From Drowning in Rivers to Drops

I was struggling not to punch Lars in the back of the head when he told me:

"Don't let us hold you back, go ahead, have a great time."

Tthe other members of my house nodded slowly, sitting dilated in front of a television box. I sighed in disgust, the sigh of man who had not had a television for a while and does not understand anymore the homely warmth of being fed while your mouth and belly is full.

"Very well, Lars. So it goes." I said, and pulled on my purple jacket. They didn't acknowledge me, and I suppose it was best because sometimes I get like this-all fed up and angry at everything and everyone around me, and the ones who know me well know that the best way to deal with it is to let me feed off it until it burns me out and I'm placid again. But right now I was red.

I hopped onto a bike from the garage and bolted out into the dark rain of the evening. I was curious as to the effect the rain would have on my purple jacket which seemed to be made of felt, but I naively believed that I could just bike fast enough to avoid the rain.

I stopped at a local AM/PM mini market to buy cheap tobacco in a pouch and an alcoholic energy drink. I felt the urge to poison my body in any way possible, to destroy everything and anything that was beautiful. The freezing rain wrapping its fingers around my body dampened my hate for everything in this forsaken town on the edge of the western forest, and everyone in it. And mostly myself, for having risked everything for boardwalk, but landing on park place which I already owned.

I bought my poisons and started to unlock my bike, digging for the keys which were caught somewhere in my already soaking wet pants. I rode until the devil stopped chasing me. I lost him under a bridge which occasionally dotted the Northwest bike paths as roads roared overhead.

I fished a soggy phone out of my pocket and called Jessika. I made a silent promise to myself that I wouldn't let her know how abysmal all this was. What friend unloads all his cynical sadness upon the other? Why would she even answer? Lovely Jess, who was wise enough not to follow me out here into this pine smelling mess. Lovely Jess, somewhere with her life together, quiet with out unpublished poets drinking themselves to death knocking on her door asking if she'd like a shot.

The phone rang and rang, and of course she answered, because sometimes the divine do answer your calls. And I didn't mention once anything overwhelmingly negative, but instead used my only talent to paint bright praise of this place, as I sat under a soggy bridge, edging away from the growing puddle approaching my feet aided by the sleeting rain.

We said our goodbyes, myself promising to finish my book and I hung up. Called Kevin, whom I had met at a halloween warehouse party. This was before I knew he had warrants out for his arrest in California and Iowa. They were only drug warrants. Relax, this is a common thing in the Northwest. I fell in love with a woman who fled to Alaska to avoid warrants in California.

"Hey man, it's #&^^, we met at that Halloween warhouse party."

"Huh?"

"With the fire dancers. Out front. My buddy was playing "Peaches in Regalia"."

"Oh yeah...poet, right? From Minnesota?"

"Massachusetts."

"Right. Right on. What's up?"

"I'm going down to Max's tonight. Wanna get drunk?"

"Man," he said, after I knew he was thinking about it. "I made a promise to myself. I promised that I wouldn't get drunk for a week."

"Bummer." I replied, watching the rancid water crawl towards my wet feet. I backed away a few more feet, closer to the end of the bridge and the pouring rain. This would be a reoccurring theme during the next 9 months or so.

"Not only that," Kevin continued, "but I'm not smoking. Bud, tobacco, white, dmt, anything. Or sugar. Or caffeine. None of it. I'm going completely sober for a week. I've been fucked up for so long, this is going to be good. It's going to be like I'm fucked up."

"Damn, man." I said, backing up further away from the shelter of the bridge. The river was overflowing. "Well, I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, man. But I might be there later."

"Huh?" I said. I could barely here him over the flowing water.

"I'll probably be at Max's around eleven or so. I've got something you'll probably dig."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Yeah, you'll definitely like it. Someone with a mind like yours, you'll love it. See ya then." He hung up.

I sat confused, but then I realized the puddle had reached my left toe. I slipped my phone back into my soggy pants and mounted my wet bike. I rode into the rain, trying to go fast enough to avoid the rain. Full speed towards Max's.