A Ghost town of activity[Daniel]

The internet cookies tumbled through the town like a bunch of tumbleweed, a haunting reminder of the promise this small town had in the corner of the internet. Some of them become entangled in my boots, grabbing on wondering if they could leave with me. I didn’t bother with a reply, or getting rid of them, nobody would need the information.

Stepping through the dusty streets, I walked past the buildings of words piled up against each other. Some were grand, others shanty rickshaws barely held together with the support of grammar and intent. My lonely two, the only things I made here, stood like gravestones representing a past self long dead. I had changed, moved on, built bigger and mostly different things, so why had I come back?

I already had my own little slice of Eden in the interwebs of my own writings, a playground for the subconscious, yet that was just a house to yell, plan, cry or whine in. This, I looked around at the small community that was gathered here, this was something which had so much potential, so many dreams, and now so much sadness, that I felt somewhat responsible for its steady decline into… what the town was now.

Moving past the monolithic structures of past entries, I moved towards the hypothetical center of the town, often stopping to read one or two entries. These were gateways into the lives of others, the rise and fall of expectations, the change in tone for no perceptible reason, and then the sudden quick silence of …. real life, fledging thoughts or, more easily forgiving, a sudden death. I had no idea, I merely felt the comfort of nostalgia with each entry. Well that is till I reached the saloon.

Saloons, never that busy to begin with, flapped their doors like eyelashes, tempting me to go in, but there was nothing for me. Instead everything was gone, the people sipping whisky telling a yarn or two of their lives, the warmth of the bartender as he heard each tale, the occasional ego boost of when other patrons and strangers came up to you to compliment your latest tale. These things, the small comforts were gone. Even the regulars, people I never talked to, seemed to have decided to abandon the un-ambitious springs of the town for something far greater.

“Ahem,” a voice coughed out from behind the counter.

“Yes?”

“A drink for the blogger?” It was the bartender, still hoping to provide for his patrons. Sadly, just like the cookies, he was stuck here.

“Sure,” I said a little croakily, I wasn’t used to talking most of the time I journeyed the web alone.

The bartender served his drink, a standard brew designed to give what most people looked for in the internet, satisfaction. Yet he didn’t give the drink to me, even though I waited hunched over the bench staring at the drink. Eventually I gave up.

“Well, what do you need?” I asked, a little too parched to worry about an answer.

“The standard fare.”

I swallowed at the thought.

“You sure?” I asked nervously, it had been a while since I’d last paid a decent fare, I wasn’t sure it would be up to scratch. If it wasn’t the bartender would probably do something to my sweet satisfaction. Looking at the drink though, goddamnit I was thirsty.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Bear with me though, it’s been a while.”

The bartender merely shrugged, he didn’t really care, this was just another job for him.

“Well since I last came here, life has been a little hectic, the life of a university student, me seems to have jumped a notch in hardness. I’m still looking for a job in the real world.” I gave a jerk of my thumb, gesturing behind me. “And that’s taken some time, especially considering that nothing’s really turned up.  Well that’s not really fair, I’ve managed to have two short jobs working as a tutor and an usher, but they were only a week apiece.”

I shook my head and continued on. “That’s okay, and also not the reason I’ve been avoiding coming back to this place, in short I had a relationship. The key word there is ‘had’ and while it took up a lot of time, that’s again not the reason why I didn’t come back either. Oh, and in case your wondering me and her are still friends, which is what I was probably after all this time”

I realised I wasn’t getting anywhere with this rant, but I had to give the man something, after all I was reeking of guilt.

“Okay… too much personal information. Moving on in 2nd yr at university is where I’ve started get tired of university. Not sick of, or hate, just that, even at an Arts level, there’s a lot going on and comparatively to last year I’ve got less energy and enthusiasm for what’s going on. Perhaps it’s the result of being jaded or something? I’m unsure.

Perhaps because of this general lackluster I’ve declined to return to this place in the fear that my lack of enthusiasm would bring this place crashing down, or worse still get me targeted. Looking back on what I said and thought at the beginning of my university life it feels a kind of betrayal. Looking around at this place though it might of given it a bit of luster, as something’s better than nothing, right?”

The bartender said nothing, waiting for me to finish.

“I’ve not decided to go awol on my hopes and dreams of writing/learning/having fun at university, but sometimes I just want to curl up and do nothing. As some of the time, especially in the subject of Japanese and my Creative writing attempts, I feel as though I’m just embarrassing myself and that the whole notion of doing anything is doomed to fail. Realistic pessimism? I think not, its probably just an overreaching desire for more, greedily so and I’m just a tad too critical of myself.

I mean I’ve joined up with Syn FM, done some midnight radio and am on a newsreading stint and that’s working out really well! I’ve done some driving, I did have some work previously, I’ve written creatively, I’ve sent off pieces of work to other websites and tried to stretch my boundaries.”

I took a breath.

“I’ve gone to karaoke, I’ve made new friends, I’ve been out driving, fixing, reading, running, exercising, fixing computers, going to symphonic concerts, practicing saxophone and guitar, and, and , and…..”

I stopped, this rant was becoming a bit ridiculous.

“And what?” The bartender asked, somehow he was interested, but it was enough incentive to keep talking.

“And it’s getting to be too much. Why do I want so much more of myself? With all these fancy high expectations? I was even offered free accommodation with a friend, even though I don’t have a job and I don’t want to go because I think that its unfair on him and me. Wouldn’t it be easier to just go with it uncaring? Sure, but it would bite me on the bum later.

Is it a want of reward for myself, some unbeatable struggle for success? Most probably, so what I should do is sit out on things. But the fact of the matter is I don’t want to, I don’t want to fall into the dust bin of history not achieving what I can while I live. So I’m a tad too critical and wanting for more, as I just don’t know when to say stop.”

I sigh and look down seeing the drink of satisfaction right under me.

“You deserve it,” the bartender said gruffly returning to wiping the dust back onto already dusty glasses. “Come on, go ahead.”

“No, not now. It’ll just taste bitter.”

“So you just want to go around without respite, fine. But the drink, it’ll go to waste.”

Picking up the glass I stare awhile at the shifting blue contours of the swirling liquid, wondering if I should take the break and take a sip. Based on what I said earlier I’m probably addicted to this stuff.

“I dunno, I think there’s more I can pay. I mean there’s this whole issue with old school friends – uni friends and what to do with friends that you’re not too sure about.”

“There’s only going to be one drink for today, go ahead drink up and come back when you’re thirsty and sober enough for some of the good stuff.”

The drink swirled again, turning to a deeper hue of blue.

“You’re probably right.”

“Damn straight, I’m everyman’s conscious right next to the liquid desire. Now drink and get your damn ass out of here.”

I took a swig of the drink, expecting the taste to be bitter, but it was sweet, like water when your thirsty, or honey and milk soothing a sore throat. It was a quick momentous thing, and that’s  probably what’ll get me through the week. Stepping up and out of the door, the bartender calls out once more.

“Don’t take too long, you may forget the way back.”

So shaking off the crowded cookies, I make my way back through the net, past the forgotten entries, to the more popular and recent places of Facebook and Hotmail, filled with satisfaction.

Thanks, until next time.

Daniel