Tomic Riter

Tag: story

  • Soon, it is over again.

    Merry time is almost over. In twelve hours, the drudgery resumes. Twelve hours of life left. Remove from that 9 hours of sleep. That leaves me with just three hours. Three hours. People talk about forever. How ridiculous. Turned down a dinner offer. I do not usually seek human connection. I like to remain utterly alone . I might end up doing nothing at home, but I find it better that going out to meet boring people. I do not usually care about eating, and I care even lesser about a dinner invitation. I can sleep with hunger in my stomach. It won’t at least be boring. Shuffling through my playlists. Have I missed a gem in there? I need to discover one tonight. I need to. Tonight, I am not an alcoholic. Tonight, I am not a chain smoker either. Tonight, I am a different kind of addict. Is it even possible to stop one addiction for another? How many of us are truly free? I haven’t found one. Finding one isn’t my life’s purpose either. I keep posing these questions to myself. None of them are meant to be answered. I know the answers. Two and half hours more. I could have taken a bath today. It’s been eleven days. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. Soon, it is over again.

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  • Who gives a shit anymore.

    It has been a while. Forgot this corner of my life. I have been busy, with what, I cannot say. It’s not like something important has kept me engaged. I am busy for nothing. Glad for another Friday. Book three in progress. The ceiling fan is working fine. The door to my room closes without making much noise. Some fucker cleaned my garden, removed all the weeds that had grown all over the pavement. Who was that fucker. I do not wish to find out. What more can I want on a Friday evening. Life is shit, but then it has always been shit. There must be some kind joy in living a shit life. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to let go of it. If you are reading this, I hope you’re alive, and I hope you’re left with a lot of madness in you. All I am left with is a little red wine. It’s not too late to drive out and buy alcohol. Not too late. Tomorrow morning might be a different beginning. Who gives a shit anymore.

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  • Lo-fi, Bird eggs, Fight.

    The lo-fi playlist continues. Song number 424 and it’s soothing to the ears. It seems like a song I can play on repeat. I think I will play it on repeat. Early morning, checked again for the snake in my garden. It’s nowhere to be seen. Yesterday evening, saw a number of tailor bird nests hanging down the palm tree branches. One guy said the snake came because of that. It wanted the eggs, and if it got lucky, it must have thought, then it could have a bird as well.

    As far as I know, the snake didn’t come back, and it didn’t have any bird or eggs either. This morning, drove to a nearby joint, bought some stupid snacks to munch all day. Ran out of beer last evening. I have a sudden urge to watch a great cinema. When I think about it, I feel depressed. Not one good cinema these days. All they are filming is crap. Shallow.

    At the joint, saw four maybe five men sitting and sipping tea and coffee. I recognized one of them and I feel he recognized me too although my eyes stayed hidden behind black sunglasses. We had a verbal fight some time back. I had forgotten about it until this morning. Human brain is fascinating. It’s a killing machine, a slow poison. I ran insdie the joint, bought what I was looking for, paid and drove back home. No word to anyone. It saved my day.

    And now, time for a little morning jazz.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Unplanned and spent.

    How much of your life do you really plan? I plan very little. In fact, I plan nothing other than how much money I can spend at the most. That’s the beginning and the end of my planning. All else goes unplanned. Road trips. Dinner outings. Casual walks. Taking a swig of cold beer in the evening. Smoking a cigarette. Leaving town for three days. Calling sick at work.

    I never go shopping. Supermarkets bore me. I love electronics though, so I always stop by at an electronics store and check out what new they’re selling. I haven’t bought a single piece of clothing in two years. That’s me and there’s nothing heroic about it. I do not even remember changing my clothes. I am a filthy piece of shit.

    Night. I guess I’ve had too much. No beer left. Few cigarettes that will last a couple of days. My phone is discharged. I am trying to hold myself together as I write this. I am gliding alone through the thick of night. My wings are itchy and bloody and my face isn’t that of an angel or a messiah. I curl myself into a fetus and hope to reduce to atom.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Snake, Jazz, Cooking.

    Woke up a little earlier than usual. The first thing I remember seeing is a snake, fat and long, black skin, slithering away to the far end of my garden. It was gone from my eyes in less than 20 seconds. Really sharp senses. A while later, I was wishing I caught it. I wanted to fry it with a little salt and oil. No pepper.

    Noon is approaching on wobbly legs. I haven’t seen the snake again, but it’s there in my thoughts since morning. The sight of it slithering away so smoothly and without a sound. It’s something I hadn’t seen in quite a time. It’s unlike seeing clouds and birds and trees and dogs.

    I have put on some jazz. I have moped the floor. I’ve gotten rid of all the garbage except the empty beer and wine bottles and beer cans and few empty wrappers of wafers. The clouds are gathering. I think they won’t rain much. Where I live, it hardly rains like a motherfucker. I am fine with it. I prefer clouds to rain. A little rain is fine. Too much spoils the mood, even if I’ve got nowhere to go.

    The floor is almost dry. The pleasant lime fragrance of floor cleaner has filled my room. Today seems better than the rest of the year that went by.

    Evening. The lime fragrance lingers on. Cooked and ate. The snake wasn’t seen again. I wonder where its home is. It rained a little in the afternoon. I was asleep almost all afternoon. Noon makes me lazy, dysfunctional. Power supply is erratic here when it rains or even when it’s cloudy. It’s fascinating how the sky changes from cloudy to clear to cloudy. It’s fascinating how the sky changes in that fashion almost every day.

    Back in my chair for some reading. I have put on some lo-fi tunes. It’s a non-violent day. One of the very few non-violent days of my whole goddamn life. Often, I wish to be incarcerated. Today, I have got no such wish. Just music and cooking and reading, and occasionally the thoughts of that snake.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Thorn break.

