Post by hkblood on Nov 18, 2011 23:53:48 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] SAIL WITH ME INTO THE DARK, SAIL! The Words: 900 The Outfit: this The Notes: All the love for my replier! He could lie in this bed for the rest of the day until nightfall, but it wouldn’t help his cause any. The fact was that people who would actually pay a man on the side of the street to draw them while they walked the boardwalk near the beach started their day earlier and people who wanted to buy his drugs wanted their shit at night. The weekends were hell, there was a never ending stream of work to do and what he made was so very little that it was frustrating. The beach was good for people who bought something and after a bite or two; they didn’t want it and would throw it away. He wasn’t ashamed to say he went fishing if the burger smelt good. If it smelt fucking good than it would be good enough to shove down his throat. He needed food to survive, water too but that was everywhere at the beach thanks to water fountains and public bathrooms. He had to start this day early and end it late that was just how it had to be done and he wouldn’t accomplish anything laying on this damp mattress on the ground. He hoisted himself up to the balls of his feet against the cement. Living underneath some sort of gorgeous house, their basement sure did fucking suck the big nut. He couldn’t even tell which of his clothes he scrubbed down in their sinks or convinced his land lady to let him do for a few bucks were clean or not. They had some serious unhealthy shit growing down here and he only could ignore it because it was the only thing he could afford. Apartments in this town with all the things you needed to survive, according to everyone else’s standards, he couldn’t even think of getting into. He just needed a few square feet and a window would be nice, a bathroom would be great, but it seemed like it was asking too much. He didn’t even think his landlords really deserved the amount they made him pay, but he did it because now it was a matter of not damaging the roots and hospitality in case he ever needed them again. He decided that since he had a bit of time, he decided on his watch that was forever stuck on 5:37 that he could sort them out until he found something half decent. Something that screamed, “hey can’t you see I’m poor as fuck, let me draw your face for a ten!” He pulled out a pair of jeans, miraculously free of paint stains, charcoal smudges, it didn’t smell too bad – a few hours in the sun by the ocean would have them selling pretty nice, he hoped. He rummaged through shirts, finding that a shirt that said “No War” with a peace sign in lieu of an O was a little too much if he wanted a customer. He decided on a grey tee, a few smudges here and there of charcoal, with seven paint stripes in a rectangle. Nothing symbolic, it just looked nice and decent with an added bonus of artistic flair. Popping out his skull plugs and replacing them with black, he added his glasses just for cosmetic purpose. He didn’t know if he actually needed glasses and the only time he couldn’t see was when he found himself so baked out of his brains that he could hardly walk in a straight line without staggering or falling on his ass and laughing too hard to think. Thinking of weed, he had to make sure he was back in his usual spot by dusk to get his order and then he would set off to find the regulars, the clients, do a little prospecting at parties, and hope he might run into princess so he could ransack that delightfully stocked fridge of hers. He missed her already, but it had only been a few days. He read once that distance made the heart grow fonder and he hoped it was working with her. With his backpack packed with all the things he needed, he set off towards the beach. He actually hated the beach, for the most part, for same reasons he found it likable. He had the same attitude toward both of his chosen career paths, he could enjoy them both but sometimes the location was insufferable. The sun would be miserable or the air would be frigid. The bitches were bitches, the cheapos would be cheapos, and there would always be some fucking pig looking to get him in cuffs no matter how sweetly he sat and looked pretty. Sometimes he should just kill himself, make it easier for the world, but he rather liked living. At the moment, he liked living more because of a princess. Life was slightly perking up for Nolan, by chance. Now only if he could just get a stack of money handed to him and he could just get a leg up in this race he would be set. He would show the world that he was more than just a drug dealer. He had a brain and he had a passion, he wanted to go somewhere in life as soon as he had the idea and the funds. Then maybe he would leave a voicemail for his mother when he called to hear her voice. |