My First Story

Blind and Delilah : the cool cult

Cool: a state of knowing why you should care, and ironically not.

Warm: A state of knowing how many people are cool, shaking your head in a little bit in slight disgust, and then being counter through actually caring.

Rated R: No one under 21 can read this. Rated R+: No on over 45 can read this without college student permission? Beginning of story: The Northside Tavern is where the beautiful people of Cincinnati reside on the nightly nightly nightly, nightly. The tavern sits in the spot middle of liberal Cincinnati, where eyes look for eyes and skin looks for skin. This night the Lucid Delinquents are playing their futuristic Pink Floyd inspired ballads as they traverse the sound scapes of ambient music loops, tweaked out lead guitars, softer than jazz drums, and a lead singer who spins lyrics around the hearts of everyone that is listening. In the middle of the place there is a velvety, crimson colored couch that “If” and a woman named Delilah are laying across each other on. At this very moment, “If” is rolling up a nice tripnosic Salvia Divornum inspired cigarette.

“I remember you saying you’ve never experienced the Divornum?” queried If.

“No baby, I’m interested though, I’ve heard good things. “Responded Delilah.

“Definitely.” said If

“I could use something intense tonight.” said Delilah.

“Definitely. You’ll enjoy it, just remember that it happens quickly and just remember to stay calm no matter how intense it gets, you’ll still have your inner voice that doesn’t change. You’re in for a bit of time travel, my dear.” spoke If. On the table in front of If, were a pack of Marlboro Light’s and a small plastic purple hinged duplet filled with 35x extract.

If was slowly putting his voodoo on this paper, tobacco, and divor- num. He was mid-spliff at this point, carefully rolling up another gateway to the nebulous regions of the cerebral cortex.

He was happy to be sharing this natural technology with Delilah. A bit surprised that she wanted to take part, he had planned on going on a solo mission to another dimension while the Delinquents were playing, but since she seemed like a beat to If and since she was curious, he figures that tonight he can be a comfortable co-pilot and introduce someone else to one of the doorways of the absurd.

The joint is rolly rolled and he hands it to her. She thanks him. Kisses If on the cheek and reaches back to the very first time a mammal inhaled the fumes of the foliage of a forest after a lighting strike and realized that sometimes when cellulose is burned, new patterns of synapse connections are made and for the sensitive minded person, the illusion is broken. The illusion of social structure and the illusion of television and the breakdown of the shoddy inspired never ending commercial art expo that is in constant rotation across all mediums 24 hours a day 7 days a week 365 days a year.

She begins to push down a plastic button that ignites a stream of butane sending up a small dancing tongue of flame that starts the chemical reactions that enable Delilah to stare through and experience the lens that the chemicals that were entering her lungs were creating.

Every moment builds on every moment that precedes it. Eons from our potential as a powerful conscious species, we ingest the chemicals that ignite our passion and spark our intellect just as Delilah is doing at this very moment. She would have a new moment to build on, after this, a new memory, a new experience, a new construct of reality to compare to the baseline, the same bass line that the Delinquents were strumming majestically.

She begins to lean to the side, If wraps his arm around her and kisses the top of her head. It has begun. She is being passed through over shaped hands as the power of the music begins to flutter in front of her. She has nothing to say and it doesn’t matter anyways, because the Salvia won’t let her talk anyways, just a pure powerful experience floats behind her eyes and through her skin. It’s a moment just for her and just as soon as it has begun it is over and she looks If in the eyes and just smiles.

“What did it feel like?” asked If.

“It felt like I was being passed through time and was being shown infinity as though this right here right now, is but the least amount of truth that we understand. Everything that I am melted into a blather of skin and sweat and I honestly felt this powerful sensation of comprehending the fact that the universe doesn’t surround me, but that I and the universe are one. There isn’t a difference between the universe and me, and because I am conscious and because I am a part of the uni- verse, the universe is conscious, I have the blood of the universe in me, we all do. The blood on earth is the blood of the universe, the hearts on earth are the hearts of the universe, and we are as much a part of the universe as the stars and the moon and the asteroids. We are the force that feels the universe and the passing of time. We are proof that the uni- verse is conscious. Fuck man we are the proof. We are the aliens that we are looking for, we are the mystery that we are trying to solve. We are it, and it with limitless potential. If, we are it. We are the first conscious voices the universe has ever known. This is our universe. This is all ours. This is our species only chance to claim the kingdom. We are this and this deserves us and is us. We are looking at our imagination that is never-ending. We are looking at our potential in time. I heard a voice telling me that we are supposed to strive for something perfect and that perfection is our collective human goal. We are the universe If, If, we are that special. We are that amazing. We are that everything. We are the potential of the Universe. We are the hands and the eyes of the Universe. We are what the universe sees, we are the memory of the universe. We just are, If, we are just that special. Does that make sense? “

