Another Lost Day

Today is Joyce.

My extra day has been spent drifting aimlessly up and down heavily cobble-stoned streets. I’ve no notion which is where or when is what, and was left to wander as a rudderless ship in the wind. Positively nothing of note, nothing to occasion my stopping even for a moment. Places that concern themselves with stagnant life are of course superior in more respectable manners, but I failed to see anything that would have helped me here. I have crossed it off my list without uttering a word from my mouth, and I think few places can be so insulted justly. I set my feet to their path at a leisurely 2pm, and was convinced of my assertions almost as soon as I had intersected the river. As i crossed, I looked down into the bog, and searched for signs beyond the murk. It flowed heavily like you would expect mud in such wicked abundance. And then, tipping my head over the rails, captured an inhale until I had filled myself up.

They can keep it.

Having spent my day thuslyl, I turned into an eatery that served such dishes as were of want elsewhere. Laying down rump, I soon was presented a breast and a wing. That is, the latters being of a mallard and the former of my own person. I can say the meat was tender and the grease at a succulent medium. Truly, I had found a chef well versed in his dish, and at the waiter’s suggestion, tried a beer which only keener and more perceptive eyes than mine could pierce. It’s a combination I don’t think I shall soon let go, for a happy ending to a misery is not quickly forgot, and the deeper the wallow, in like wise the deeper the impression.

I had occassion to glance about as I ate hungrily, and tried to discern my fellow patrons. Immediately on my interest was a heavily tattooed and muscled man with his arm possessively around a woman half his width, both listening with intent to one of her friends continue on, the subject of their converse I was unable to detect. I briefly contemplated the relationship here, and pictured him breaking her near in two, suffocating her under him with only the sheets and pillows to absorb her. There was no smile upon his face as he held his arm around her, and he seemed ill at ease. Does he cry afterwards?

I gave less thought to the rest, as I could easily discern their nature, with such noise about them and such intent to be night impregnable. They were paired like stationary globes of water on a metal sheet, and I the single bit of oil seeping amongst them. I left them to their mixing. and took another path which I deliberately knew not where. The strange names are equally impregnable, and our host got a chuckle as we tried to pronounce them. I pulled a sharp corner throuhg a thick wooden door and found a sparse bar with similarly paired people, yet an open seat at the counter betwixt a tendress and a fellow somewhat older than myself. The lady was busying herself with the soundtrack of the establishment, for it emanated from a laptop behind the counter, and the fellow raised his glass once I had it and we had connected eyes.

The drinks itself was one worth note, the conversation which the fellow started to practice his English less to. I should count myself among the lightly blessed that I had one with a good taste on my tongue to counteract the bad one in my mouth. He continued on at first about where he was from, asking me the same, and generally being of a pleasant persusion. The woman joined in, for the patrons were quiet, and for an hour or two we had it well, myself going through at least three drinks, they still being of decent price despite the coming conversion, and I even had a few songs played at request.

After this agreeable chapter, however, the conversation had occasion to die, but the fellow would not let it. He told me far more than I cared to know, and far more than I offered in return. He told me of the rivals of his hometown, a time his father occasioned to meet the current minister of something or another, how he had come to be here. I had noticed his drinks outpaced mine near three to one. When I fell silent, and stopped meeting his eyes, and failed to cover my yawns, and fell to producing other like symbols a man of intelligence should quite easily unwrap, his determination saw him through. It was clear to me that he would not do, not in the slightest.

This was further proven to mewhen we occasioned to visit the bathroom alongside each other. We chose two adjacent urinals, for there being no others available, I chanced to see him looking down with no interruption as he conducted himself. Men of this sort are often trying to manage everything about themselves, I find, and they dislike letting things they know of pass by them unseen or undabbled upon. Admittedly, looking up is little better. No, he would not do at all.

As we returned to the counter, he fished his tobacco from his pocket and asking the woman to watch his things, stepped out for a puff, and soon became side tracked by some commotion outside. During this time, I spoke extensively to the tendress. While we got on well enough, she amiably mentioned her boyfriend. She did so quite late in the conversation, and so did not dislike my company, but did so in such a deliberate manner that the bare meaning was the same. Not being of an unscrupulous manner and what I consider a fine upbringing, I spoke to her ten minutes further to sign that no harm was intended, and conveniently slipped from my stool as the man was returning. I hailed a taxi, even though it wasn’t far back and I confirmed with the window that I had known the way.

On the way in, Ruzyně was inexplicably empty, from the baggage claim to the unstaffed Duty Free shop. I have no misconceptions that it will be equally lonely and forgotten when I return tomorrow. There is only home to look forward to. Another city and another day of my life crossed off a finite list. Oh, God, I cannot wait for the end of this damnable business. I can only hope that twelve years served is not too long.

Tomorrow, I think, shall be Twain, because I can’t understand a damn word Joyce says.

One response to “Another Lost Day

  1. Hey everyone, this is my friend, Schuyler! He is awesome.

    And this is great, and tomorrow should always be Twain.

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