-Martin Booth
THE INDUSTRY OF SOULS, a novel
April 15, 1983
Today is a wonderful Spring Day. I am wearing my aqua Calvin Klein jeans and a purple thermal shirt from Hawaii. Jackie Woods gave me the idea for the outfit. I also wore my REVIEW button I received from STAR GAZE.
I took a nap after work. Dad wouldn’t let me watch the taped version of EDGE OF NIGHT that mom left for me. And so, I woke up and felt like a drive to anywhere but there.
I cruised in my car over to Walnut Creek to a bar called THE HUB. I was propositioned by some guy who worked at AMTRAK. I call him the Railroad nerd. I left after a couple of burgundy wine coolers.
As I was leaving I met some twenty year old guy named Steve. He’s a hairdresser, of course.
Steve remarked, “I’d love to body wave your hair.”
I gave him my telephone number.
“I like the pizzazz of your car,” Steve added.
When his boss came by he gave me a very outgoing ‘goodbye’. I could feel him undressing me with his eyes.
I had to get THE HUB experience out of my system, so I stopped at the BLACK ANGUS in Walnut Creek. I used the bathroom there and listened to the live band for a while. No one looked very enticing, so I left.
When I returned home I watched some talk show with dad. The subject was LONELINESS. They talked about how to cope with it. As I ate some leftover chicken and a roll I listened to the advice.
The authority on loneliness said, “One must avoid television and singles bars but organize time for other social activities with friends. Friends in your apartment, church gatherings, school or class outings or even concerts are good. You’ll be more apt to meet people that way that have some of your same interests.”
I thought, “I guess that’s why I like bike riding—but I don’t meet many people that way with the exception of a wave or ‘hi’ and bye as I cruise past them.”
However, I did meet Paige while on my bike in Sacramento. Interesting.
As they held each other’s hands, there passed between them the understanding of their history together, of the life that had been theirs. It settled on them like fine dust.
-Shyam Selvadurai
CINNAMON GARDENS, a novel
0 comments:
Post a Comment