“Shhh. I know. This is the music of the universe. Try and see it with your ears. Try and look at the music Delilah. It’s a nice universe. The television might not be the best part of the Universe, but this right here, right now at the Northside Tavern. Well, this is perfect. We’re holding each other, the music is playing, we both know we can dig deep into the ether of conversation, and yeah Delilah. Welcome to Consciousness.” Laughed If.

“It’s good to be here. I like your velour shirt. It’s fuzzy. That was amazing though. I have spent my whole life thinking of the sky as being up there, but the sky really starts right here in front of me. I have always thought that the sun was over there, way up in the sky, but we’re in the sun because we can see it and we can feel it. We are inside the sun If. We’re not just looking at it, were inside it. We can see the moon, but we are in the sun. I don’t remember what it was like before I was born but I think it will be similar to what it is like after I die. I’m here right now, aren’t I If. This is real isn’t it? This is real isn’t it? This is real isn’t it? This is real isn’t it? This is real isn’t it? This is real isn’t it? This, all of this, it’s real.“ Philosophized Delilah.

“Delilah, yeah. This is oh so real. This is real like, all there is real, and this is real like there are infinite options real. This is real like if our generation survives the arguments of the generations that came before us, well, if we can survive their taxation on abusing absolute power, well we have a chance to do something amazing you know? You said that the Universe is ours? It is. We’re the first generation that has the tools to go in that direction. We can start it. We just have to hide our dreams in a safe place, wait for time to take care of the problem of the people that are older than us, and when you feel inside yourself that you are power- ful enough to stand up to their authority. When you are powerful enough, start unleashing your dream. The younger generations, they want to see people that care. So just care. Avoid all the people that don’t care and just care and spend time with people that care. It’s a hard time for people that care, there aren’t many of us.“ Said If.

“Yeah. That’s why you do this, isn’t it? It’s like I was just pulled outside of everything I have ever known and now I know there is something else. I like you so much.” said Delilah.

“I like you so much too. You don’t need to see it all the time, you don’t want to see it all the time, and you just need to know it’s there.“ Said IF

“Let’s just sit and listen for a while.“ Said Delilah.

With that she nestled up against If and the two of them relaxed. Delilah leaned her head back and gave If a soft kiss on the neck. If gave her a slow hug and pulled her closer. Right now, they were doing what they wanted to do since the first time they saw each other months ago. They don’t even know how many times they touched eyes at the local shows in the scene, they became experts at smiling at each other at the shows and they built up a romantic tension. A silent game being played by two people that were in the same scene but weren’t in each other’s scene. The Lucid Delinquents are covered in sweat and the lead singer, Almedo as he calls himself, has his shirt off, revealing his thin tight frame, the kind of frame that only lead singers have and his long hair harkens back to a time period when musicians paved the way to social consciousness and creative enlightenment. The time when musicians were shamans and lived musical lifestyles and didn’t just participate in some kind of lyrical computerized fashion show. There was a time before the glossy magazines and the professional gossips, just like there was a time before the glossy musicians.

These Lucid Delinquents, well they always made If feel like Woodstock could be just around the corner at any moment, not the Woodstock of Fire and Embarrassment but the Woodstock of Aquarius and Promise. Not the generational criminal insanity but the pinnacle of a generation of euphoria. The memory everyone wishes they had, instead of the memory everyone wishes they could forget. The Delinquents finish, give their grand finale and as they strum their last note, an ebony colored woman steps up and gives a shirt back to Almedo, she is his girlfriend.

If looks down at Delilah and she looks up at him and they give each other another soft squeeze together. They head outside. They are both trying to coyly discern a way to keep the night alive for themselves.

If and Delilah are both standing in front of the Northside Tavern.

If pipes up. “This was nice. Good music, good people, good vibes. I dig that.”

Delilah Laughs. “You dig it?”

