Spout on Summer Sunday at Six

8 Jan

Rewind. It’s 10:30 on Saturday night. I took a nap and walked the dog, Brian’s still in the shower, so it’s Burger King fries because fat is still fuel. At Brian’s house, Ian’s found. Cups in the car and demon friend in tow (lunch bag style, my unwavering companion). At the venue we meet our friends and dance, dance, dance. Trance and bud move seamlessly through my system. He has a joint, no one else wants it so we go outside, and a roach is spared in his chest pocket. Back to dance, we make new friends. Two go home, we are Brian, Ian and me for salmon, crab legs, and eel. Back at the apartment we require a bigger apparatus, and take care of head. When restlessness kicks in, I get to church for rock n roll minus the sex. Bar manager and me plus joint, then it’s truly quite late. We agree we’ll meet outside the lot, but I get lost. Inside the garage, I try to pay for my parking, but the machine gives me a freebie. Find my way only to realize I have no gas. 24hr tow truck directs me to an open gas station; I’m saved. Inside I get a sandwich and a coffee, only to come out and see the truck driver waiting for me. He followed me. “My name’s Julian. Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything, at any time.” “Hey, can I call you now? I can’t get the gas to pump.” He does it for me. Good night forever, Julian. I’m driving away as I notice a kid standing on the side of road, in the rain, exactly where he was when I got there 20 minutes earlier. Shit. He looks feeble. “Excuse me, are you waiting for a ride?” “Umm I’m hoping for one.” “Where are you going?” “Allston” “OK, I’m going there too. Wanna hop in?” Hesitation. “I don’t want sex or money, I’m just offering you a ride.” “Yea, of course, thank you.” He’s 19 years old, plays bass in a band, but can’t seem to name a single musician as influence. I drive him home, turn around and get to Ash’s place. Waiting outside, Russell from apartment 1 and I become friends over a shared cigarette. Inside, karaoke machine doesn’t work, but hunger speaks loudly and we make: a hummus, baby carrot, tomatoes, cheese and olives wrap. One by one they drop, drool is complimentary but the delivery arrives and finally the mission is accomplished. I am fed. Drive home here I am, it’s 6am.


One Response to “Spout on Summer Sunday at Six”

  1. inna January 8, 2010 at 14:18 #


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