of the poor souls that share the street with the club we were leaving. Our last vision of Toady was his little sports car rocking like a boat in water as he slowly set the tires back into the street because his display of man and machine put him into a blue box of discarded bottles on the boulevard. It was freezing, and I stumbled up the avenue covered in yellow condiment, shaking uncontrollably as I struggled to tie up the new scarf that I got for my birthday. I am so bad at tying things, all I could do was let it hang down each side of my chest. We were seated at a restaurant where they cook everything on a set of Moffatt stoves, we hovered around heated platters of nachos and pitchers of beer, surrounded by candlelight, with steamed windows so opaque that the street looked like an aquarium of trapped fish. It was hot, but then it was so cold, back and forth it went, each draft from the back door sent a shiver through my body, pushing me closer to Nymphalidae. LeRoy and Remington kept a close watch on the two of us though, making sure that my soft hand never reached the small of her back during our private celebration in the corner of the restaurant. We were really having a great time, it was select, and fucking cracking, but there is always an end to such loveliness, and watching Nymphalidae's hot breath disappear into the oncoming light of the No.3 approaching behind our backs after her and Leroy paid the bill, represented the end of our charade.

So it was only moments later then, when I said goodbye and got off the bus, to take a one stop train ride as close to home as I could get, which wasn't very close. I tucked my chin down, and fired my feet as fast as they would carry me towards my loft, where it's so hot that I have to leave at least one of the three 10 foot windows open all the time. The white wires of my iPod that led up to my ears were stiff from the elements, and as I walked along I stepped over a woman's glove lying in the middle of the sidewalk. I imagined who it belonged to, how she must have been at that spot only moments before me, and how her hand must be cold. I kept walking, not bothering to pick it up, hot on her trail.