Wednesday, January 5, 2011
I come into the bar and risk a careful look around. Bar # 17, 489 that looks just like bar # 17.488 and all the rest down the line, just like every bar I've seen on this damned "quest". Do you know what a quest really is? It's a blind man in a dark room, looking for a black cat that's not there.
It's quiet anyway, just one woman in leathers nursing a drink at the far end of the bar. I shrug out of my denim jacket and belly up to the bar, eyeball the bartender. "Beer." I lay a dollar down and sip.
How many more years you gonna keep looking, asshole? What makes you think she's gonna want to see your sorry ass, anyway? You should settle down, find someone nice, maybe. I grin crookedly. Like someone nice is gonna want to have anything to do with me. It's an old argument, this internal dialogue. Sometimes I do settle down for a while - for a week, a month - a year once; but it never lasts and then I'm off rambling again.
I catch the bartender looking at me curiously. I give him a hard level stare until he looks away.