I do not believe in god.
It interests me that people use rational thought as well as degrees of "proof" to justify everything in this world. Everything except religion. It seems that certain rational thoughts are suspended while discussing religious beliefs, at least to an extent.
If someone says the world is flat, you laugh at them and then ignore the rest of whatever it is that they're saying. It has been "proven" that the earth is round, and there is quite a bit of evidence to suggest that is the case. Now it makes perfect sense that before this evidence existed, one would have no problem thinking the earth is flat. But when the overwhelming evidence is provided to the public, you would most likely think rationally and critically on the subject, then come to a conclusion in line with the evidence that has been provided. To do otherwise seems backwards doesn't it? That doesn't prevent people from ascribing to those backward, and sometimes dangerous views, hence: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flat_Earth_Society
I can only hope the flat earth society is some sort of inside joke.
Why is it then that no matter what is said, people cling to religion? Fear? Simplicity? Apathy? I definitely don't have all the answers, but I'm also definitely not going to blindly believe in something with absolutely no evidence supporting the theory. I mean come on, the earth ain't flat, common knowledge right?
There are several thoughts swirling around in my head right now, none of which I have the literary capability to explain while sitting on my porch on this beautiful Sunday afternoon.
Think.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Muse
Where to start? Well Jill just left. She caught the 5:25 to LA and back to her real life. Driving home after saying goodbye I found myself visibly upset for the first time in some years. Why? Not sure exactly, I think it’s the way she looks at me. Just being near this little girl makes me feel so fucking good. Selfish I know, but it’s not like it’s hurting anything. I do my best nowadays to hold back a bit but wow, she walks in and that just doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not her good looks; plenty of pretty girls out there. It’s that life is for living. Being around Jill can make you feel like you’re truly experiencing your life in the same moment it’s happening. Maybe it’s her smile. Smarts are nice to have, and she’s got them too. To be intelligently creative is to be pretty awesome if ya ask me. Ever been around someone and you just dig it so much no matter what? Oh Jill Allen, I love ya. Who knows what it is exactly but let’s not talk semantics. I’ll take it, all of it.
¬¬
I’m thinking about writing, thinking about writing, writing about thinking about writing. I will continue. When I first began developing Darwin as a character I had no mold, maybe that’s why my classmates pictured me. Who is Darwin? Your guess is as good as mine at this point. I suppose he is a bit like me. He’s by no means a hermit but values his solitude more than most. Drinks a bit too much yet he’s as fit as anyone. He’s not exactly sure why people like him, but they do anyway. He’s aware of his intelligence, but doesn’t always use it. He’s got no qualms about smoking pot, but probably gives too much of a shit what people think of him. He listens to classical music, but enjoys an AC/DC track as much as the next man. He’s the guy no one thinks too much about, but inside he just knows he’ll do something important one day. He’s not too tall, but he’ll fuck your shit up if you do something that warrants it.
California. Nice setting right? Definitely gonna be a good excuse to visit Topanga soon for “research”. God I miss it. Whenever I reminisce, a longing I’m not exactly used to shows up; a little tug that whispers, “You don’t belong here, go.” I will one day. One day. I’ve been saying that shit for so long. I can still see every fallen oak leaf, every unique person, every sunset and it’s slowly driving me crazy. Maybe if I go visit I’ll feel better. I miss Sloan’s oak. I miss Jill. Maybe finishing college in Michigan is the right thing to do but it feels like I’ll never realize this journey and it’s only the beginning. We all have dreams right? I’d pay alotta money to be driving down the PCH right now. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the bed of a truck with five immigrant workers, in fact that would do just fine. As long as my eyes can touch the ocean and my nose can taste the salt I’ll be ok. Yep, time to move.
Never did figure out what I’m going to be when I grow up, but writing feels like a good fit. Maybe I’ll be a success, maybe I’ll fail miserably. I gotta do something and writing is fun so why not. What are your dreams?
¬¬
I’m thinking about writing, thinking about writing, writing about thinking about writing. I will continue. When I first began developing Darwin as a character I had no mold, maybe that’s why my classmates pictured me. Who is Darwin? Your guess is as good as mine at this point. I suppose he is a bit like me. He’s by no means a hermit but values his solitude more than most. Drinks a bit too much yet he’s as fit as anyone. He’s not exactly sure why people like him, but they do anyway. He’s aware of his intelligence, but doesn’t always use it. He’s got no qualms about smoking pot, but probably gives too much of a shit what people think of him. He listens to classical music, but enjoys an AC/DC track as much as the next man. He’s the guy no one thinks too much about, but inside he just knows he’ll do something important one day. He’s not too tall, but he’ll fuck your shit up if you do something that warrants it.
