hellkitten

Hey boys and girls, I've been passing a piece of writing around to my buddies and to the writing group. It's about a girl and her journey through a big city at night on her way to her lovers'. It's been bouncing around my head since Tom Petty put out "Waiting for Tonight". All I've done so far, as you can see here, is throw all the images I got out of Tom's tune into type, and believe me, it's not even half done yet. Just looking for feedback. Is it good? What's good about it? Can I improve? Howso? Is it colorful? Too colorful? Wordy? Does it get across the idea of being alone but not lonely? Etc... surprise me.

mew!

I stood, back to the tall brick building, sucking the last puff out of my cigarette. Flicking it into a nearby gutter, I turned and began my journey.

It was a cool night; not bitterly cold, but you couldnt go far without a jacket. Lucky for me I had my black wool coat, floor length with fake grey fur on the cuffs and neck, with me. I wouldnt feel the dropping temperature for a while. I wrapped it close around me and smiled; spring would soon liberate those rushing by of their knitted caps and downtrodden faces.

I turned the corner of 5th and 42nd, instantly I was bathed in lights; red, orange, bright white. Music thumped from inside the night clubs and cigar bars, a beautiful soundtrack while I walked through the city. Theres something different about the city at night, something in the air, the energy. The light of day always seemed to drown that crucial element.

I passed a group of kids throwing dice in an alleyway two blocks down. On my approach I heard their laughter and gentle ribbing of the games loser. Glancing as I passed by, I noticed their actions animated and lively, reminding me of my own teenage years. I had been the quiet loner in a sea of popularity. I had friends, but I was more the tag-along when it came to outings. Now, in my adult life I had become an enigma, a mystery floating through town.

One day I just up and left. I didnt think about going, I just went. I sent postcards to those I loved and said Id be back soon. That was six years ago. Now I work odd jobs to buy bus tickets to new locations just to do it all over again.

The idea that I can be lost in a crowd is what keeps me going. But Im not really lost. I was found two years ago, in the middle of a deserted park, well past midnight. He quoted *someones whatever* and said that I was the most exquisite thing his eyes had ever been privileged to look upon. He followed me through the city and we spoke of literature and art and what the local medium had said to us at the psychic fair the week previous. We watched the sun come up atop the tallest skyscraper that morning and I had kissed him. Our lives tangled at that very moment and forever he would be mine. He understands my need to go, just as I understand his need to stay. Whenever I find myself in town I cant help but go to him, and thats where I was going tonight.

I crossed the Boulevard and hopped onto the sidewalk. An old, bedraggled woman with long white hair passed me. She was having a conversation with herself about the state of world, and you KNOW thats not good! she kept saying. I couldnt help but think that one day I would be that old; would I still be wandering the streets late at night?

I passed an all-night record shop, glaring with fluorescent lighting, and ambled in. The Ramones blared from the speakers, something I hadnt heard in such a while, that I was tempted to stay and listen all night. I flipped through beat up copies of B.B. King, Lenny Bruce and Johnny Cash, finally landing at Etta James. I took it up to the counter and paid for it, tucking it under my arm as I left.

Back out on the street it was lively as ever. Thats one thing Ive learned in the six years Ive been a wanderer, life doesnt stop. At times you may think it does, but it just swirls around you and keeps going. No thoughtful pause. Never stopping, constantly, on through the night.