Fear and Loathing in San Rafael

The thoughts come and go; some are pleasant, but most are pathetic. Someone in the room mentioned Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow, and I started thinking of Las Vegas. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. That was a good movie. Momentarily inspired, I scrap what I was writing and title a new piece.

I start writing, but I'm interrupted by a call, then another, as if someone or something is trying to prevent this from happening.

Well, in my case, something always is.

I continue, trying to pick up the thread, but it eludes me. I keep thinking of other things, like the ocean.

I drift into half sleep. I flirt with the waves of unconsciousness. My eyelids grow heavy with sleep, and I start swimming in the ocean...

I am wrenched back into reality. The voice of a man. Another call. How I hate these interruptions; how I would love to just hang up and leave. Just leave. But I don't, I move on.

My mind starts drifting again. I dream of things to come. I dream of paper, red paper. Sheets of magenta. Where is this going, I think to myself, but I don't have an answer. Oh this can't be good.

I ease myself out of my slouch. I smell my own breath, I grimace with disgust. It smells of failure. I swallow, stale cigarette smoke laced in my saliva, the bitterness of inadequacy...

Another call.

I take a swig of water, as if to wash down the vile taste. It doesn't, but I knew it wouldn't.

The boredom is excruciating. So my mind wanders some more, only to be interrupted again, and again, and again.

I stop writing, close my eyes and dream.

I dream of a girl, with long black hair. She doesn't look at me. I don't see her face, yet I know her. She starts to grow. She suddenly points at the wall and I look. She's pointing at a mirror and in it, I see her face, pale, young. I, then, see myself in the same mirror. I'm driving a luxury convertible.

I think of a wheelchair.

The ocean again. I'm swimming underwater, through a tunnel, trying to get to the other side. The other side of what I'm not quite sure, but I am swimming, and swiftly, until I reach a metal gate. Fear starts to root itself in my heart, but I pass through the metal bars easily.

***

Bursts of white light are flashing behind a red curtain. I open my eyes to see it better but it's gone. I close my eyes again and just for a brief moment, I can see them and then reality reasserts itself in my mind, and they're gone for good.

In a distance, someone is smoking a cigarette. The smell of the burning tobacco takes me places I've never imagined. The flood of thought comes crashing in, too fast to be recorded.

I give up; I go back to work.

3, 2, 3, 1, yes, yes.

No, Not applicable, 3, 1, 2...

Data entry is not what it used to be.


—San Rafael CA, August 2004