California. Nice setting right? Definitely gonna be a good excuse to visit Topanga soon for “research”. God I miss it. Whenever I reminisce, a longing I’m not exactly used to shows up; a little tug that whispers, “You don’t belong here, go.” I will one day. One day. I’ve been saying that shit for so long. I can still see every fallen oak leaf, every unique person, every sunset and it’s slowly driving me crazy. Maybe if I go visit I’ll feel better. I miss Sloan’s oak. I miss Jill. Maybe finishing college in Michigan is the right thing to do but it feels like I’ll never realize this journey and it’s only the beginning. We all have dreams right? I’d pay alotta money to be driving down the PCH right now. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the bed of a truck with five immigrant workers, in fact that would do just fine. As long as my eyes can touch the ocean and my nose can taste the salt I’ll be ok. Yep, time to move.
Never did figure out what I’m going to be when I grow up, but writing feels like a good fit. Maybe I’ll be a success, maybe I’ll fail miserably. I gotta do something and writing is fun so why not. What are your dreams?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
A little more on Darwin...
THE THEORY OF EVIL-UTION Continued..
It was unusually cold outside, but the worn, dark blue hoodie did its best to keep Darwin insulated from the brisk night air. He could taste the salt in the wind, lifted out of the waves by the breeze and blown up the coastline. “Bet they can smell the ocean all the way to Old Topanga Canyon Road tonight,” he thought while strolling aimlessly down the beach, flip flops dangling from his pinky finger and his big toes carving arcing lines in the cold, damp sand leading up to each footprint. It was methodical the way he walked; slowly lifting his leg and bending his ankle so he could drag the tops of his toes along the sand, flicking a bit in the air at the end and planting his foot back into the moist earth. As he walked, he puffed a cigar he’d gotten at the liquor store earlier. It tasted cheap, but it was a cigar nonetheless and the effect was about the same.
The cheroot, the beach, and the cold night were doing exactly what they were supposed to do, and what they had done for Darwin so many times in the past. The calming state this combination produced seemed almost like a drug to him, groggy with the feeling of peace and contentment he’d been lacking since he arrived in L.A. This past week had been tough. He still hadn’t found a real place to live, and his knuckles had begun to scab over where he’d bashed them into that asshole’s face a few days ago. On top of all that, he’d finally gotten a hold of Jen.
He’d loved her once, but those days seemed far in the past. She said she’s got a new boyfriend, and she thinks they’re gonna get married one day. Darwin couldn’t say anything bad cause in the front of his mind he was happy for her. In the the back of his mind though, he was sad for himself. He still dreamt about their time together. Walking down the beach just then, he resolved to get her back one day.
As he mindlessly wandered down the coast, he reminisced about her blonde hair, perfect dimpled smile and the way their lives and thoughts had intertwined so perfectly. He noticed what looked to be a lump in the ocean. About 50 yards out, illuminated by the almost full moon he saw what had to have been a grey whale surface. “As if tonight wasn’t good enough,” he said aloud, chuckling to himself as a smile slowly formed on his lips.
The next morning he woke up refreshed, the warm sun peeking through the mesh window of his tent. The spot was pretty perfect, nestled close to the beach in some tall grasses just past the entrance to Topanga Canyon. Rolling out of his sleeping bag, he decided that this was the feeling he’d been waiting for. “I WILL get a job today!” he repeated out loud a few times, hoping to jump start a self-fulfilling prophesy.
After breaking camp, he threw on the big hiking pack, latched the waist straps, and started up the hill to the PCH. Hitting the concrete, Darwin headed towards LA. He could get there by noon, and with some luck find a public shower and a place to change into his “proper” clothes. No one’s gonna hire a guy in holey jeans and a Pabst tee-shirt, so he’d bought some chinos, a belt, and a nice yellow polo at the Salvation army just for job hunting.
Tossing a finger in the air for the hell of it, Darwin started walking. He’d tried to hitchhike on the way down from Big Sur a month ago, and ended up making the journey almost entirely by foot. The closest he’d gotten was some douche-bag giving him the finger in passing out the roof of his big fat black Mercedes. As he walked along the shore side of the PCH, left thumb out at his side, he realized he’d been whistling Kokomo by The Beach Boys for awhile now. “Fuck did that come from?” He thought. As he began pondering how things randomly pop into his head, a car slowed.
