dirtdominion98

[dirtdominion98]

the city

volume 5

there was a whore hollering a man at the circle Centre. she had greying red hair, and false teeth. she loved the tar she sat on, and i don't think she was even aware that she was a whore. it was a hot day, and the sun made a sea of heatwaves which the businessmen navigated like sharks. the circle was busy and the whore, whose life had felt long, was admiring the shrubbery in her free time. she had obviously just come from a wild night. she smelt like blood, and i couldn't take my eyes off of her. 

her expression was a an amalgamation of of emotions like fear, disgust and a divine knowledge which many would never know. what type of creatures did that face summon. I didn't want to offend her, but my thirst for insight, was overwhelming. I haven't seen her since. she has probably been avoiding writers for a very long time. i could share my horrors too, if i ever got the chance. i just hoped my circumstances weren't subject to disregard. many women loved to do that. they like to underestimate that their actions could have mirrored reactions. it is the lonely that ruin things. people that have lost touch. people who are given fake credit, are usually the ones to make bad choices.

a whore cant lie, in those ways, because promiscuity is their profession. I wouldn't mind befriending the red haired dame. who once might have though she would make a good secretary, but instead chose something more romantic. not romantic in the traditional virgin way, but in the way, that made those who had long forgotten their virginity take a longer step in a walkby to observe that expression for a moment longer.

i went to go buy my usually pack of smokes, and mentally knew i was never going to see her again

[dirtdominion98]

the city

volume 4

the downpour was heavy. the water gushed off my roof as a waterfall does and the result was three large buckets of fresh H2O. my cats and my shrubs would benefit from there. we would survive this storm as one does a bath. the world would be more fresh and more clean. and smell would be tolerated again. my senses entangled by the sheets of stormy clouds and my worry subsided by the abundance of what we needed at the time.

there was man walking down the street. His head hunched forward battling the rain. drunk and loved. he was leaving the bar. he had no wife or mother to look after and the wench at the bar was humorous and he was as easy on love as she was on the eyes.

the jacket he wore was expensive and almost ruined  by the downpour. funnily enough he was rich for a man has age and nothing could ever bring him down because the world was open and free. he had no demanding relationships to gangs or godfathers. he was as free as a man his age could be. the road getting there felt long and tedious but at the end of the day the lifestyle suited the jacket.

He knew all the stories about love and betrayal and miracles, for that what had been read to him as a youngster. He didnt think the real thing would have been so charming, the difference between paper and reality was note worthy. They didnt describe things like smell and the effect it had on one's body chemically, better than being drunk he would always say. He picked a yellow flower off the sidewalk and continued to pick every petal of that flower, he had long ago forgotten the little song the girls used to sing when doing this, but when the flower was bare he was satisfied.

The dame who had charmed him had long golden hair pinned into a ball on her head. She had a strong body, formed by daily jobs like tending plants and working with big animals. She didnt smile with her teeth, but with her eyes. He called her Candles in his head, the name suited her. Her real name was Valerie. She told him so, and he prayed she was not lying and if she was, he thought Candles would make a cute substitute. She was wearing interesting rings. All demonic looking to the churches, but if you had spent some time in the bigger world, they were fashionable. One ring stood out, and that was there because of her birthright. It was a golden index peice and she loved it. The ring gave hint that she was the devil's heiress, excellent blood, you could not find better in these times.

He felt as though he needed to court her first, but there were no chaperones. Perhaps maybe another drink with her and maybe a nice dinner would suffice. Perhaps she wanted only to be his friend, for he was an educated and open minded person, and had not tolerance for prejudice.

Perhaps he should start off with another drink. She had told him, with slightly drooped lids that she would return there tomorrow, for the she admired the musicians that would be there to play. He agreed, that the musicians were talented, and that if he returned tomorrow, it would be for her. She smiled with her eyes and took a sip of the pale ale in front her.

The thought of the evening brought warmth to him that the rain could not cool. The same warmth that lurked in the bar. He called it yellow to himself. Magical was the adjective he was playing with when he would definitely tell his children about it.

When he got home, he took a hot shower, to warm his skin, and groomed appropriately. He had eaten at the bar, a homely supper. He went to his small notebook and found himself drawing long eyelashes and a clean face dipped to the floor, like hers did in a moment of flattery.

He would see her again tomorrow, and prayed the music really was that good.

[dirtdominion98]

The city

Volume three

I played a lot of chess as a youngster, in a very competivie and erudite family. I loved the game, its nobility was comparatively the same as the way I grew up. They call it old money, I preferred to think of us as capable pioneers in the age we lived in. My grandfather's made the bulk of the money and the attitude which built the foundation of what we lived on. They called them horses for how hard they worked. I was called many a things too. My first name was spectacular and I could not remember to write it down. I could before school, but I never needed to, because as I said I was a capable pioneer in my age.

I was called a stud by an older gentlemen. I dont why, and I never wish to know, because my path was forward on the same gravel I already walked on. I thank my family for that, all capable construction workers. Anyway my chess games continued in school. Chess club was an afterschool activity which I loved like I did the dark wooden floors. The dust that collected was a lovely reminder of all that we achieved everyday. The days were long and the weather dictated our moods. Everybody always knew what time it was without even needing a watch or clock. Time is different when you dont know how to read. That is where I am traveling to. Now that the inferior part of my mentality is gone. I will once again continue on that path of unenslavement only selfish desire. I quit it, though the boss was an analogue, I preferred drive to a ticker.

