Chapter One, of whatever this will turn out to be…

This is just an excerpt from chapter one of a book I started scribbling years ago, which I may keep writing, or not, I don’t know. Be advised that there are probably numerous mistakes in the following excerpt. And there you have it, enjoy….

Chapter one…

This is turning out to be a long cold winter, and the meds barley seem to take the edge off. The flies and mice scurry and flit around everywhere, and it’s starting to really fucking irritate me. I’m too lazy to catch up with the laundry and the pain in my ear and jaw is currently bearable, but that can change at any time. It’s damn cold in here since the insulation in this apartment is poor at best, but it’s still better than nothing by far. I must say, I miss the house I once had. Even thought it was barely more than a handful of years ago, it seems like it’s been a lifetime since I left it. But that’s a long story for another time, maybe. None the less, I’m thankful for the flat I’m in now. I’ve had a few meaningless jobs here in this granite town since just before I left that house, having to also leave my job of 10 years at that time as well. Which was my own difficult choice. Although, I’ve often wondered these past few years, if it was the wrong one. My life here has become sedentary, and pretty much meaningless. A constant dysphoria. My credit is shot straight to hell, I owe thousands and I believe I’ve been sued. Not that I have anything to give. I have nothing. I have no house, no car, no savings, no assets, no rsp’s, abc’s or xyz’s. Nothing. My health isn’t even all that good either. I say (write) this as I’m having a cigarette and a shot of scotch I had left. From what I understand, this apartment is about 100 years old. I also get the feeling that some of the past occupants haven’t quite left entirely, yet. Any left over ‘spirit residue’ in any place, tends to want to mess with me when I’m asleep. The slight tug on the comforter, sometimes slow. The touching of my feet, or the pushing down of my pillow around my head. Or a sudden scent of something. Or even the half asleep visions. I’ve got loads of ’em. I also get the feeling that most of ‘them’ seem to be afraid of, or should I say ‘apprehensive’ of me, for some reason. Don’t know why. I don’t know, and really, I don’t care. It’s something I’m not overly interested in. Sure it’s fun to be curious about it from time to time, but most, if not all of the ‘Haunting’ shows with the ‘Ghost hunters’ goin’ in to ‘connect’ with a spirit, is just crap. Most ‘evidence’ can be explained, most, but not all. However, you see what you want to see. There is no such thing as psychics, or a spirit mediums. They’ve just convinced themselves that that’s the ‘power’ they have. Sure they have a ‘power’, but that’s not it. It’s something we all have to a point, something primal. Or more, maybe. OR, they’re just crazy, OR better yet, and this is what I tend to lean to in my opinion on the matter, they’re all con artists. People LOVE to believe in this stuff. But like I’ve said, I don’t really give a shit.
Anyway, I’ve got to find my shoes, I’m heading to ‘the Green’ to meet up with an old pal. Glancing to the corner by the door i see my shoes. My poor old leather shoes. These poor things have taken quite a beating over the last few years or more, since they are the only pair of shoes I have left. All others have worn out and aged to the state where they can no longer serve any real purpose. And some day, these, the last of the group, will one day fall by the wayside. Hopefully by then, I can afford another pair. They do, however, get a break during the summer, since I mostly wear sandals during the warmer season.

It’s quiet in here, except for the little round air purifier in the opposite corner. Filtering out the dusty air and cigarette smoke. I stretch over the end of the couch to turn it off, may as well turn it off. Getting off the couch after having put my shoes on my naked feet, I briefly wonder what this evenings rendezvous will produce. grabbing my keys and shoving them in my left pocket, I check to make sure the stove if off. a couple times. And the lights, and anything else that I wouldn’t want to be left on. Closing the door behind me as I step out into the hallway, I of course check to make sure the door is locked. A couple times. Walking down the hallway I see the kid that lives down the hall. He gives me a smile and a ‘Hi’ as I pass by. I nod, ‘hey, what’s up?’ ‘Not much’, he replies as I open the door to the stairs that takes me up to the lobby, and out the front door, into the sudden cold crisp air that shocks my system for a moment. I bundle up tighter and head out towards my destination…As I walk to my Friday night ritual rendezvous, my thoughts revisit the life and times I once had, and wonder if things actually happen for a reason. You see, I miss being on top of the world, although, at the time I didn’t realize that I was. Maybe it’s just something I should just learn to let go of, and just keep moving forward. But I’ll say this, looking back, present and to the future, pleasant or not, good decisions and bad,….it all fits together. Like an inter-dimensional puzzle, which isn’t just one puzzle but an infinite. And each puzzle is another piece to and even greater puzzle. Which in the ‘end’, never ends buts transforms. Reusing the same or similar pieces that are altered, with time, and not with time. Every piece is delicate, and changes to ‘fit’, which then alters the pieces ahead of it. Or does it? How would you know? Maybe Deja Vu isn’t just a coincidence, or a similar memory in the brain altered to fit the moment making you think you’ve been in the moment before (deja vu happens in cycles for me, there’s a period of time with nothing, then a period of time with frequent ‘memories’). Maybe it tells you that you’ve been in/’put together’ this ‘puzzle’ before. In a puzzle that gets put back together over and over again, slightly altered, in a ‘time frame‘ (or dimensional existence, for lack of a better term.) that you cannot possibly comprehend. No, actually think of it this way maybe, you have a giant block of whatever, and you are moving it ‘forward’ by rolling it on logs. Therefore, of course, you take the last log rolled over and put it at the front (this being a weak metaphor for ‘the puzzle’, but hopefully you can see what I’m saying. Taking the pieces from the ‘past’ and ‘fitting’ them into the ‘future’ over the incomprehensible time, which isn’t linear). If you can’t tell, I’m in favour of the ‘big bang’ theory. Maybe it all does happen for a reason, and I’ve learned that ‘universal’ Karma is quite a powerful, subtle force.

As I turn the corner on to Waterside street, my meandering thoughts that seem to barely make sense, have made the trek to my destination seem shorter. Since I now climb the steps to enter the doors of ‘the Green’…


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