The passenger window of the brand new Cadillac rolled down and a 30-something brunette in sunglasses raised her arm to motion Darwin over.
“Where ya goin?” The woman asked as he walked towards the car.
“Just tryin’ to get into LA, you could drop me at the Santa Monica Pier.” He replied, surprised at his good fortune. Not only was he getting a ride, but this woman was striking.
“Sure hop in.” She said.
Darwin opened the back door and carefully set his pack on the floor behind the passenger seat. Shutting the rear door and opening the front, he hopped in. Sitting down, he wondered what the hell this woman was doing. Darwin was cool but geez, the wrong dude gets in her car and this lady was assaulted for sure. He hadn’t quite shut the door and they were off.
“I’m Carissa, who are you?”
“Darwin. Like the evolution guy.” He replied, noticing her short dark hair and the ample chest that she’d need a parka to hide. His mind said one thing, but his lips said another.
“Thanks a lot for the ride Carissa, I really appreciate it.”
“No prob, pay it forward right?” She replied, smiling.
“Right.” Darwin said, still amazed at the situation.
As they drove, he shared his current story at Carissa’s prodding. He explained how he’d come to LA last month after drifting down the California coast over the previous year, spending his savings and doing odd jobs as he moved from town to town in search of decent employment and some good surroundings. He told her he was going job hunting today for something temporary, and she laughed.
“Not in that you’re not!” She exclaimed.
“No, I’ve got a change of clothes to wear.” Darwin replied, just a bit squashed.
“I would hope so!” she said, unaware of the embarrassment she’d just caused.
A bit more simple conversation and they approached the pier. Carissa pulled off to the shoulder and put her car in park. Reaching down into the console between them, she retrieved a clear card and handed it to him. It was made of some sort of thin, see-through plastic and it felt more like a driver’s license than a business card. On it was her name, Carissa Bee. It said she worked for some LLC Real Estate company, and boasted “over 10 million in residential sales in 2009.” As if the Bluetooth, Cadillac, and tight charcoal business suit didn’t give that away already.
“You’re a good person, I can just tell. It’s the way you talk I think. If you or anyone you know ever need a home in LA County, call me.” Carissa said with her big Realtor smile.
“I will, and thanks again for the ride.” He said, stepping out of the car and grabbing his pack from the back seat.
Darwin shut the door and adjusted the heavy pack on his shoulders, then looked through the open front window at his beautiful chauffeur. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“Ya know..... You could call me for a drink too, but try and dress a little nicer next time.” She said.
Before he could respond she was gone, stepping on the gas and blasting back onto the road. Watching her car accelerate down the PCH he was beside himself, not sure how to comprehend what had just happened. Darwin had always been told he was handsome, but never quite believed it. “I guess Carissa thought so too but still, who gives their phone number to a hitchhiker?” He thought. He wondered if she’d been coming on to him or not. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He smiled and started walking.
He’d gotten almost to the staircase at the pier when he noticed a car slowing behind him again. He didn’t have his thumb out this time, and looking back his heart sank. A black and white Crown Vic with LAPD on the door rolled to a stop at Darwin’s right. Remembering immediately the half ounce of pot he had in his pack, his sunken heart started beating a bit faster.
“Sir, hold on a minute. Where are you going?” The cop asked from the driver’s side window.
“Oh… I was just tryin to use the pier to cross the PCH, officer.” Darwin said tentatively.
“Figured, but you can’t.”
“Did I do something wrong sir?” he asked nervously, the knowledge of the pot in his pack giving him the feeling of water filling his lungs.
“I dunno, did you?” The officer asked stone-faced.
“No sir.”
Cracking a half smile, the officer spoke.
“You’re alright son, but some jackass pulled a gun up there a little while ago so you’re definitely not getting through that way.”
As he stood next to the cruiser unsure of how to proceed, the cop spoke again.
“Be careful crossing kid, I don’t give a fuck about jaywalking just don’t get hit.” And with that he continued to roll his squad car down the shoulder.
Darwin lifted his hand as the cruiser rolled away, and saw the cop flash a peace sign through the rear window. “Likewise” Darwin thought, smiling a bit.
