Wannabe

I pull out all my notebooks, six in all
All shapes and sizes and colors
I go to the bar, too many bottle to count
All shapes and sizes and colors
I see the novel I am working on and get down to business
Pour myself a tall glass of whiskey and find a pen
I grab one of the notebooks and look at my laptop

Fuck it

I'm Pretending Not To See Them And Instead I Pour The Milk

It had been months since I was with a woman and I was starting to realize it. It's easy to forget about women when you don't have one. Even easier to let the drink and pen replace them. When I took the first sip of my whiskey and coke I immediately wondered why I thought I needed someone in my bed tonight.

My roommate Russ had just left to go and pick up a woman at the airport who was staying us for the weekend. It amazed me that there were women willing to travel across the country for some cock. I knew of women that wanted to come and visit me only when they had plans to be and the area and a few had wanted me to come see them as well, but that wasn't this time. No, this was time of depression and loneliness. I was broke but Russ and I's bar was stocked and I was taking full advantage.

I was actually surprised that Russ was having this woman stay with us. The last few girls he was with, the steady ones not the girls he would fuck for a night, ended up making passes at me. He saw this when it happened but I was beating up on myself too much to care about their advances. Those girls didn't stay around very long.

I was walking around with my glass listening to Warren Zevon, trying to spruce up the place. I like to do what I can to make the best first impression, but as I finished my first drink and made my second, I abandoned the cleaning and picked up the pen.

I started working on a short story about a man who goes home for his five year high school reunion. I had this vision of a game board and everyone spinning the board to see where they end up but not Ryan, the man in the story. No, he rolls the die and moves along the board. In the end it was all about luck but at least Ryan wasn't being luck's bitch.

I wrote and drank and smoked for a good hour then got up for a good stretch and went outside, cigarette hanging from my lip. I looked hard out into the parking lot and watched the lights come and go. They reminded me of Danielle and Alex and Joan and Nadia. I took a long drag of my cigarette and as I coughed I felt my heart wither. I hunched over stopping the water from forming in the corners of my eyes.

I went back inside, this time pouring shot after shot of whiskey. Five shots in, I heard Russ opening the door. I went straight to the bathroom to piss, my bladder would have exploded right there if I hadn't. I came out a few minutes later and Russ introduced me to Janie. She wasn't that attractive, not thick but big, and she was way to shy and passive for my taste. When I extended my hand to shake hers, it felt limp. Our hands touched and she quickly pulled away. I was going to have to break her in. I hate it when people are uptight or reserve with me. Thinking they have something to protect. Some face to save, but I see past it. I'm sure she is a good person deep down inside but that doesn't allow them to slide past. It never allowed me to slide so I don't accept it as an excuse.

I talk with Janie and Russ for awhile and they entertain me like they are entertaining any drunk off the street. I ramble, I ask questions that receive little response. They stare uncomfortably at me, they believe me to be but I am collected the entire time. I know they want me to go to bed; they want to explore each other and Janie doesn't want to be judged.

After about forty five minutes of me interrogating Janie she finally gives me a straight answer and I respect her for it, leaving her alone. Russ closes the curtains that separate our room and I undress in the dark. Before my clothes are off, I can already hear Janie moaning. I listen for awhile; she is really exciting when turned on and I can tell Russ was a wise choice at this point in her life. She needed this.

I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Janie continues to get louder and louder then climaxes. She then becomes soft, her moans are more intimate but a few minutes later they intensify again.

Finally, I pick up my iPod and cell phone. I put the ear buds in and begin slowly searching through a playlist that is labeled "Heaven Ain't Close" and prepare text message to good friend and ex-fuck-buddy, Ashley. She is one of the three people still on my side in the game of life, that will still listen to me. I send the following text as I hit play on the Smith's "Asleep."

Just know I respect and trust you the most. You are my emotional dumping ground and that may be wrong but I have never felt so alone than tonight. I don't want you, one of your friends or a lost love. I just want to not be alone tonight. I just don't want that and it means being the asshole I usually am because I don't want to subject any woman to this lifestyle. For the first time in a very long time, I need a friend.