“Yeah I dig it.” said If.

Delilah just laughs. “You would say “Dig.”

“Who are you? It’s taken me a long time to craft this vocabulary. Each word is carefully selected for both flavor and perfection.” said If.

“Yeah, so, are we going to keep this party going?” asked Delilah.

“When do you have to be up?” asked If.

“I work late, so whenever.” said Delilah.

“Then how about this, let’s go hang out and listen to music at whoever has the most songs on their playlist?” said If.

“Or we could just go to your place and listen to some music.” said Delilah.

“We can do that. I have some nice speakers and it’s a little known fact that one of my favorite hobbies is staring at the ceiling listening to music with the lights off, except for the colors of my glowing screen that I will try levitate with my mind.” said If.

“We can listen to some music and levitate.” said Delilah.

A taxi ride, a house key turned, a joint smoked and a computer turned on later, the two of them are laying on the ground spread out in oppo- site directions ear to ear staring at the calling listening to Stairway to Heaven, followed by the entire Pink Floyd catalog, Air, BT’s This Binary Universe, and a number of other choice elegant tunes and every Sarah McLachlan song ever given a trance remix treatment. In other words there was some music to be heard and some time to be spent beauti- fully doing nothing other than looking at some waves of sound. After some lengthy quality conversation about beautiful fluid topics, Delilah leans over and asks If what he is doing tomorrow.

“I actually have an assignment that I have to go on.” said If.

“What do you mean an assignment?” asked Delilah.

“I am a professional author and on the regular I cover the local night club and art scene and get to know the people that make the night life happen in this small corner of the world. I write the stories that I come home with and as it turns out I am a pretty decent writer and people dig my styles and I earn enough money through AdSense to pay for this apartment and the items you see in It.” said IF.

“Really? So what’s your assignment tomorrow?” asked Delilah.

“I’m covering a new invite only club that opened up in Columbus up north. It’s supposed to be straight spontaneous because get this, they don’t have any lights in the main room. It’s just comfortable chairs spread over the floor, not just on the sides and everyone has flashlights and red laser pointer pens and there is some low key European DJ that is going to school at Ohio State that spins the softest trance grooves in the state. The vibe is supposed to be spectacular and I got invited to come check it out.” said If.

“You’re the first professional author I have ever met.” said Delilah.

“There aren’t many of us but every now and again, some guy or girl figures out how to turn that damn computer into a genie machine.” said If.

“A genie machine?” asked Delilah.

“Yeah. I push the buttons and the thing spits out a living for me. I quite like that.” said If.

“Everyone has a talent.” said Delilah.

“Mine is turning ordinary computers, into genie machines.” said If.

“No lights?” asked Delilah.

“No lights. I’ll find out if that’s hype or not when I get there.” said If.

If reached his hands up and started to give Delilah a scalp massage. He started to put a soft kind of pressure in circles on her scalp and in circles on her temples. She liked it. They both closed their eyes and started to stare into the music.

“What are you thinking of?” said If.

“That this feels really nice. Good music, nice lucid feeling, mysterious guy, and a massage. Life is good, right now.” said Delilah.

“I’m listening.” said If.

“Just keep massaging. “ said Delilah.

“Okay.” Laughed If.

“I’m studying fashion design, right? It was better before I knew how it worked. Fashion was more glamorous before I knew what kind of work was put into it. It’s so, so, depressing. You have to be making a sale all the time, you’re always selling fabric. That’s all it’s really about. Now they tell you it’s all about predicting colors and new trends and this and that, but it’s really just about making something at a low cost as a company by any means necessary and then selling whatever gets made for as much as possible by any means necessary and then repeat. There is nothing glamorous about it. It’s just a massive sale of fabric at an in inflated price. It’s disgusting but that is just how it is.“ Said Delilah.

“I’ve heard.” said If.

“Here turn around, let me see your feet.” said If.

Delilah turns around and Nicholas sits up and he takes off her shoes and her socks and he slowly starts to run his hands around and under her feet and in between her toes. He is massaging her souls, as she is getting to know his.

(If you are reading this, and you have a special someone, massage their feet shortly after reading this. This is the Universe telling you to do something, and that something is, a foot massage for at least ten min- utes. Now back to the story. )

Delilah is smiling.

