Where is my mind

Last night on my deck with my faithful Chihuahuas, Uma and Flea, sitting on my lap I drank Guinness after Guinness in an attempt to reach some kind of semi-conscious karma, to go to that place in which reality was stripped of the stainless steel meat cleaver it wielded. For being a knight errant in modern day times one learns to disarm the enemy in any way possible, even if the enemy dwells with the walls of one’s own head. There is no glory to be won in these battles the only prize being one’s own sanity and the gentle rub of the alcohol as it eases through one’s veins like a lazy barge.

I gazed up at the moon which sat there mocking me in its own way, its full grapefruit like brilliance sucking up the spotlight of the dark show called night, to which I was a lonely spectator with a nose bleed seat. I pondered the possibilities that flitted through my brain like moths moving toward some brilliant light but ultimately like the moths when they reach the light I found I had nowhere to go with them, that these possibilities were only possibilities illuminated and nothing more.

“Fucking cocksuckers,” I yelled as I threw another bottle at the cherry tree that hangs over my deck.

The Chihauahuas howled as the glass shattered and sprinkled over the deck and I thought myself a bastard for riling them up so but I had to do it, outbursts of such a nature where the only way I could fully be sure that I was actually still alive. I had the fucked up feeling that if I didn’t do something, make myself somehow known to the gods that I would fade into oblivion and not even my words would be left.

I tried to phone friends but I’d found none would answer my calls and so I left long drunken messages assuring that the next day I would also be alone. It seemed I’d used all my friends up, had isolated myself, that I was on an island and was drifting further and further out into the sea of anonymity.

I watched as my elderly neighbor fiddled around in his yard, coaxing his dog to piss and playing with the tarp on his pool. In the darkness he moved, only the glint of his glasses reflecting the moonlight and the scuffing of his shoes along the sidewalk gave him away. He could be happy in his trivial chores for his wife awaited him inside his home.

I got up and pissed off the side of the deck and as the urine ran down the side of the cherry tree and mixed with the broken glass and beer my cell phone rang. I snatched it out of my pocket and looked at the display. It was her.

“Hello,” I said.

No answer.

“Hello,” I said again.

Still no answer. I knew then that she wouldn’t speak, that she couldn’t that she was too far gone. I would never see her again. I closed my phone, stretched my arm back and threw it. I watched as it sailed through the air like some sort of mechanical bug and crashed on the road, breaking into a hundred moonlit pieces.

I sat and opened another beer and my Chihuahuas licked he dew off the sides of the can as the moon disappeared behind a clump of gray clouds and everything went black.