Moineau Rouge V

Moineau Rouge V

Sometimes lies are so casual, and so difficult to distinguish from the truth that they blend in seamlessly and add to a picture that had already begun to monopolize the dissonance that made up the world. Other lies however are less insidious. They are far too obvious and the truth that they obscure is still laid bare before all of our eyes.

I remember Ana's words, "It doesn't matter anyway."
"How can you say that" Marie replied.

The two girls were sitting down in the cafe, what were they talking about? Marie smiled, "Life does matter, more than you know, perhaps there is no greater meaning in the universe, perhaps there is, that is not important. Our lives are given meaning by the impact they make on so many others. The good we can do, and even the mistakes we make. All f these little things make up a greater picture. One in which we can have real beautiful and meaningful lives even in a world as lost as this. Lost, not over. This world still has so much left in it, and there is so many good deeds we can do to make it a better place!"

Ana stared for a moment and spoke, "Maybe I don't care to make it a better place, maybe I don't care about the world or anyone at all. They are all going to die, they are all going to leave! So what difference does it make? The world is going to fall apart, and there isn't anything we can really do for it, even if it did matter!"

Mat stared blankly into his coffee, at a loss for words as his love continued to spout off nihilism. As she slipped farther into her own abyss. Maybe he should have shown her some warmth, maybe this moment would have been one in which to assert himself, but he just sat there. Sipping his black coffee, and letting Ana slip away.

Marie looked a bit said and spoke, "No, Ana, that's not it at all. You have people who love you, and need you more than anyone else. Think of how lost Mathieu would be without you? Or how much your brother needs someone to care for him."

Mathieu looked up hearing his name and looked at both women staring back at him, both wanting him to validate them in some way. Marie wanted Mat to assure Ana of his love, of his need for her. And Ana just wanted him to be philosophical, to feed her nihilism to vindicate her point that nothing mattered. And nothing really did, because all he could manage to say was, "I'm hung over, Marie could you get me some more coffee?"
And she got up and went to the kitchen and Ana looked at him a little longer than looked away. She stood up and looked out the window, "I think I need some fresh air." She wanted company, but Mat was only thinking of his pounding head. He was only thinking of a mess of dishes he still had to do. So he watched her walk out that door. Alone. Needing him to be there, he wasn't. Needing something more than passivity.

And I still look out that window sometimes, wondering where she went that day. Wondering why she needed me so badly. And of course regretting my foolishness. Regretting my callousness. Regretting my absence and selfishness. Maybe me and Jean died a long time ago. And maybe, just maybe, this cafe is hell. It is the hell we have been sent to for our mistakes and failures.

A hell where I can remember my missteps, but not make amends. A hell where all light is banished from our lives and any hopes of warmth evaporate away. We freeze because we lost the fight. We shiver because the fires that once burnt so intensely in our hearts have now burnt out.

So there I was with my cup of black coffee. And here I am with my bottle of cheap wine. The lights are dim. Jean is passed out, face down on the table. And I question my lot in the universe only the way a hardened criminal might. I've been condemned for crimes I am guilty of. However is there no force that has even considered me for parole?

And if not, how long is forever? How long will me and Jean rot and decay. Trapped in this cafe. In which our hopes have evaporated into the air creating a toxic smoke which imbues our days with more regret. And we are left with an all too obvious reflection. The emptiness of these bottles, the emptiness of our souls.

And tomorrow will be no different.

Cough, Sneeze, Blood Spatter

Cough, Sneeze, Blood Spatter

               The bus whizzed by right in front of her face. She barely found the time to jump back, now desperate, panic stricken and late Ana ran down the block hoping to make up for lost time. Of course grace was not this young woman’s best quality, and running in heels, well that was another event she was, lacking in. Little Ana crashed into the pavement.

