Spinning

Chapter 1: the Beauty and the Butthead

Dragons Blood... no, Buddha's Blessing. I need a soothing aroma, something soft and sensual. The flame fades into a flickering ember as a warm breeze fills my bedroom, and the smoke from the incense floats unbothered to the ceiling. I inhale a slow breath, and exhale the day's stress.

I'm sitting on the bench of my bay window. Night is nearly here, and with it, the sweet, aching relief from the people of the day. Soon the roommates will be asleep, and I can darkly drift through our apartment, alone, unbothered, thinking with gentle solitude and serenity, digesting the awkward post-bathroom run-in I had with Adriano, unbothered. I know I had blushed a deep crimson, but only tomorrow knows how he took my embarrassment.  I blush again at the recollection.

A tree mostly hides my vantage point of the street from the window. I spy, blissfully hidden, on the poor homeless man in his superfluous wheel chair, fighting off some unseen villain. Poor, pitiful creature he would be, except for he spits at me every time I pass his corner of the sidewalk.

But I'm alone, beautifully alone, and I can spy alone, snoop on the liquor store cashier sneaking a smoke in the alleyway alone, watch the stray black cat creep through the street alone, and soon I'll be able to enter the kitchen alone, eat alone, lie on the couch alone, think alone, be alone. The prospective peace is overwhelming.

The harsh ringing of my phone pierces my musings. It's a number I don't recognize. Ignore. The ringing comes back, though. It's the same number.

"Hello?"

"JORDAN. Jordan. Thank god you picked up." Goddamn it. It's Matt. And he's drunk.

"What's up?"

"Jordan. Jordan. Have you looked outside? Are you looking? If you are, you'd see it's freaking bright out."

I double-check the gloomy, overcast sky. The sun is low enough that it is undeniably not bright out.

"Uh, looks like rain. Maybe."

"Jordan, I promise you it's very much bright out. Jesus flogging Christ, are you sure you're looking outside? I don't think you believe me. It's so bright out."

"Yeah, okay you're right, it's bright out..." Where is he going with this... I have better things to do.

"Is anyone else freaked out that it's bright outside?!" Matt loudly asks a vague audience. A scraping sound follows as the phone hits the ground.

"Hello?" A more sober voice answers. Sort of gruff sounding.

"Who is this?"

"This is security at the EnVision. Your boyfriend has trespassed private property and violated the terms of our establishment. He needs to be picked up immediately or I will call the police."

"He's not my boyfriend."

U.G.H. Mother foxing Matt ruining my night of tranquility. It's a Thursday night, for Christ's sake. A Thursday night, barely; It's 7pm. What did Matt do all day?

I pull into the entrance of the EnVision. It's a swanky enough hotel, very new money, and I can only assume Matt, in his stuck up, wannabe upperclass glory, insisted to his coworkers on a fancy evening at their bar for the bourgeois, only to chug seven Mai Tai's and rip shots of vodka.

I see Matt's distinctive 6'3" frame arguing with whom I presume to be the friendly security staff I delightfully encountered on the phone. Matt's hands are waving dramatically.

"...you have no right to do this. Blow me. I have a nine-inch penis. Nine inches. Want to see? I'll get my lawyer here. I will."

"Helllloooo!" I announce my arrival as I normally do with Matt, a reference to Seinfeld.