84 takes a lifetime. (Day 112)

I didn't really get too much accomplished on the book front yesterday. I didn't want to be a lousy host again like I was the other day when I wrote four chapters while they sat wondering why this computer had my attention.

I wound up completing a good portion of chapter 10. The next few chapters will probably take longer than I had thought the day before because they are going to be a bit longer, but that's okay. I'm happy to take the time and make sure it's better than just me throwing words at the screen and seeing what sticks. I mean, I basically do that anyway, but at least this time it might not appear to be like that.

So here's a snippet.


Chapter 10:

Walking Spanish

Her name is Holly, and she's a Go-Go dancer. I had no idea that Go-Go dancers still existed.
She tells me of these parties they get paid to go and shake their asses. She tells me that
as Conservative as Republican's want you to think they are, they won't even think twice about
spending tax payers money; Money that some poor bastard sweat and toiled over to just give
away without their consent. They have no qualms about burying that money between a girls tits
when she's shaking them to Usher. And, I'll be very surprised to know that these old guys
are pretty up-to-date on the modern hip hop landscape, as they'll request Ice Cubes "You Can
Do It" while grinding hard on a girl in a silver dress and roller skates' ass.

I'll learn that she once wanted to be a doctor, but the money is too good. I'll learn that
she hasn't had a cheeseburger since the Twin Towers fell, and that she often wakes up in the
bedroom of a millionaires mansion wondering how she got there, and why she never became a
doctor. She'll then remember that she got paid eight thousand dollars last night for discretion,
and the wondering will cease quickly.

I'll learn that methamphetamine is a horrible drug, and every day it takes a bit more concealer
to cover up these brutal mistakes. I'll learn that her bosses' prescribe it to her, because
thin is always in, and metabolism is too slow. I'll learn that she still sleeps with a teddy
bear he daddy gave to her when she was a kid, and they went to a carnival in Burbank. I'll
learn that every day she grows a little more numb, but the words "Los Angeles" never seem to
stop stinging.

She's got a tear in her eye. She has no idea why she's confessing this to a stranger, but she
can just sense that I'm the one person she's going to meet tonight that isn't going to try
and fuck her in a bathroom stall. That I'm going to be the one person tonight that doesn't
see her as meat, as an easy target. I'm going to learn that Holly isn't her real name, that
her real name is "too ugly for the consumer" (Bernice), and that most evenings she finds herself
envying strippers because at least they get lunch breaks.

She's going to squeeze my arm and thank me. I'm going to thank her, and tell her that I know
I'm never going to forget her. That I hope she does become a doctor. She gets up to leave the
bus, and someone who's felt like a life long friend will never be seen again. She's going to
say, "Somehow I doubt you'll ever remember me." and that's going to be the saddest thing I've
heard in years.

I'm going to sit there on the dark bus as it pulls away, and I see her meet up with co-workers
and they go off into the unknown places of what's a passing memory. I'm going to sit in my
seat and stare out the window for hours and pray for the end of the world. I can't stop
cursing my amazement that this world is always constantly revolving, yet we continue to stand
in reverence of pop culture instead of the duration of existence. I'm going to hate the
sensations crawling on my skin in knowing that there's something that exists in this world as
an ugly name, and that it's not good for business. I'm going to sit here and hate the fact that
sometimes you don't even care to learn a name, period. It's just a place to bury yourself in
and when the morning comes you can just walk away and brag to friends about how flexible she
was. I'm going to hate the fact that daddy's little girl, his pride and joy, now showers to
forget. That daddy's little girl is now the recipient of someones callous and care free, somehow
couldn't care less attitude. I'm going to hate that somewhere in the night right now, daddy's
little girl is going to plaster on a fake smile and shake her ass for tips.


-Until tomorrow.