Post by Seimenk on Sept 2, 2009 3:49:27 GMT -5
Watch the day burn away, down to the last little nub like the last of a hand rolled cigarette. Watch the slow evolution of customers as they come and go. Watch the way the shadows play and the light bend as the sun moves across the sky. Listen to the conversation, but dont interject.
Read if you like, lay out a scroll, or read a book, yes -crack the spine and lay it flat on the table. Read. Dont just pretend to read, but be sure to look up often. Its not about dulling your senses, but in fact becoming more aware, more alert. Its not about getting happy, or sloppy, but about being neat and businesslike, small in affect. Drink, but dont eat. Whiskey, a beer if you must, gin too -but dont put anything sweet in it. No ice either, it'll take a long time, and if you let the ice melt before you finish everything'll get watered down. No good. The best time to start, is 2:30, when the bar tender is wiping down glasses, and the bar is quiet.
When a friend walks in, or a pretty girl comes over dont demur, just accept it. Just live with it. It is an undeniable fact, that its over. Its gone. You cant get it back today, try it again tommorow. Say hello to them, converse, then at an apropriate juncture-leave. Leave and give them, what you came in for. The meditative experience of drinking alone. Solitude with liquor. Theres no shame in it.
Nobufusa actually leaned back in his chair, a rare thing for him, and turned to the window. The winds were picking up the dust from the streets, and giving the sky an filthy dun. It reminded him of the whiskey in his glass really. Especially the way the rays of the sun passed through the cloud lazily like the light through his glass and amber bottles on the counter. He watched people go about their afternoon. He wondered where they were going, and with what. But they hardly mattered now, he was too busy drinking alone.
No, that was lie. They were the most important thing, in all of this. They were the only thing. They were in the middle of a war they didn't know about, couldn't fight, and couldn't run away. They were in the game, but they weren't players. Dying wasn't anyway out, contrary to their beliefs, nothing was linear. Everything went around in circles, and whoever could call themselves god at the end of all of this? They were going to be the ones to make the rules. If he weren't a player, he'd just have to live through this, endure this without the ignorant bliss they were priviledged with. Were they lucky or unlucky? He couldn't tell. In either case, he was a player. He was amongst few the people who could make or break things.
Then why was he in here? Why wasn''t out, seeing action? No reason, except to be able to think. If he had unlimited time, and knew all the people involved, he doubted he could come to a decision. Indeed, the hardest thing in the world is choice. But time was running out, and he was in the dark, the other major players yet to reveal themselves. They and he together, by virtue of their actions, would decide whether they had days, weeks, months, or years. He would have to wait and see what they would do, endure through the anxiety of not knowing what they would do, or when they would do it, until it was already done. It wasn't something he wasn't used to. But...it was always easier when there was nothing you could do. But then there was the feeling of helplesness, that came with giving up the problem of choice. So really, it was the same either way.
"...No different."
Read if you like, lay out a scroll, or read a book, yes -crack the spine and lay it flat on the table. Read. Dont just pretend to read, but be sure to look up often. Its not about dulling your senses, but in fact becoming more aware, more alert. Its not about getting happy, or sloppy, but about being neat and businesslike, small in affect. Drink, but dont eat. Whiskey, a beer if you must, gin too -but dont put anything sweet in it. No ice either, it'll take a long time, and if you let the ice melt before you finish everything'll get watered down. No good. The best time to start, is 2:30, when the bar tender is wiping down glasses, and the bar is quiet.
When a friend walks in, or a pretty girl comes over dont demur, just accept it. Just live with it. It is an undeniable fact, that its over. Its gone. You cant get it back today, try it again tommorow. Say hello to them, converse, then at an apropriate juncture-leave. Leave and give them, what you came in for. The meditative experience of drinking alone. Solitude with liquor. Theres no shame in it.
Nobufusa actually leaned back in his chair, a rare thing for him, and turned to the window. The winds were picking up the dust from the streets, and giving the sky an filthy dun. It reminded him of the whiskey in his glass really. Especially the way the rays of the sun passed through the cloud lazily like the light through his glass and amber bottles on the counter. He watched people go about their afternoon. He wondered where they were going, and with what. But they hardly mattered now, he was too busy drinking alone.
No, that was lie. They were the most important thing, in all of this. They were the only thing. They were in the middle of a war they didn't know about, couldn't fight, and couldn't run away. They were in the game, but they weren't players. Dying wasn't anyway out, contrary to their beliefs, nothing was linear. Everything went around in circles, and whoever could call themselves god at the end of all of this? They were going to be the ones to make the rules. If he weren't a player, he'd just have to live through this, endure this without the ignorant bliss they were priviledged with. Were they lucky or unlucky? He couldn't tell. In either case, he was a player. He was amongst few the people who could make or break things.
Then why was he in here? Why wasn''t out, seeing action? No reason, except to be able to think. If he had unlimited time, and knew all the people involved, he doubted he could come to a decision. Indeed, the hardest thing in the world is choice. But time was running out, and he was in the dark, the other major players yet to reveal themselves. They and he together, by virtue of their actions, would decide whether they had days, weeks, months, or years. He would have to wait and see what they would do, endure through the anxiety of not knowing what they would do, or when they would do it, until it was already done. It wasn't something he wasn't used to. But...it was always easier when there was nothing you could do. But then there was the feeling of helplesness, that came with giving up the problem of choice. So really, it was the same either way.
"...No different."