The rest of the day was spent gathering applications from restaurants, bars, and a few pot clinics, with lunch at the India Jones chow truck. Not the best food, but not the most money either. With the sun about 3 hours from the ocean he called it a day. Walking back towards the coast he fingered the sharp plastic card he’d gotten earlier, wondering what the dating rules would say about this one. How do you ask a successful woman out for a drink when she met you on the side of the road? She told him to call he thought, so screw it.
Finding one of the few pay phones left on the planet wasn’t the easiest task, but it didn’t take too long. “I sure do love LA.” he thought, noticing the lewd graffiti scrawled on the side of the machine. Picking up the phone, an interesting smell emanated from the receiver. Two quarters later he was nervously dialing her number while flexing the card back and forth between his fingers. Clearing his throat, he heard it ring and then someone picked up.
“Hello?” The woman’s voice asked.
“Hi, is this Carissa?”
“Yup.”
“This is Darwin. I just wanted to call to thank you again for the lift cause it really made my day… Also, I wanted to ask about that drink.”
As he spoke, Darwin was sure he heard a deeper voice in the back round on Carissa’s end.
“Yea dad, that sounds great. How’s about you call me when you know where... Ok, that’s great… I love you too… Bye.” And she hung up.
Replacing the receiver, Darwin scratched his head. What the fuck was that all about? Today was shaping up to be pretty peculiar. Fairly excited and even more confused than before, He set off in search of a bar and some answers.
It was unusually cold outside, but the worn, dark blue hoodie did its best to keep Darwin insulated from the brisk night air. He could taste the salt in the wind, lifted out of the waves by the breeze and blown up the coastline. “Bet they can smell the ocean all the way to Old Topanga Canyon Road tonight,” he thought while strolling aimlessly down the beach, flip flops dangling from his pinky finger and his big toes carving arcing lines in the cold, damp sand leading up to each footprint. It was methodical the way he walked; slowly lifting his leg and bending his ankle so he could drag the tops of his toes along the sand, flicking a bit in the air at the end and planting his foot back into the moist earth. As he walked, he puffed a cigar he’d gotten at the liquor store earlier. It tasted cheap, but it was a cigar nonetheless and the effect was about the same.
The cheroot, the beach, and the cold night were doing exactly what they were supposed to do, and what they had done for Darwin so many times in the past. The calming state this combination produced seemed almost like a drug to him, groggy with the feeling of peace and contentment he’d been lacking since he arrived in L.A. This past week had been tough. He still hadn’t found a real place to live, and his knuckles had begun to scab over where he’d bashed them into that asshole’s face a few days ago. On top of all that, he’d finally gotten a hold of Jen.
He’d loved her once, but those days seemed far in the past. She said she’s got a new boyfriend, and she thinks they’re gonna get married one day. Darwin couldn’t say anything bad cause in the front of his mind he was happy for her. In the the back of his mind though, he was sad for himself. He still dreamt about their time together. Walking down the beach just then, he resolved to get her back one day.
As he mindlessly wandered down the coast, he reminisced about her blonde hair, perfect dimpled smile and the way their lives and thoughts had intertwined so perfectly. He noticed what looked to be a lump in the ocean. About 50 yards out, illuminated by the almost full moon he saw what had to have been a grey whale surface. “As if tonight wasn’t good enough,” he said aloud, chuckling to himself as a smile slowly formed on his lips.
The next morning he woke up refreshed, the warm sun peeking through the mesh window of his tent. The spot was pretty perfect, nestled close to the beach in some tall grasses just past the entrance to Topanga Canyon. Rolling out of his sleeping bag, he decided that this was the feeling he’d been waiting for. “I WILL get a job today!” he repeated out loud a few times, hoping to jump start a self-fulfilling prophesy.
After breaking camp, he threw on the big hiking pack, latched the waist straps, and started up the hill to the PCH. Hitting the concrete, Darwin headed towards LA. He could get there by noon, and with some luck find a public shower and a place to change into his “proper” clothes. No one’s gonna hire a guy in holey jeans and a Pabst tee-shirt, so he’d bought some chinos, a belt, and a nice yellow polo at the Salvation army just for job hunting.
Tossing a finger in the air for the hell of it, Darwin started walking. He’d tried to hitchhike on the way down from Big Sur a month ago, and ended up making the journey almost entirely by foot. The closest he’d gotten was some douche-bag giving him the finger in passing out the roof of his big fat black Mercedes. As he walked along the shore side of the PCH, left thumb out at his side, he realized he’d been whistling Kokomo by The Beach Boys for awhile now. “Fuck did that come from?” He thought. As he began pondering how things randomly pop into his head, a car slowed.