I remeber one chess game with a very intelligent boy. He was popular and I was a horsey stud, the game I shall always remember. Firstly he played me into a hyperactive stupor so that I would rush my moves, even though I was speedy fast, I still rushed. By then he was confident enough to call my move stupid, and by the end of the game I was on my left with a king and he had a board full of pieces. I might of won if I believed in fair play, but I didnt. After a while I managed to knock some of his pieces with my king. At the end we called it a draw. I'm happy I don't believe in fair play. It makes for good times, I'm a shark there.

That popular boy was like the city. You could call it a draw if you admitted it was smarter. And have a good time if you didnt play fair.

Once you started forgetting about bosses and remembering that bribes and flattery weren't frowned upon by anyone who didnt like a ticker either, then the city would start to show you it's magic. There was a lady who sold the most Divine treats and fresh milk from a tap. There was a store with only fantastic childhood things like, tinsle stuffed toy animals, iced jewelry, nail crafts and make up. For next to nothing. This all at the same circle near my home. There were clubs everywhere, and I loved to dance.

I was new to the city. But it felt like an old friend to me. The times didnt change much, especially when you go on weather, the best baths were when it rained, and I was mermaid there. Christmas was heavenly, and that season was approaching. There were unsavory characters as well as savoury ones. I'm sure they were humourous to the other locals like I was where I was local.

[dirtdominion98]

the city

volume two

The first time I had ever lived in this place, I was nineteen, and had just finished my first physical love affair, and had only then started smoking. I came from one year of university and three months of waitressing at a Greek restaurant. I moved here to work an administrative job with my father who had slowly over the years turned into a vampire. I wasn't on the payroll but I still got paid. I decided to leave because there was no place there for me that I wanted to go. I was also interrupted by a surprise visit to Cambodia where I was to visit my sister, in a sweaty hole that looked like heaven when you wore the right eyes.  so much happened in those six months. I had moved because gang war had taken over the small tropical town where I had grown up. I missed the ocean, which circumstantially had become like a lover to me. The moon even more so. A day moon was a happy sight, and a night moon was romantic, there was almost nothing better than watching its light dance of the midnight blue waves of the ocean. The inland, had it's own charm. Here, the ocean was a woman, which the moon shone upon also. I did not have it in me to be jealous. Rather a reader of the stories that bloomed in front of my eyes, and a listener to the music that such a thing as love creates. So far, I had been able to eat my full of blackberries that grew on the side of the street that lead towards the area's circle centre. A lovely snack before a few lovely tales. The cigarettes were cheap and the bar homed the locals. It sounded the way you would expect a small popular bar to sound. Full of wonderful sounds of triumph and joy. The smell was intoxicating to me. I liked to drink, and I appreciated the culture as it was much like my own. Except people tracked you here. Few already knew where I lived. I only hoped for a comfortable stay, and rain to water the fruits and vegetables I had planted. Luckily rain came, and the thunder had already started to seduce me. Nothing charms you more than the weather. Every drop of rain a hand clap in an audience catering to and for you. Keep going, keep going it crooned. My room was lavishly my own. My old bed, my old lamp, my old curtains, that I had been separated from for a long time. My own smell. It's like re-entering a story book, where the crease of paused reading wasnt on the page, but on your face. I tried not to smile, like I had been taught, but luckily I sometimes couldn't help it. And the lines near my mouth mocked me in failure. Everybody hoped for love, and spring time banged on it's old drums to the heart beat of our biological make-up. A storm is always a good beginning to a story.

[dirtdominion98]

the city

volume one

The lights of town were seductive, and the streets answered back. I was living in town house with vampires and old money. I was an angel to myself, but people protected themselves these days, so I had the time to think about those parts of me that had moved on.

There were places I could walk to to buy cigarettes. The law was light here, and people had ak47s and industrial sized bankees of weed. Money wasn’t tight to all but me who couldn’t keep a job. 

It was heaven to some, the small supermarkets and the rusty claw machines that displayed silver watches and furry stuffed companions. There was a old bakery and a florist that also sold local deliquesces. The pawn shop practically was the devil, and sold things that made life so real it was almost impossible to ignore. In there were things I had come to know in my past, like a silver Christian cross, given to a boy by a girl, who sold it for money. There was an brand new board game called murder that nobody had the courage to open. 

The market circle seemed to be a place created for a certain breed of people. My age about. All still going on about sunflowers and harmless television series. Anything to soften life to those with sensitive hearts. The trick was to be the scariest person there, then you didn't really mind the board game, rather the bored game. Equally as frightening.

But people wanted sex. It was like a foothold in the adult world, where you did not have to listen to the old ones, and could hold eye contact with the whores that appeared every now and then. 

I was experienced in the heartbreak language that the bar attendees spoke and the young and drunk liked to think about. I had a bottle next to my bed for when the horror of my childhood became too much. Most of the time you stress about suicide, and pray every night that you friends could look after themselves if they needed to. The bottle helped the heartbreak too, when sentimentality took over and time only made you more desensitized to the holes in your chest. long term love in my age wasn’t an existing thing. If it was, it became epic, otherwise people minded themselves, stayed away from sacrifice and longed for warm nights instead of cold lonely ones.

That is the culture of my age. Fast, changing, but nothing interrupts daily rituals and habits. I was in the habit of finding love that usually didn't last a lifetime, too scared of growing old and too scared of not. Nobody wanted to commit to an orgy either, rather drunken moments of courage and honest polygamy. jealousy got ugly to those who could make it ugly. At the same time, a lover that kept loving you was the drug everybody everybody was searching for. I could be that drug if my target was tasteful, and sexier than the town, and believe it or not most of them were.