Secret Motorcycle Rides and
The Ability to Go Anywhere Alone
Minerva Wakes Up
Out in the public scene of alcohol facilitated socialization all the animals inch their way to whatever life scene pulls them in that night. They’re laden with veiled beauty and life, revealing themselves as they see fit for whatever game they’re about to play.
Minerva Looks in the mirror. She has been alone for awhile now. At first terrifying, a feedback loop of shame and fear keeps herself locked in solitary confinement until she is perfect, but tonight she feels something different. She breathes a little deeper, runs her finger tips along the edge of a counter and feels a little more spark than usual. She finds the keys to the bike she left sitting for months.
Movement’s Remedy
Being a cat has always given her a sense of freedom, as if the expectations of humans did not apply to her. Alluring and exclusive is the grip that pulls people in the night, of course Minerva never felt her hand so she decides to make her own fate that night. She rides off, growing bolder with speed.
Arriving at the bar, she sees the crowd of people standing out front. At first they intimidate her, the feeling passes, for no other reason than she is bored of it. A coldness takes over her gaze and she is strong again.
Menerva’s Head
For dialogue to be entertaining there must be tension, both parties must trust the other person to understand their intention and continue the conversation – no long pauses indicative of overthinking indicative of too much effort indicative of insecurity, no unnecessary commentary, no questioning, chemistry is something so fluid it’s as if they are talking to themselves. Think about shit dialogue, that’s primarily what you have experience with and it results from people not trusting each other to think like themselves, they are these pretentious pricks who in anticipation of not being understood simplify their own speech and then the person on the other end reciprocates. The conversation is this boring self fulfilling prophecy of meaninglessness.
(makes eyes contact with bar tender)
Hi
Get me a drink
What do you want?
no
This is a pointless statement, a one dimensional dumbed down script being read from the bank of idioms stored away in the life is meaningless subconscious void of an internally dead man’s mind, my mind. I need to open strong. Once I start I don’t get to think about how I appear anymore.
I wish the bartender would say – “somebody’s experimenting with undeserved confidence. Did you just start faking it tonight? How’s it been working for ya?”
(An unexpected dead inside man would be thrown the fuck off right now, but if I can get over the hurtle of surprise and actually listen to the words and imagine them as my own, some resource given to me, not just some social homework I have to replay to I’d say – “You’re good at establishing trust, how’s unbridled honesty working for ya?” Ew, it’s all cheesy in my head.
(The ice is now broken, the waiter) – That’s how I clawed my way to being a bartender at a 20$ a drink nightclub
I’d say – “Actually, get me a drink mixed with something caffeinated.”
Bartender – “Earning your confidence with inebriation I see”
Fake it till you make it, means earning experience and facing your own inadequacies until you can overcome them enough to not fake it. I’d say – “you’re a keen bartender, how long did it take you to notice that’s the only way most people get personalities” It’s all so cheesy, I’m an art imitation of a bad action bar scene movie, i can’t deny it.
He’d say – “Well, it’s actually my first night and you’re my first customer ever, and I’ve never tasted alcohol myself before.” Because obviously everybody learns the first time they drink alcohol at a party the effect it has on inhibition.
Gesture that I get the stupidity of my statement, then I say – “Psychologists charge more and you have to provide your own alcohol.”
He says – “Doctor-patient confidentiality is a myth anyways.”
I say – “Bartenders aren’t actually people, they are a combination of all the drunken souls that poured their hearts out to them.” – ridiculous
He says – “Being it my first night I guess that makes me a reflection of you”
I mumble – “you have no idea how true that is”
He says – “I can’t hear you”
I say – “Tell me what you see… mirror” I flick my napkin up sarcastically as I roll my eyes.
He says – “Well. no degree, don’t have my own place, and I’m on my parents cell phone plan, I’m glad I can borrow your undeserved confidence”
I say – “Nice, If they placed you in a 9 to 5 setting it’d evolve to a sitcom before the end of the first week”
He says – “This place was a law firm last Tuesday.”
I’m doing it. Noticing that I’m doing it is like realizing I’m in a dream.
…
On the Inside
Time to try myself out on a clique. Approaching a group of people that are already well connected is difficult. Sometimes, from my experience, they are in the state of mind that believes new interaction to be vapid and it’s up to the infiltrator to get the ball rolling. That can be a daunting task when you’re a long time lone wolf approaching what appears to be the most normal people on the planet. I can hear them talking about something I know nothing about, like insurance policies or the political stance of a senator. They are dressed in what appears to be everyday normal clothes. My lack of appreciation for their sense of fashion will become clear if I can’t notice some nuance about their subconscious choice in style. They sit almost perfectly still from the waist down, making gestures with their arms and hands as they talk. One of them listens intently as the guy falls into a monologue. I’m riveted despite having little context on what he is talking about, but the way he says it does it justice. The way he’s captured the attention of the other man, there is an unspoken magnetism. Do I dare interrupt their delicate flow? The carefully established dynamic of comfortable conversation that I covet so much? I don’t want to appear as if I believe a conversation where I may also be included is more important than the torrent of soul coming out of the man’s mouth right now, but here I stand swooning over what seems to be the most romantic take on insurance and senators I’ve ever heard.
The charismatic preacher of insurance spots my dumbfounded gaze and takes the lead – “I see you’ve taken an interest on the topic of the house and senate having to buy their health insurance from the health insurance exchange blah blah.” I’m so ignorant geez.