               It was no surprise to her that no one even acknowledged her fall. Big cities have a way of reminding us of our absolute smallness, and on that dirty concrete with her scraped elbow and blouse Ana was as interchangeable as the rats in the alley, or the vendors on the street. In the vast interconnectedness of the city, everything became another part, and each part became alienated from the others as it was specialized and given a purpose.

               What was Ana’s purpose? Well, she was late for one, and for two, she was some administrative person of little significance. She was conscious of her lack of purpose, of movement, and most of all of the ever eroding years of her twenties. Ana bought travel books at local bookstores and dreamed of vacations. Or romances and dreamed of being rescued from this monotony, this alienation.

               Getting up from the gutter, she felt the sting in her elbow and a slight tear rolled down, just enough to ruin her mascara, it was going to another awful day. Another dreadful meaningless day, as awful as the last and with nothing to do. And with nothing to believe in.

               When she got to the office, the door was locked. Ana stood staring at the glass confused and tried to phone her boss. Finally she noticed a document posted on the wall, Due to the Outbreak non-Essential Businesses Are Closed. Outbreak? Ana had no idea what they were talking about, so she headed to get a cup of coffee and maybe head home.

               Staring at her shoes as she walked down the street she noticed they were a little scuffed. The clumsy girl fell far too much. Ruining so many nice outfits. Her mother had always told her, most likely she’d never amount to anything or find happiness for that matter.

               The coffee shop was closed too. It looked like the glass had been smashed in, and most of the workers were sleeping on the floor amongst so much spilled wine. Why hadn’t she been invited to such a wild party. She thought she could be a pretty fun girl if the time was right.

               The streets were less crowed than usual. This was good, all the hustling and bustling usually worked against her. In the bizarre emptiness of the city Ana felt more herself. Freedom from some of her clumsiness. Freedom from the judging eyes of those around her.

               Although she heard some rustling in alleys she didn’t bother to look up. She kept her head down. It was safer that way she thought. Passing block after deserted block she saw the connivance store across from her apartment building. The door was unlocked and the place was trashed, but she hardly considered it her place to judge.

               She brought a bottle of wine to the counter and some chewing gum. No one was there, so she reached over and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. Menthol. She left exact change plus a two dollar tip, and a little note with a heart and a smile. Walking out into the road, Ana looked over at her apartment complex, this section of town is really getting bad she thought. It’s starting to look like a warzone.

               She had to force open her apartment building door, but did so. Now they’ll raise my deposit she thought. Some kids had spray painted the wall on the stair case. It said Solomon Flu and it was written in bright red. Shrugging her shoulders, she walked up stairs went into her apartment and locked the door.

               Ana didn’t have a television so she poured a glass of wine lit a cigarette and stared at the white walls. Solomon Flu, what a weird name for a gang she thought. As the bottle emptied she smoked cigarettes and sat there alone and quite defeated. Eventually dozing off with her head on the table.

               The sound of a car backfiring woke Ana up; she walked over to her window and looked outside. There was a mass of people moving confusedly towards a set of barricades. Men in green were shooting at the regular people as they ran forward. Trying to understand what was going on Ana put some pants on and walked out on her balcony. She lit another cigarette and stared at the mass of people. The green suited people were being overwhelmed.

               What a weird sight she though. She thought she must be dreaming. So she walked back inside and lay down on her couch. There was a loud pounding on her door. Ana opened it confusedly looking at four men in green. They looked at her then ran in. One barred the door with her chair. She wanted to speak but stared at them silently, finally she asked, “would you care for a cup of coffee?” The men in green looked at her incredulously. She went and made coffee while they stared in silence out the window.

               Bringing out the coffee she smiled, “It’s been a while since I’ve had guests, what do you do for a living?” The men in green blinked incredulously at Ana’s vapid outlook. Finally one spoke, “We are in the national guard.” Ana blinked, “Oh that sounds exciting, what are you doing in our fair city?” They looked at her with utter shock, finally another spoke, “You don’t pay much attention to what’s going on do you?”