“Your problem is that you are real. You are a real person who has real dreams and real talent that you want to accentuate. You couldn’t have gotten this far into fashion design if you didn’t. It’s not easy to do what you are learning. You may not like it when you understand it, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. The thing is, that school that you are going to, that design school. That place is on the cutting edge of capitalism every day. That is where they take in geniuses and they beg them to keep this machine of buying and selling of materials running. They are slyly begging our generation to keep the materials moving. You are being begged to keep this industrial object oriented society alive. It’s up to you and all of your design school friends in your generation. You’re the Research and Development minds in training and the best of you, will eventually learn how the whole thing works from top to bottom.

You’re just being introduced into it. It’s not going to change, you’re just going to learn more and more about what you are already learning about now. You’re learning about the business of selling fabric and dye and how to support companies of people and their families, it’s honorable, but it’s exactly what you think it is, and you’re learning a trade. You help support fashion, and fashion will help support you.

It’s not a terrible dream, it isn’t a nightmare, you’re doing honest work designing clothes and doing the research work that it takes to be a part of a company that wants to survive and that wants to make sure that health insurance is paid for, and that rent is paid and car insurance is covered and groceries can be bought, whenever you buy clothing from a label you’re not only buying the cloth but you’re also helping to pay for all of the bills that the people that make the clothes need paid. You’re buying their internet access and their computers and their video games and their puppies and kitten food, every single piece of clothing you buy is you trading money and making a decision that you want to support the people that make the product that you just purchased. You want them to survive and keep doing what they are doing. That’s the deal, that’s how all of it works. We’re all walking around voting on who we want to keep doing what they are doing. If you keep learning what you are learning, people that aren’t involved in fashion but that want

clothing, will be supporting you and your lifestyle. That’s the deal. The trick is to figure out who you think is the most important to you, and who do you want to support? What community do you want to be a part of and in that, well in the answer to that question, you will find your place in life and it will make sense and you’ll be able to fall in love with what you are doing.” said If.

“That makes sense. Who do you want to be around?” said Delilah.

“People like you. People that might have something new behind their eyes, people that have a dream and that never say terrible things about those that do. People that don’t complain and don’t have a reason to, the people that work hard enough doing the things they want to do so that they are leading regretless lives. The people that are mad about life and laugh really easily. That’s who I want to be around.” said If.

“That’s nice, I like that.” said Delilah.

“We’ve just been playing hide and seek with each other for a couple months, but it looks like we found each other.” said If.

A full body massage, many songs, a sun rise, a knowing goodbye, a promise to see each other again, a departure from each other, two and a half doobs, a post on a blog, a nap and a drive up to Columbus later and If is standing in front of Blind.

There is a line of smart looking men and women waiting to spend some time in the darkness that Blind promises twice a week. Ladies wearing black gowns and black gloves, and men wearing black shirts and black pants. If is the only person out of nearly fifty or sixty people in the vicinity that is wearing any color at all. No matter. If starts to walk in…

“You must be If. Everyone else knows not to wear color.“ Said the doorman.

“I am If and no one said anything about the color rule.” said If.

“No matter, enjoy your evening and I look forward to reading your next posting.” said the doorman. 29

A hostess escorted If to the last room of light before the main spot, a manager came over and chatted with If and they talked about his website and how it was a big hit among a lot of the people at this club. A couple patrons suggested that he be invited to come check it out and that’s kind of how the special invite even came to be. The manager tells him that he should use the flashlight sparingly and that the red laser light is to let people know where you are. He’s told that everyone in here is professional and one last thing, that it’s surprising what the darkness does to people. Something about an absolute lack of light, that changes people.

If shakes the man’s hand, thanks him for the invite and makes his way into the club. The door closes behind him and the music that he heard from just outside the door was now ridiculously perfect and loud. There wasn’t going to be any conversation tonight. No, this wasn’t a conversation club. You can’t read lips, or facial expressions. Apparently this was a club devoted to touching and real body language. Slow, conversational, nice touching. Massaging. There was an unspoken rule to be sensual and not sexual, since that could ruin the whole vibe, not that it didn’t happen, but it only really happened with the people that didn’t get it, and that couldn’t control it, it’s not a brothel, it’s a club exploring touching.