The passenger window of the brand new Cadillac rolled down and a 30-something brunette in sunglasses raised her arm to motion Darwin over.
“Where ya goin?” The woman asked as he walked towards the car.
“Just tryin’ to get into LA, you could drop me at the Santa Monica Pier.” He replied, surprised at his good fortune. Not only was he getting a ride, but this woman was striking.
“Sure hop in.” She said.
Darwin opened the back door and carefully set his pack on the floor behind the passenger seat. Shutting the rear door and opening the front, he hopped in. Sitting down, he wondered what the hell this woman was doing. Darwin was cool but geez, the wrong dude gets in her car and this lady was assaulted for sure. He hadn’t quite shut the door and they were off.
“I’m Carissa, who are you?”
“Darwin. Like the evolution guy.” He replied, noticing her short dark hair and the ample chest that she’d need a parka to hide. His mind said one thing, but his lips said another.
“Thanks a lot for the ride Carissa, I really appreciate it.”
“No prob, pay it forward right?” She replied, smiling.
“Right.” Darwin said, still amazed at the situation.
As they drove, he shared his current story at Carissa’s prodding. He explained how he’d come to LA last month after drifting down the California coast over the previous year, spending his savings and doing odd jobs as he moved from town to town in search of decent employment and some good surroundings. He told her he was going job hunting today for something temporary, and she laughed.
“Not in that you’re not!” She exclaimed.
“No, I’ve got a change of clothes to wear.” Darwin replied, just a bit squashed.
“I would hope so!” she said, unaware of the embarrassment she’d just caused.
A bit more simple conversation and they approached the pier. Carissa pulled off to the shoulder and put her car in park. Reaching down into the console between them, she retrieved a clear card and handed it to him. It was made of some sort of thin, see-through plastic and it felt more like a driver’s license than a business card. On it was her name, Carissa Bee. It said she worked for some LLC Real Estate company, and boasted “over 10 million in residential sales in 2009.” As if the Bluetooth, Cadillac, and tight charcoal business suit didn’t give that away already.
“You’re a good person, I can just tell. It’s the way you talk I think. If you or anyone you know ever need a home in LA County, call me.” Carissa said with her big Realtor smile.
“I will, and thanks again for the ride.” He said, stepping out of the car and grabbing his pack from the back seat.
Darwin shut the door and adjusted the heavy pack on his shoulders, then looked through the open front window at his beautiful chauffeur. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“Ya know..... You could call me for a drink too, but try and dress a little nicer next time.” She said.
Before he could respond she was gone, stepping on the gas and blasting back onto the road. Watching her car accelerate down the PCH he was beside himself, not sure how to comprehend what had just happened. Darwin had always been told he was handsome, but never quite believed it. “I guess Carissa thought so too but still, who gives their phone number to a hitchhiker?” He thought. He wondered if she’d been coming on to him or not. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He smiled and started walking.
He’d gotten almost to the staircase at the pier when he noticed a car slowing behind him again. He didn’t have his thumb out this time, and looking back his heart sank. A black and white Crown Vic with LAPD on the door rolled to a stop at Darwin’s right. Remembering immediately the half ounce of pot he had in his pack, his sunken heart started beating a bit faster.
“Sir, hold on a minute. Where are you going?” The cop asked from the driver’s side window.
“Oh… I was just tryin to use the pier to cross the PCH, officer.” Darwin said tentatively.
“Figured, but you can’t.”
“Did I do something wrong sir?” he asked nervously, the knowledge of the pot in his pack giving him the feeling of water filling his lungs.
“I dunno, did you?” The officer asked stone-faced.
“No sir.”
Cracking a half smile, the officer spoke.
“You’re alright son, but some jackass pulled a gun up there a little while ago so you’re definitely not getting through that way.”
As he stood next to the cruiser unsure of how to proceed, the cop spoke again.
“Be careful crossing kid, I don’t give a fuck about jaywalking just don’t get hit.” And with that he continued to roll his squad car down the shoulder.
Darwin lifted his hand as the cruiser rolled away, and saw the cop flash a peace sign through the rear window. “Likewise” Darwin thought, smiling a bit.
