Racking up

What is on my mind cannot be explained at this moment for I cannot seem to pull the words out my thoughts. I sit here on this stool surrounded by this chaos as I have time and time before, yet rather than deciphering what is weighing on my mind all I have is chaos. All I can say is that there is a bit of sadness lingering and it is very much like the feeling you can get when you are trying to remember a word or name but all you can grasp is blanks. I could just ramble on about more Pokémon or innocent babies, or even how both my faith and my patience are tested on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. I feel that although such issues would put words in place of this white screen it would just be as empty as the thought I am trying to retrieve. For now I will just sit here within this madness and try to let the chaos pull apart my mind.

This attractive woman just walked in with her male companion, husband or boyfriend I’m sure. They are led to a booth across the room and I can’t help but notice how thin this woman is. She must be somewhere between 24 and 40, it’s hard to gauge due to the lack of muscle tone. She does have a real pleasant face and a smile that causes her eyes to light up. It makes me wonder what terrible event or over controlling, over compensating pompous ass caused her to feel that she was not perfect enough. It isn’t likely that the fella she is with tonight is the source of her insecurities because he tends to her gently and he did take her to a restaurant and they are ordering food. It still tears me up to know that someone or something caused by someone made this woman deprive herself of the nutrients she needs to live a healthy life.

My focus shifted swiftly to a ruckus caused by this fella sitting two stools down from me. Speaking of a “pompous ass”, this guy who apparently spends way too much time watching televisions and low rated movies was giving the bar keep a hard time because the keep accidentally knocked over a mostly empty bottle and in doing so a few drops landed on this guy’s arm, which you could tell hasn’t seen the sun ever.  This guy, for this purpose I’ll call him George only because I really don’t care who he is and I don’t want to be friends. George insisted that the bar keep buy him a beer for this major event. I feel as if I barely missed a flood or something considering how this guy was reacting.

The bar keep agreed to keep this idiot from causing a riot so he offered him a free beer, at which George asked for a Scotch! Really, a Scotch?! You go to a pub style ale house and want a free scotch, you dumbass fake! Any “REAL” scotch drinker would not favor the one cheap bottle of scotch found at a place that specializes in burgers and beer. Needless to say the keeper told him he could have a beer and not anything else. Fitting enough George ordered some gourmet beer from some weird place that sounded exotic and the drink came in a fancy glass. The bar keep offered George a towel to dry off his “soaked” arm but George would not be allowed the events to be worsened by using a filthy rag from some peasant.

He obviously could not determine where exactly the droplets of beer landed on his fragile arm because he took that over-sized sanitary wipe used for people eating ribs and washed his arm from fingertip to half way to where his bicep should have been, twice. Then he took a dinner napkin and thoroughly dried his arm off, still talking about movies and actors that only theatre majors would know or even care about. Those few drops of real beer on his arm must have soaked into his blood stream because he is starting to get loud and courageous. “No body in here is fun but me!” he cried and I felt that my younger irresponsible self would have liked to take him by his little alligator embroidered polo shirt collar and show him how much fun he will be outside, but that would be unnecessary and immature.

In between the fake techno laughs, I heard the knocking of clay balls and noticed that there was a couple shooting pool on the only table in the joint. She was a redhead and I could tell that this was “date-night” so they must be married trying to keep it alive. Neither of them can drop any pockets all that well in regards to the game. She doesn’t care, you can tell by the way she holds herself that she is just enjoying the moment that reminds her of years past. Its her turn and it looks as if she has a clear shot, but … she missed it. As she claims it was close and a difficult shot you can tell by how she missed and walked off that she is only trying to make those few quarters last as long as she can because diner is done and when the eight ball drops it will be time to head back home to their normal lives. Surprising move she orders him a shot and now with things to spice up the night maybe she can hold on to her lost love a little longer. Now he shoots and misses again, and she steps up and looks for the most unlikely target and will certainly bounce it off the banks of the table and just watch it roll around.

The attractive thin woman and her friend are all done their dinner as they walk past and head out into the night. She looks so frail and weak it saddens me just to see her walk, each step is slow and unstable as if she is walking on stilts. I could be of base with her, maybe she has cancer or some other life threatening disease. Maybe she is recovering from a long battle with treatments that caused her muscles to break down. I don’t know for sure but I have seen battered women before and she has the behavior of a woman who is recovering from some life threatening abuser. I pray she will find solace and the strength to rebuild her life regardless of the cause of her insecurities.

Speaking of insecurities, the female he was failing to woo finally left and his heartbroken courage began to sound much like a calf lost in the pasture. Now he claims that only he and his now lost love were the only fun people in the joint. I’m telling you I’m really close to wanting to have some fun. I have had almost just enough wine with this meal, I come here for the chaos because ironically it helps filter out my thoughts. I just sit here and eat my burger and watch people behave, listen to the noise, and static in my head usually clears up and I can think. Nope, not tonight … tonight my weekly session holding up this corner of the bar is just not working. I can feel my blood begin to boil and all because this pencil neck hasn’t been taught how to act respectfully in a social environment.

Well the clacking of the sticks hitting the table mean that the shot glass is empty and the eight ball was dropped into a pocket, her doing I’m sure because he wasn’t even holding the pool stick correctly and she knew it and didn’t care. Well, George that there is divine intervention for you, I’m going to pay my tab and shoot a couple games of pool then head off into the darkness. As I walk away I felt compelled to bid my farewell to my new friend George. I walked up to him and grabbed his shoulder and merely instructed to him “you may want to think a little more about the words that come out of your mouth that make you look like an idiot.” With that Clint Eastwood style advise I waved off to the bar keeper as a sign that I was good and George was safe … now. George had to think quietly about what I said and as I walked off I could hear him whimper a simple “thanks”. Normally that would just push me over the edge because when a man tells you something that you need to do to prevent a situation the last thing you do is respond.

The table is empty and I have eight quarters so I’m gonna play two games and forget about George, try to forget about the attractive thin woman and the burden she is carrying, and the married couple who are trying to keep things alive. I never did find what it was weighing on my mind and that kind of irritates me, well maybe I’m already irritated, or maybe the pressure on my mind and my inability to decipher it is what cause my short temper-ness to begin with. Who knows, I come here to figure a few thing out and I will leave here with things still heavy on my mind. This blogging thing certainly helps me clear my head but tonight I can’t seem to find anything worth blogging about. So enough typing and venting, its time to rack-em up and shoot them in then follow the yellow lines back home.