               Ana smiled, “Yea I guess not, work was canceled today, I know that. I have a little wine left if you’d like some.” The man spoke, “You mean you were out there today?” Ana nodded, “Yea missed the bus, and then sprinted down the street trying to be on time.” And suddenly the soldiers had a very different picture of the events of the day.

               A terrible virus had broken out; people brains swelled up and they went crazy. Ana’s walk to work and back had been sheer suicide. Her survival while all this was going on was but chance. The bus she missed had crashed up the street and everyone on it had died.

               When she fell she was nearly mauled, except a soldier had killed the infected running towards her.

               Her coffee shop had been a massacre too. But the infected were in the back by the time she had gotten there.

               When she went into the store to get wine and smokes. The owner was upstairs fighting desperately against death.

               Finally her apartment had been spared the worst of it, because no one had broken in yet, the soldiers had come in looking for shelter after their unit was wiped out.

               Ana laughed, then told them, “They are good comedians.”

               At this moment the door was broken down and a wave of infected poured in. Failing to fight them off Ana and the last soldier were on the balcony. He shot himself and fell off leaving Ana alone with only glass between her and the human plague.

               She fainted. And when Ana awoke she was still on the balcony. Her room was filled with convulsing corpses. She got up but slipped on the soldier’s blood. And little Ana went soaring off the balcony to find the hard pavement come up and greet her. Their bleeding to death, head cracked open on the pavement, Ana wished she was a little less clumsy.

Moineau Rouge IV

Moineau Rouge IV

               It’s a simple idea that man can have the strength to continue on. That a human being can breathe after living with all of what we can mockingly call, gifts of life. Now staring out into the dark sky in this empty café it is hard to understand why any person on the Earth has the strength to get out of bed and give into all of the universes absurd indifferent demands.

               Now I can open another little door in a memory full of darkness, the little red droplets dripping down the side. I see the next morning, after that young girl had died. Antony and Jean walked in, they sat in silence. Marie and Jean nodded and left to head back to the café. Now it was my… well Mat’s turn to speak, “Look, Antony, it wasn’t your fault or anything.” Of course maybe he shouldn’t of said that because Ana glanced icily at him.

               She spoke, “Did you get any sleep brother?” And still silence hung over their heads, the beautiful soft silence of black clouds, the utter scientific desolation of a guillotine, dozens with blades ready all sitting over everyone’s head. Hanging there in wait. The blade begging to fall, but the moment not right.

               Ana spoke again, “Come on, you need some rest, have a drink and go to sleep. There is no sense in sulking. It happened. That is all. You can’t change it.” Mat could see in her eyes something dreadful, like a bargaining with the fates, outside she was trying to comfort her brother, but inside, she was at war with a mix of envy and jealousy. She continued, “Listen, if I could take her place, you can bet I would love to, but it’s not like that. We are all going to die, and some sooner than others, but it’s part of the deal.”

               Feeling a little smart, Mat spoke, “She escaped from a life full of troubles and pain. Under her cheery exterior she was already undermined. The girl that died in that bathroom was already dead. She had given up the struggle a long time ago. What came outwardly as vapidity was really a genuine resignation. She was dead a long time ago and just waiting for the body to catch up with the soul.”

               Ana’s brother slugged Mat in the chest than got up and went to his room slamming the door. Mat tried to speak but sat in silence looking at Ana. It was the kind of silence that bespoke regret, failure, and a genuine insecurity. It played notes of discord that formed a bizarre cacophony, like the scratches of devils along the floor trying to break out of hell. Trying to bring us down to their level. Not as a punishment, but just so we could understand each other, and speak as if on a level playing field.

               Finally after what seemed like hours Ana smiled. The kind of smile that washes all doubt away from a foolish boy. The kind that disarms you, robs you of your reason, and eventually leaves you half frozen and shattered on the pavement. Her lips mouthed the words “I love you” but no voice followed, so Mat just smiled got up and threw his arms around her.