The rest of the day was spent gathering applications from restaurants, bars, and a few pot clinics, with lunch at the India Jones chow truck. Not the best food, but not the most money either. With the sun about 3 hours from the ocean he called it a day. Walking back towards the coast he fingered the sharp plastic card he’d gotten earlier, wondering what the dating rules would say about this one. How do you ask a successful woman out for a drink when she met you on the side of the road? She told him to call he thought, so screw it.
Finding one of the few pay phones left on the planet wasn’t the easiest task, but it didn’t take too long. “I sure do love LA.” he thought, noticing the lewd graffiti scrawled on the side of the machine. Picking up the phone, an interesting smell emanated from the receiver. Two quarters later he was nervously dialing her number while flexing the card back and forth between his fingers. Clearing his throat, he heard it ring and then someone picked up.
“Hello?” The woman’s voice asked.
“Hi, is this Carissa?”
“Yup.”
“This is Darwin. I just wanted to call to thank you again for the lift cause it really made my day… Also, I wanted to ask about that drink.”
As he spoke, Darwin was sure he heard a deeper voice in the back round on Carissa’s end.
“Yea dad, that sounds great. How’s about you call me when you know where... Ok, that’s great… I love you too… Bye.” And she hung up.
Replacing the receiver, Darwin scratched his head. What the fuck was that all about? Today was shaping up to be pretty peculiar. Fairly excited and even more confused than before, He set off in search of a bar and some answers.
Might as well start off strong.
The following is a story I've been working on, lemme know whatchoo think :)
THE THEORY OF EVIL-UTION
Last night probably shouldn’t have happened, and the consequences were yet to be fully understood. Sure Darwin’s left hand and jaw were a bit sore, but he couldn’t skirt the sinking feeling that physical discomfort was the least of his worries. What provoked his response yesterday was still a mystery but one thing was certain, regret wasn’t present in his mind.
“Dude deserved it,” he thought, further justifying his actions. In reviewing what seemed to be a random chain of events leading to a swollen cheek and some really sore knuckles, Darwin realized yet again that alcohol was the devil. “At least it wasn’t his devil for once,” he thought, glad that headache, nausea, and a lack of memory weren’t a part of today’s pain. It was bittersweet. Darwin would gladly trade a massive hangover for his current situation.
Sitting in the hotel bar overhearing some jackass talk way too openly about the shape of his penis, Darwin was beside himself. It was fitting he thought, that even now at 10am, someone was oblivious to the fact that they were a piece of shit.
“What the fuck am I doing?” Darwin mumbled under his breath, catching the ear of the offensive fat bastard who was now explaining to his buddy “What a slut Daphne was.”
“Are you talking to me?” Fat boy asked tensing, ready to throw down even this early in the day.
Darwin wanted desperately to stuff his fist through this jerk’s face, but he thought better of it and lowered his gaze, nodding his head side to side while apologizing. He remembered his father; always the calm pacifist telling him, “I named you Darwin son. Be reasonable, be rational, always do your best to keep yourself firmly in reality.” Darwin quietly finished his Eggs Benedict, the staple of his “healthy” lifestyle, drank down the last of his orange juice, paid the disheveled waiter and was on his way.
The weather severely disagreed with Darwin’s mood. It was about 80 and sunny, a few wispy, see-through clouds floating near the horizon. His mind however was filled with massive thunderheads and a torrential downpour. It wasn’t depression, more like a mental cloudiness, jumbled thoughts swirling around seemingly disconnected from one another.
He left the dingy little hotel, if you could even call it that, and headed towards Washington Boulevard in Venice, maybe an hour’s walk. Darwin figured that if he was gonna score, Venice was the place to be. “These fucking celebrities get vicodin by the bucketful, and I’ve gotta walk 5 miles to even smell it” he thought, looking down at his outstretched hand, the knuckles raw and beginning to swell. Today was not gonna be good.
Darwin thought back to last night. Why had he let himself go like that? Kicking the fuzzy sycamore seeds that littered the sidewalks of Los Angeles, he began to rethink his mental state. He’d gone from 0 to ass-kicker in less than a minute and it scared him. The guy definitely deserved it; no one gets physical with a woman, no matter what. But was it really up to Darwin to be the great protector, using violence to defend this woman he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t ever see again? He replayed the experience that had provoked him. The back of that asshole’s hand coming down hard on the small girl’s cheek, her little yelp as she crumpled under the weight of the blow. He wondered how she looked today. “She had a black eye for sure,” he thought. He remembered how small she was, and decided that what he’d done last night was indeed right thing to do. Darwin put it out of his mind. There was the other issue though, the one that had Darwin all stormy-minded and edgy this morning.
