Sunday, 25 October 2009

Tonight, two of the three courses take over an hour to reach our table. Despite a mere fourteen full tables in this thirty six tabled restaurant. And after drinking half of the bottles on the white list, it's decided, as usual that gratitude charge is defiantly null and void. And the conversation is a slur of regurgitated wine talk, largely based on bottle blurbs. As everyone is too far gone to actually think, let alone taste for them selves.

Wednesday, I am spotted having breakfast in another expensive establishment. Rather rudely I am approached, and spoken at for an awkward thirty seconds, until it's obvious that the conversation is dead. Shortly after the American waitress brings the bill. Closing my eyes, I pick a card at random and drop it into her basket.

And the rest of the week is unfortunately a blur of drawing, coffee, drawing, and expensive lunches alone. Coupled with perhaps the odd urge to make more excursions to the continent.

Tonight, having underpaid the bill, and cut the restaurant, the walk home is as equally as disappointing. The wind grazes at my face, and the spatter of the rain dampens my brown, moccasins, and the light at the crossing roses my face, and headlights race in the sky, and the dormant Christmas decorations hang, apathetically, across the street, and a man talks German into a mobile phone, and the Vodka makes my head spin, and the coffee makes me shake. And I'm left thinking. In the story of my life, on what page do I receive terrible service in a restaurant, get chatted up by a waiter in a Vodka bar, and still walk home alone? Because I really wish the editor had torn it out.


Alex said...

Your writing calms me like nothing else.

Tim in the City of Angles said...

studies have shown that white wine is terrible for your teeth. that being said, i've developed a taste for proseco, which I never thought possible.

why is it odd having a compulsion to travel to the continent? it's probably exactly what you need.

you are a lovely, intelligent, talented young man. i know this, because i'm attracted to you and i'm never attracted to dullards. what impresses me most is your talent for self-crucifixion, something usually requiring at least two hands.

snap out of it, Toughie. it's boring and difficult to watch, not to mention you don't deserve it.

Ben said...

You've not been back in Bristol very long, but already seem in need of a change of scenery.

I'm not far away, if you feel like a meander some time?