    Munching snacks. Looking at the window. Beer forcing itself out of my damp eyes. The world won’t care about my absence as much as I don’t care about the absence of the world. Some song playing but I do not care. There’s nothing else but this moment. All else is false recording, exaggeration or understatement. If I am sitting now, will I be condemned for telling everybody that I am standing and not sitting? How bad will the consequences be? Will I care about the bad consequences? There’s a way out of every situation.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE AND PURCHASE MY BOOKS

  • After a noise day.

    Hopefully, it won’t rain today. Dinner has been served earlier than usual, only I haven’t eaten yet. Often, my hunger isn’t for food. I will see later.

    Met this character today. He is one of those who know nothing but shout a lot in everything. That’s how people like him want to hide their incompetence. They think that by being loud while talking, no one will question their actions and no one will resist them in any way. Being loud doesn’t mean being right. I think somebody who is right, he won’t necessarily have to be loud. He only has to be clear, and his voice will reach wherever it intends to reach. People like that character are almost everywhere. About them, nothing can be done.

    A pleasant weather this evening. I’ll probably talk a walk on the roof, probably smoke, probably drink a can of beer. Or maybe I’ll just sit here and listen to jazz and read a little. Life is revealed only when it’s lived. A life not lived, well, it culminates in darkness all the same. And whether it’s lived or not lived, it’s quite ordinary.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Diarrhea diaries.

    Woke up with a terrible diarrhea. Ate too many chocolate cookies last evening. I couldn’t help it. It was raining and raining and there was nothing else to do. Also, I forgot to smoke yesterday. How could I forget that. I guess I just didn’t feel the need to smoke otherwise I would have smoked at least two. Couldn’t eat anything all day today. Around three noon, drank three glasses of lemon juice and that’s all and listened again to my Spotify playlist. My playlist has got everything – blues, jazz, some country, some rock, classical. Mostly blues and jazz. My playlist is my crutch. Without it, I cannot walk too far. Without my music, I tend to lose my head sooner than usual. Without my music, I lose connection to life. Music keeps my spirit alive and awake, even when I have diarrhea!

    Evening now. Back at home, listening to instrumental jazz. It hasn’t rained today, and I think it won’t rain tonight. Outside, quite windy. I can see the shadow of trees on my window swaying violently. Knock at the door. Must be the old woman bringing me dinner. Yeah, it’s her dressed in an orange blue printed gown, her white hair tied in a ponytail hidden under a veil. I could never understand culture, and how it has kept men and women, especially women, bound since centuries in the most absurd of ways. I am glad that I am uncultured. People say that culture preserves. Well, fuck that. We need more destruction than preservation.

    Now that I have opened the door, a little walk outside in the front lawn. The sign of no rain gives me joy. The winds are chilly but bearable in this t-shirt and these shorts. I walk back inside to my bedroom, pick up the keys to the main gate, walk outside to the main gate, lock it. A dog wailing, running in circles. I watch it for a moment, locate the moon in the sky, and then walk back inside. I open the container in which the old woman brought me food, look at the contents. Not bad. Not too warm, but it will do.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Work work work.

    Work work work work work work all week all day until evening. At night, it just rains and rains. It rains a lot. Too much rain to go anywhere or do anything other than sit in chair, drink coffee, smoke cigarette, drink beer, listen to music, read a little, think about the unfinished story, think about having no time. No time at all. Whatever the little time I get is spent getting drunk. But look at the irony. The drink is spent but I am still going on. How much can a man really take. A lot, I guess. A lot. A man can take a lot until he realizes there’s no point in taking anymore. As I write, it keeps raining, the roads wash anew, the potholes fill to their necks, snakes run out in the garden, moths circle around the lamp glowing in my porch, lizards run away, garbage in my kitchen rots, cigarette waits for the spark, old wounds run dry as the body waits for new.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • I feel alright.

    Eating breakfast and typing shit again. Went out to buy breakfast a while ago. These days, I myself do not do much cooking. Discovered a good small joint not far from here that makes really delicious breakfasts and meals. I just go there and buy and bring food home and eat. Saves my time. Gives me more time to read and write, especially write. I am looking forward to publishing at least two more books this year. One is already published – Red Room Bar – a collection of 50 poems written in and around bars over the course of six years. The paperback version of the same should be made available in 2-3 days. Submitted the manuscript of the same only yesterday night at around 3 A.M. It became a long night. Fell asleep some time after 4. Wake up at 8:30 to the usual morning noises of birds and people and garbage truck. Missed the garbage truck again and now, the garbage will stay here for another week. Shit. SHIT!

    What are the odds of this being a simulation – my life and everything happening in it? I think zero. This life is as real as a life can be. Took so much shit today morning, my stomach sank a mile. Had to run out for breakfast at once. Crazy. And the day has barely begun. If I sit down and think about what all happened since the time I woke up, I realize that a lot has already happened. A LOT! Me waking up to the nauseating smell of garbage everywhere in my home, the garbage truck getting missed, me taking so much shit, me running out for breakfast, me thinking about paying all my dues to all the people I owe, me thinking about the paperback version of my book finally going live, me thinking about finishing my book of short stories, me taking out an apple and an orange, instead of a beer, from my fridge and placing them on my table, me checking my earnings so far from my books and realizing there’s a long way to go, me thinking about the Independence Day in America, and how silly the idea of independence day really is. It doesn’t matter what country we talk about, the idea is always so silly.

    Got a big stack of books waiting to be read – Murakami, Kafka, Camus, Celine. A lot of writing to be done. Heading to it straightaway. Have a good time.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE AND PURCHASE MY BOOKS