Lying on his side, blood flowing freely from his forehead and mouth, the man on the receiving end of Darwin’s assault yesterday had issued a rather ominous threat. “I know you, Darwin! Don’t forget I can get your ass whenever I want motherfucker!” the man had spat through blood-red teeth. Darwin hadn’t known the guy from last night; at least he didn’t think he did. He had to admit though; during the previous life in LA, booze hadn’t been particularly kind to his memory. Not even back a month and already he had a reason to look over his shoulder. “Who was that guy?” he wondered, trying to picture a face minus all the blood. Darwin couldn’t do it. He hadn’t even taken the time to get a good look at the prick before he’d laid into him. “Well, better to be despised than forgotten” he thought half-jokingly. It’s not like HE was the asshole of the situation. Darwin couldn’t help but smile and let out a satisfied sigh, the memory of the frat boys and co-eds cheering him as he’d calmly gathered his coat and left the bar.
Nearing Venice, Darwin began to notice the occasional pusher. They sure didn’t do much to disguise themselves; tank tops, gaudy jewelry, baggy pants that looked about ready to hit the ground. He wandered past a few that looked more like the pot and coke kinda dealers. Not what he was interested in, at least not today. No, Darwin was looking for the pharmaceutical guys. They had a slightly different style; just a bit more put together, cleaner maybe, their intelligence just a little higher and their pants not quite as low and for some reason they were almost always Latin. Yea they were drug dealers too, but they served a different clientele and had to conform to a higher standard of customer service.
Eyeing a light-skinned Latino boy slouched against the wall of a bodega Darwin hesitated. He was sporting black chinos slightly low on his waist, the bright white tank top so tight Darwin could clearly make out the years of push-ups. His head was freshly shaven, and his eyes showed a certain confidence well beyond his age and economic situation. Darwin approached.
“Hey man, what’s up?” Darwin asked as casually as possible.
“Whatcha need?”
“Short and to the point” Darwin thought. He liked that in a drug dealer. He didn’t want to be pals, and he didn’t waste time with small talk. He just wanted to sell, and Darwin just wanted to buy. It worked out nicely that way.
“You got vikes?” Darwin asked?
“How many you need?” he countered, not missing a beat.
“How much for 10?”
“500 milligrams are 3 bucks a piece, 750’s are 4.”
“Lemme get ten 750’s.” Darwin replied.
“Alright, meet me over there in 5 minutes” the drug dealer said, motioning towards the entrance of the Mansfield hotel across the street.
With that Darwin nodded and walked off, feeling the normal awkwardness from the illicit conversation he had had so many times before. It was normal he thought, to feel some trepidation when doing something illegal, and this was definitely something illegal. Looking down at his hand, he noticed it had begun to turn purple. He touched his cheek and wondered if it was the same color.
THE THEORY OF EVIL-UTION
Last night probably shouldn’t have happened, and the consequences were yet to be fully understood. Sure Darwin’s left hand and jaw were a bit sore, but he couldn’t skirt the sinking feeling that physical discomfort was the least of his worries. What provoked his response yesterday was still a mystery but one thing was certain, regret wasn’t present in his mind.
“Dude deserved it,” he thought, further justifying his actions. In reviewing what seemed to be a random chain of events leading to a swollen cheek and some really sore knuckles, Darwin realized yet again that alcohol was the devil. “At least it wasn’t his devil for once,” he thought, glad that headache, nausea, and a lack of memory weren’t a part of today’s pain. It was bittersweet. Darwin would gladly trade a massive hangover for his current situation.
Sitting in the hotel bar overhearing some jackass talk way too openly about the shape of his penis, Darwin was beside himself. It was fitting he thought, that even now at 10am, someone was oblivious to the fact that they were a piece of shit.
“What the fuck am I doing?” Darwin mumbled under his breath, catching the ear of the offensive fat bastard who was now explaining to his buddy “What a slut Daphne was.”
“Are you talking to me?” Fat boy asked tensing, ready to throw down even this early in the day.
Darwin wanted desperately to stuff his fist through this jerk’s face, but he thought better of it and lowered his gaze, nodding his head side to side while apologizing. He remembered his father; always the calm pacifist telling him, “I named you Darwin son. Be reasonable, be rational, always do your best to keep yourself firmly in reality.” Darwin quietly finished his Eggs Benedict, the staple of his “healthy” lifestyle, drank down the last of his orange juice, paid the disheveled waiter and was on his way.
