johnnyfive

my mom's house smells like my youth. it is an indescribable olfactory sensation that rips apart the space-time continuum, placing me in the empty halls yesteryear. pictures of my siblings and forefathers sung out to me as i walked the stubby hallway towards the guest room, with songs that i had heard but were written many years before i was born. nicknacks alligned curio shelfs, lightly sprinkled with dust, awaiting the loving and cleansing hands of my dying mother. the ceiling fan in the room gave the soft-white bulbs a slight strobe effect, spilling blasts of the light around the white room. there were enough pillows on the bed to sleep every single member of my family, so i scooted them onto the floor and unsettled the sheets, preparing to down myself. there were an array of old school pictures to the left of the dresser mirror. i looked at my 10th grade picture and i could feel the crisp air on my face from that morning. i tried to skip class while we were being let out for the pictures and was caught by coach janseen. i was wearing a bugle boy shirt that my mom had bought damaged at and outlet mall and i was hoping the facade of wealth was being well percieved by my peers. next to those were my senior portraits. a serious of ridiculously embarrasing pictures ranging from me in a tuxedo to me in a striped yellow and blue Gap shirt sporting a gold chain. my hair is reminiscent of a feathered tony-hawk-80s-skater cut and my mouth is agape. the lack of an 11th grade picture is because i refused to take one and would rather have skipped class with my oh-so-hardcore punk buddies. we would cram into a 1978 datsun 900 and smoke marlboro reds. each high school picture looked at me with contempt as i did the same, looking into the mirror at the man who was now a decade older than these four kids. each year of my youth held contempt for not recognizing the oppurtunities of youth and making them the man before them. each picture beamed of lost love and missed chances. even the mirror's reflection had an unnatural sneer in it as i stared at myself. i didn't look like me; or at least how i pictured myself. the effect was numbing, so i started to settle myself down in the stiff bed. i reached over to the alarm and noticed to pictures. they were of me and my most recent exgirlfriend. the one that engulfed nearly seven years of my life, giving me some of the worst and best memories i think i'll ever have. i couldn't help but laugh when i looked at the smile on our faces in the pictures. the confidence of our love and bonding. if only a pixie could have brushed up on our shoulders and whispered the reality of our destinies in our ear. if only we could have had the insight to human dynamics and their unpredictability. if only i knew that i would be typing multiple sentences that started off with "if only" some ten years later. after finally falling asleep, my dreams were laced with images of the past. in my slumber the timeline of my existence unraveled and became a ball of yarn, and my subconcious was a metaphorical cat, playing with the yarn and knotting it up in a frenzy. the alarm that woke me was an old fashioned bell and hammer one; and it nearly gave me a heart attack as it vociferously rose me from sleep. the water pressure in my mom's shower was signifigantly lower than at my house and it's drip reminded me of visiting the beach. it dawned on me that for some reason i always aquaint a place with it's water pressure and i thought that was kind of weird. the tie felt extra tight around my neck, like a business nouse. i only have two ties and i was there for three days, so i had to wear this one twice. maybe no one would notice, just like my bugle boy shirt in 10th grade, and i would be able to assimilate with my peers. mabye no one cared. i took the bus to the subway station and four connections later i arrived at the embassy sweets hotel where my company was staying. i borrowed someone's meal card and helped my self to the complimentary and very generic breakfast buffet. i ate around tired old men wrapped up like pinstripe mummies in their suits. women who looked as if they had a large ass just below their belly buttons kept carrying trays of watered down juices to tables in the back and the grits had cheese that looked like melted plastic in it. on the trip home, it rained all through out georgia and south carolina. by the time we were coming upon charlotte, the rain had gave up and the sun's rays were piercing the dark underbellies of the scattering clouds. the sky was pink and blue, like cotton candy at a carnival, and there was a huge and clear rainbow arched in the sky. i found a way to rest my head on the seatbelt, kind of like a head hammock, and i slept an uncomfortable sleep until i was dropped off. my apartment was cold and empty save for a lonely cat named boo!. she was extremely vocal and rubbed on me with tenacity. i wouldn't get my dog, toby, for another day and my heart sank at the idea of another night without the cuddley goodness of his caramel fur. the boo! nestled into me as we fell asleep and once again i lent my memories to the cat-like subconcious of my slumber.