SOC #17: Dim Luck

Wandering in a city lived in by the fake uppity upper-middleclass I found myself shopping in a bookstore. And while browsing through the fiction section I met a girl. In my polite nature, I gave her a grin and a nod, which was as far as I was going to go in our chance meeting. Her eyes gleamed over with annoyance. I said under my breath, "Sorry for being kind." She heard me and scoffed. Then she left to go to the history section, looking over her shoulder every minute to be sure I wasn't following. My girlfriend had just left me, and whatever female I came across that looked close to my age I'd give a smile, or polite grin. Not that I was in desperate need of companionship, but I just wanted to put the options out there. I stopped going to the clubs and bars with my friends around that time so I wouldn't meet some money-grubbing skank, or a slut that'd fuck a guy if she got free drinks; a taste I wholeheartedly avoided at all costs. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but I'm not existing to simply drain my balls with a female at any cost. I would try to meet girls at bookstores, movie theaters, or some sort of festival. But no luck of course. These things, I guess, take more time when you're not drunk meeting new people. Being sober has its drawbacks like inhibitions, doubt, and worst of all, fear. I can understand that. I feel it's unhealthy to have those three things, and being drunk or stoned to rid them from your conscious is obviously unhealthy as well. Whatever, if it seemed impossible to find love while seeking art, I might as well seek art and the love will come later, I guess. The passionate artist will find passion from another later on. My time in Santa Barbara, and my trip to San Diego Comic-con and then Las Vegas, were such a waste. But I must admit that I learned a lot; my sense of character and how the society I occupy truly works really did enlighten my so called third eye those spiritualist people always talk about. Those fools mostly speak of being enlightened by the drug experience itself, sitting in a field of tall grass, laying on their backs, looking up at the sky, or sitting in a room with spectacles of colors on the surface of walls and blah blah blah. They don't speak of experiencing events and all the populations occupying those events, how they react and interact. As with the flow of nature and it's intermingling, people are the same way, they just talk gibberish sometimes. No, I didn't go to jail while partying, but I still felt it was dim luck that saved me, because few times I did come close. And my bank account became weak, and it has taken time for me to recover. When I did, the girlfriend left me, deciding that going through Hell with me wasn't worth it. You know what? It's worth her being gone. I haven't felt this good since being blitzed out of my mind. I've written more in the past few months than I did after finishing my first novel. And I don't care if I'm not making money with the words I put down. "God," "Luck," "Fate," are simply words that someone else had to create.