The weather severely disagreed with Darwin’s mood. It was about 80 and sunny, a few wispy, see-through clouds floating near the horizon. His mind however was filled with massive thunderheads and a torrential downpour. It wasn’t depression, more like a mental cloudiness, jumbled thoughts swirling around seemingly disconnected from one another.
He left the dingy little hotel, if you could even call it that, and headed towards Washington Boulevard in Venice, maybe an hour’s walk. Darwin figured that if he was gonna score, Venice was the place to be. “These fucking celebrities get vicodin by the bucketful, and I’ve gotta walk 5 miles to even smell it” he thought, looking down at his outstretched hand, the knuckles raw and beginning to swell. Today was not gonna be good.
Darwin thought back to last night. Why had he let himself go like that? Kicking the fuzzy sycamore seeds that littered the sidewalks of Los Angeles, he began to rethink his mental state. He’d gone from 0 to ass-kicker in less than a minute and it scared him. The guy definitely deserved it; no one gets physical with a woman, no matter what. But was it really up to Darwin to be the great protector, using violence to defend this woman he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t ever see again? He replayed the experience that had provoked him. The back of that asshole’s hand coming down hard on the small girl’s cheek, her little yelp as she crumpled under the weight of the blow. He wondered how she looked today. “She had a black eye for sure,” he thought. He remembered how small she was, and decided that what he’d done last night was indeed right thing to do. Darwin put it out of his mind. There was the other issue though, the one that had Darwin all stormy-minded and edgy this morning.
Lying on his side, blood flowing freely from his forehead and mouth, the man on the receiving end of Darwin’s assault yesterday had issued a rather ominous threat. “I know you, Darwin! Don’t forget I can get your ass whenever I want motherfucker!” the man had spat through blood-red teeth. Darwin hadn’t known the guy from last night; at least he didn’t think he did. He had to admit though; during the previous life in LA, booze hadn’t been particularly kind to his memory. Not even back a month and already he had a reason to look over his shoulder. “Who was that guy?” he wondered, trying to picture a face minus all the blood. Darwin couldn’t do it. He hadn’t even taken the time to get a good look at the prick before he’d laid into him. “Well, better to be despised than forgotten” he thought half-jokingly. It’s not like HE was the asshole of the situation. Darwin couldn’t help but smile and let out a satisfied sigh, the memory of the frat boys and co-eds cheering him as he’d calmly gathered his coat and left the bar.
Nearing Venice, Darwin began to notice the occasional pusher. They sure didn’t do much to disguise themselves; tank tops, gaudy jewelry, baggy pants that looked about ready to hit the ground. He wandered past a few that looked more like the pot and coke kinda dealers. Not what he was interested in, at least not today. No, Darwin was looking for the pharmaceutical guys. They had a slightly different style; just a bit more put together, cleaner maybe, their intelligence just a little higher and their pants not quite as low and for some reason they were almost always Latin. Yea they were drug dealers too, but they served a different clientele and had to conform to a higher standard of customer service.
Eyeing a light-skinned Latino boy slouched against the wall of a bodega Darwin hesitated. He was sporting black chinos slightly low on his waist, the bright white tank top so tight Darwin could clearly make out the years of push-ups. His head was freshly shaven, and his eyes showed a certain confidence well beyond his age and economic situation. Darwin approached.
“Hey man, what’s up?” Darwin asked as casually as possible.
“Whatcha need?”
“Short and to the point” Darwin thought. He liked that in a drug dealer. He didn’t want to be pals, and he didn’t waste time with small talk. He just wanted to sell, and Darwin just wanted to buy. It worked out nicely that way.
“You got vikes?” Darwin asked?
“How many you need?” he countered, not missing a beat.
“How much for 10?”
“500 milligrams are 3 bucks a piece, 750’s are 4.”
“Lemme get ten 750’s.” Darwin replied.
“Alright, meet me over there in 5 minutes” the drug dealer said, motioning towards the entrance of the Mansfield hotel across the street.
With that Darwin nodded and walked off, feeling the normal awkwardness from the illicit conversation he had had so many times before. It was normal he thought, to feel some trepidation when doing something illegal, and this was definitely something illegal. Looking down at his hand, he noticed it had begun to turn purple. He touched his cheek and wondered if it was the same color.
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