Second man buts in still deep in thought on his topic – “What I’m saying is if the federal government is to establish a healthcare policy that encourages private companies or institutions to provide healthcare to their employees yet this same institution considers the senate above being provided with a substandard form of employer provided medical insurance. It’s hypocritical, an unnecessary symbolic gesture that implies pity on the masses, and no matter how they try to spin it as a benevolent act it’s going to leave a imprint of victimization on the malleable mind of those who fall in the bottom 50th percentile of the income bracket” I need to find a way to relate to this on an emotional level or I’m gonna fall off this conversational cliff.
Nervously, Minerva repeats what he just said in verbatim, it comes out all wrong – “Yeah I too believe that the difference between a considered brilliant/beloved politician and a nobody (like in the grand scheme of things, what a small subset of historians will write papers on 50 years from now) is their ability to recognize how their strategies though unspoken and often time buried underneath emotions and media interpreted propaganda affect the underlying perception of their audience.” It’s a broad leap, but it applies to everything political. Fuck, he’s gonna think I’m pandering to his political opinions by playing it safe with broad political strategical statements.
He’s staring at me. I hope he speaks so I don’t have to keep talking. I feel like I said something stupid, but their silence can be interpreted as good or bad and I’m so fucking bored, so in I might as well endows my little guiding voice with the experienced voice of the charismatic bartender,
Bartender says – “You’ve lost this one – move on”, thanks, I know it’s ok, not a big deal, ya live ya learn.
He’s looking at me so perplexed, I can’t tell if he thinks I’m mocking him or wondering if I actually care about an obscure subject he feels he can with a few people. I am amidst a social hurdle. Let him become aware of his own apprehension before overcoming it. Let’s gradually increase each other’s tolerance for the strange until we can both say whatever we want. This is it, this is freedom.
Breathe, fill your blood with oxygen and return to your sleepy near death state. I don’t understand death as binary anymore, the longer I live the more I realize you can be partially dead and it’s the worst. Perspective is established. Her insecurity-fueled narcissism begins to dissipate and the words that come out next begin) – “you sit very nicely…”
Guy – “You stand nicely.”
I’m standing like a puma ready to pounce. He is still. There are a thousand things I could do but they all seem pointless. Of those pointless things I could run away, slap them, keep standing here frozen, keep mocking their love of obscure political topics. That seemed like the best option – oh god but the exhaustion – the inevitable stumbles. What about? Their childhood, that’s a relatable topic, or their dreams and aspirations, ugh, so cliche. OK let’s just go for whatever is about to come out of my mouth.
What would a bartender guy do? Remember bartender guy, always remember. I say – “So our representatives… they’re under the very deep and uncharted territory of debate followed by action, but in modern day they have to also maintain a public persona that inevitably falls far from exemplary behavior. The negative reaction is mixed with positive, it seems any personal reaction to the negative is obviously an demise to a political career, but what about reacting to the positive? It seems to me in order to get that far in a political career you can’t let the limelight affect your ego in the slightest. It seems like an obvious strength to someone like me at first but then I think back to a good one liner joke I told or a good bar story, how i remember it for weeks and by doing so let it go to my head, imagine how strong a person has to be to filter out deity bias in every response to what they say” Am I in high school AP Gov, wtf?
Guy says – “I feel like you heard the words “insurance” and “government” and just came up with the biggest most elaborate mockery attempt you could think of”
“I did try to talk about how you were sitting”
“It’s much easier to discuss each other’s bodies than politics.”
“Let’s just get us a room and call it a night.”
I’m just a younger version of the bartender, we all are.
A guy sitting nearby notices me brooding over a drink, he asks – “what’s wrong?”
I say – “it’s too soon for that level of emotional intimacy?” should have left out emotional intimacy, I talk too much.
“you’re so traditional”
“It’s the way you’re sitting, it’s off”
What’s wrong with the way I’m sitting?
A wave of Euphoria comes over me, I’m relaxed again. I imitate how he is sitting by crossing my legs and hunching over with my drink.- “This has a certain tone, it says closed off and subservient to the norm, however …” I sprawl out over the chair I’m on “this says…”
“We’re in business” Original guy finishes her implication
I sprawl out over the piano next to us – “And this says…”
Guy – “Bouncer has to make a decision”
Another guy – “give us a course in contemporary music”
Minerva – “to the revolution, may we elect politicians solely on their stylistic furniture posture” I raise my glass
Third guy – “You really like to raise your glass”
I make eye contact, I slowly lower my drink to his face and press the ice cold glass against his cheek a little too hard and too long. He does nothing to stop me.
The Speaking Pauses Say
As the night goes on I find more comfort in mingling. I keep pulling myself out of the moment to ruminate until I feel way too vulnerable to continue – I freeze and nothing dares unfreeze me. I give all I’ve gained away to the bartender as if I were switching back to my peasant cinderella form.
These memories, an attractive Nuisance
What the Rain Gives
All the things I cared about before, the sort of things that give me the illusion I am put together and on the right path, It’s all gone to shit. All my belongings in various apartment all over the city, giving away my days worth of creation to anyone who will take them, my bank account is a steady zero, towed cars, tickets, drunken nights before important dates, and this moment, so many crazy wanderings that take me back to the epicentre of when I stopped being lonely. I’m running through the streets in the breaking rain to feel it again.
…
Anthropological Magical Realism 