Can't Tell Me Nothing

In the wake of my arrest, I reflect upon what led up to the events and think about what will happen. Most would say that the amount and rate I consumed my drinks that night would put me in the same group as those labeled alcoholics; none of those people are in the Army though. I beg to differ as the only reason I drank that much, and drank at such a high rate was because it was there. Take what you can, when you can. Live for today, I say. Not that there is a shortage of alcohol, just that we should all enjoy what is going on in the moment, throw caution out the window and down another glass. The way I see it, you don't know when the next good time will happen; life gives us a lot of burdens. At least with that memory of that one party, or night out drinking with the guys, or whatever it is you look to do for fun, it makes dealing with life a little easier.

Some will ask though, was it worth it? You were arrested, you disappointed your NCOs, you are looking at losing money and rank and time. Hell yes it was worth it! In the end I still have a job, I am still alive and I have a funny story to tell. I once heard that there is no such thing as right or wrong, just the consequences of our actions and dammit, I am willing to accept those consequences even if I don't agree with them. I spent too much time regretting things in my past to let this affect me. No, for now on all I will do is adapt to the ever changing situation that is life. Making plans and trying to do the "right thing" is a waste because you can't control the variables. I can't control the variables. If I walk out of this thing with a slap on the wrist, it is not because I am a good Soldier, because I do the "right thing." It is because I am lucky, and that is all I hope for. Yet, no matter what comes of this you won't be able to persuade my way of thinking, no you can't tell me nothing.

The Price for Bringing Out the Best

I have been lucky enough to have known quite a few of them over the years.
Recently though, boredom has set in and the chase doesn't seem worth the reward anymore.
Another stiff drink; another empty bed.
It's sad actually, because I love to show them all that element inside that makes them so special.
That lets them know they have something that a man is looking for.
That gives them their hope, their confidence back.
While I may get pleasure from it all, it quickly fades.
Another stiff drink; another empty bed.
I want to carry this lifestyle on well into my thirties.
I want to know as many of them as possible and show them why every one of them is unique.
I just can't help but feel as though it is time for me to settle down like my peers.
Find one that I can spend the rest of my life with, start a family, make each other feel complete.
I think about this for a moment and feel empty; I just can't picture her.
Another stiff drink; another empty bed.
So I press on into my mid-twenties.
A deployment to a war zone.
An eight year stint in the military.
A new life as a college freshman.
With many young women looking for a new experience and a mature man.
Looking for someone to show them just how special they really are.
Another stiff drink; another empty bed.

Time in Thought, Utah

I don't hate my job. I mean, yes there are times when it just plain sucks but overall, especially out here in the field with the guys, I like being an Infantryman. What is taking a toll is my writing and I am starting to worry that soon I will lose my talent; have it fade away and be replaced with weapon statistics, battle drills and FM numbers. I fear that in the near future there will be nothing for me but the Army.

My dreams might seem a little big, even may appear to try and mimic a television character, but the truth is I just want to write, mainly I want the time to write. Before coming to Utah I was doing my best to expand a short story I wrote a year ago so that it would be publication ready for the University of Pittsburgh's literary magazine. Looking at my high school transcripts and knowing that I will need to retake the SATs, I decided that being published in the university's magazine would make me a shoe-in, coupled with a strong essay.

Studying at Pitt is mainly just for the experience, plus being a 25 year old freshman who used to be in the infantry will have its perks with the young ladies looking to experience life. By the time I reach college though I want a first draft of "Heaven Ain't Close" to be complete. I want to take my main character over a three novel arch. The second and third novels revolving around Louisiana and the effects of Russ' relationships on my own pursuits. I am sure Afghanistan will provide me with enough material for a fourth novel, whether or not it will follow my protagonist or not, I am not certain.

After graduating from Pitt, I am not sure what I will do. I really don't want to do any conventional jobs but I am afraid that if my talent doesn't grow exponentially, then living off the money from my novels will be impossible and I will be back at the nine to five or worse, be back in the Army. Lucky would be being able to drink and write for the rest of my life with no rush, just taking life at my own pace.

I'm not worried about being famous, I just want to be good and good enough to live comfortably with little work. So for now I press on, training with the guys. If the life of a famous writer is to come I welcome it, it's just that right now it is not meant to be. Right now, it is meant to play out in my dreams. There is too much going on to worry my head about what to do in the years to come.