Monday, September 29, 2014

A String Of Memories. (Luckiest Fucker There Ever Was)

Big night. It was a big night. Daylight now and a headful of crashing thoughts that are either dreams or memories. What actually happened? That girl with the eyebrows, that conversation, that thing that was so fascinating, that bit when you found your stride and your talk caused hilarity... was it real or creations of the dream engine?

Luxurious stretch. A groan of pleasure and relief. Dodged a bullet. There will be no hangover today, just more of the same. It's almost lunchtime, almost booze time, almost time to start the ride all over again. More talk and more laughter because it's all so short and carp diem, motherfuckers.

You're in the second bedroom again. Starfishing it in your own bed, this pillow the best fucking pillow in forever.

Your eyes hummingbird open and you see a string of memories droop-hanging on the wall. There is Santorini and Andalucia and Ann and Annye. There is Gaudi and The Acropolis
, Vesuvius and Via del Amore with its locks of love and promises so pure. There's a golden tunnel in an almost forgotten Italian coastal town (was this where Gore Vidal lived?) where you once saw an A-list Hollywood actor. There is a dance festival called Boom where you've danced and swum naked and laughed with friends. Twice. And you could make it three times, maybe more before you die.

And back to those blues and whites of Santorini and that sunset that seems impossible. Your lover next door. She who made this string of memories, and hung them drooping on the wall.

The barbarians are bearing down, but right now in these slow trickling moments, you know you have seen amazing things and have a string of memories that no one can take away.

And you know you are the luckiest fucker there ever was.


Bright Precious said...

Lucky indeed. I love this, Lee. There's something so touching about capturing nostalgia in writing.

Lee Bemrose said...

Thanks Deb. I should refine, but I just get in a mood and these things come out in their rawness.

I plan to take a photo of the string of memories tomorrow.