               Embracing in that kitchen, in full juxtaposition with life, death, pain, and love all competing within each of them. In the brutal servile indifference that leaves us in constant conflict at the brevity of our lives. The kind of conflict where no lasting peace can be found. No day can quiet a man’s heart forever. Once opened up it is hard to close the wounds that our real smallness leaves.

               Mat began to speak, “You don’t really wish you could trade places with the dead girl do you?”

               Ana didn’t speak, but trying to choke back a few tears kissed Mat once more. Then in a soft emotional tone she lied to him. She lied gently for the sake of his heart. Ana told him, “Of course not, I am alive because I still have so much to do, and even with all the weariness around me, I couldn’t leave you alone, what would you do with yourself? Sit up with Jean everyday getting drunk until you both passed out at the tables and Marie took him to bed?”

               Mat tried to smile, he knew she was lying. Like I know today. And now I sit alone in that immutable café. I sit alone in awkward awareness and painful readiness for a moment in which I can reclaim for myself a few days peace before letting my body fade away and expire. And I go on living because I’ve nothing else to do. No better plan, no greater purpose, I breathe only because air fills my lungs, not because of a general desire for purpose or meaning. And as the air fills them and the alcohol fills my stomach I can close my eyes and imagine the man I was then. And the woman who loved me. I can picture a world where I was a happy rebel. One in which I stood proudly laughing at the universes indifference. But I’ve no fight left in me. And the bottle is empty.

               Goodnight, and Regards.

Moineau Rouge III

Moineau Rouge III

            And then it all began to fall apart. It was nearly three in the morning. The red and blue lights outside the apartment seemed to be a pretty bad sign. Ana sprinted forward, scared for her brother’s safety, but as Matt caught up Antony was sitting on the curb with his head in his hands.

            Jean had already showed up with Marie, and they were speaking with the police. Marie walked over and hugged Ana. Her pretty blonde eyes tired and washed with sorrows. “Molly had been shooting up in the bathroom. The young girl overdosed.”

            Ana ran over to her brother and through her arms around him. His eyes were watering. The paramedic walked forward. “Antony, I’m sorry, she didn’t make it. You’ll have to go with that officer to answer questions.”

            Jean stepped forward, “I’ll go with the boy, he’s only nineteen, officer.”

            Jean and Antony got in the car and drove off. Mathieu looked at Ana and Marie then at the ground. “Should we go up stairs out of the cold? We’ll put some coffee on while we wait for them to get back.” The three of them walked up stairs.

            It was death consuming youth. That itself is nothing new, but if only Mathieu knew back then. If only he saw that this was the start of something terrible. However, can any of us say that in that apartment, that much in love, with a beautiful woman, why think of the future?

            We all cling far to tightly to the past. It slowly penetrates our reality redefining who we are. In each moment we are dead, then reborn again. Each little second we are all dying and at that moment, Molly was dead, and Mathieu could hardly be bothered.

            He poured them all a cup of black coffee. Marie smiled and looked in direction of the bathroom. The door was still open. As the hot black coffee was drank time passed in silence. It seemed that they had no words to express this untimely death. Finally Mathieu spoke, “I suppose that she took our little idea too seriously, she died right now. And did not live forever.”

            Ana looked at him and finally spoke. “Mathieu, you are right. She has proven our point, and her little sacrifice is what we will remember. A beautiful young woman.”

            Matt smiled, “I hope he at least got laid before hand.”

            Marie stared at them and smiled, “Most users usually would shoot up before sex. Antony probably was waiting in his room horny, confused, and ready for a decent lay.”

            They all stared into their coffee cups. Mathieu smiled, “Well that has to be a little traumatizing. At least I have my dear Ana, and this bottle of wine.”

            As the glasses were poured the three sat in an awkward silence.

            The same silence in this lonely café. The same awkwardness that keeps me and Jean in quiet desperation.