The music has a European edge to it, which makes sense, it is aggressive ambient music. Just the kind that If likes. This is the same kind of music he listens to when he is crafting his craft. He really liked web authoring because he felt published, he didn’t need a book on a shelf to be published but he was writing, enough money was coming in to pay the rent and he was being invited to places like this, he was an author, he was published, he was successful, and he was read by thousands of people that could contact him directly. He was better than Barnes and Nobles published, fuck Barnes and Nobles. He had something better than a book, he had a conversation that he was professionally involved in and well, tonight, he was Blind.

If turns on his flashlight and it’s not even normally bright, it’s just barely bright enough to let him see his way to a place to sit down. There are soft chairs covering the whole floory floor. If finds his way over to a small velvety lounge in the corner and gets comfortable. He turns off his flashlight and turns on his laser pointer. He begins to rock some laser light dancing. He starts moving the little red dot around the room trying to get the attention of other red dots. That is who he was tonight. He was a red dot. He wasn’t a pretty face, he wasn’t a slim build, he wasn’t a nice shirt, and he was a red glowing dot floating around the room. That’s If tonight, that’s all he was. There must have been fifty or sixty red lights bouncing around the room in an odd pattern of coher- ence that didn’t quite make sense. Roughly ten minutes of laser dancing later and he felt someone sit down next to him.

Shortly after a hand was placed on his neck and it began to massage his neck. It felt good. Another hand came over and found his hand and placed a small pill in it. Wouldn’t be the first anonymous pill he ever took, so he pops it. A bottle of water comes his way and he swallows it. Blind. Nice place. Random people and random pills, European music and dancing red lights. Futuristic. Damn it is futuristic. It’s a small slice of perfection, a club with such a Republican, handpicked clientele that for at least right now, it works. An extensive neck massage later, a euphoric lapse into bliss and a new person sitting next to him later and life is taking on an interesting twist. The pill was obviously ecstasy and as it turns out it was damn good ecstasy too. If found his hands rubbing his face and his neck and the couch that he was on. He finds a set of hands rubbing the couch also from the other side. They meet. The hands feel feminine, nice nails, soft hands. Small. Everything moves slow in the darkness but If’s mind is racing as two hands are exploring each other, like a sensual conversation. Like two blind deaf people getting to know each other for the first time. There is just touch in this club so touch is how you communicate. “This is beyond perfection, this is futuristic. What am I going to write about this place? AAAH my teeth are grinding. Fuck it, it feels good. It’s not like this is an everyday thing. Oh man, the waves, the universe can feel this good, this is how it can feel to exist, existing feels like this and this hand. When did skin ever feel so perfect and amazing?” said If to no one in particular, but quite fast. She’s moving closer. I’m used to making the first move. The darkness really does make people different it seems. The euphoria. Her skin. She moves closer. Lips and fingers, fingers and lips. If moves closer she moves closer. Hands. Back. Lips. Lips. Tongues. Sensual Amaze- ment. A wordless conversation, a sightless beauty. Light creates the problems of inequality where in the darkness, skin to skin, all that matters is the rhythm. Just enjoy the conversation and curse the light. The massaging continues, tongues caress, the warm moistness of two souls interacting. It was at this point that If makes a small but poignant discovery. This woman, is not a woman.

This woman, well, is a smooth skinned man. Too cosmopolitan to freak out, too saturated in serotonin to care, nervousness, learning. “Holy Shit I am kissing a man. Do I get up, do I pull away? What do I do? Should I care, it didn’t matter a couple seconds ago? Why does it matter now? Who is going to know and who is going to care?” thought If.

It turns out that when a writer who is solely interested in accumulating stories runs into a new situation that would obviously make for great content for a professional online space. That a person like this in a situation like this just rolls with it. Just slides with it. Hesitation. Gen- der confusion. Is this an abandoning of women or is this the accept- ance of men? Delilah! Oh my goodness Delilah? What will she think? Or is this just this moment and nothing more? Since this isn’t a life- style, why does it matter? This mouth to mouth feels so amazing, not unlike a woman, but it’s not a woman, but it feels like a woman and this guy knows how to kiss. He knows all the moves too, soft, fast, soft bite, teeth lick, breath inhale, neck to ear to neck to mouth. This guy has all the moves. I can appreciate that. Why not just consider this a practice session? A brushing up of skill?

The more practice you get the better you get so, fuck it, this is basketball practice for the mouth. I can live with that. He feels perfect, his skin is smooth, and he isn’t pushy.

He gets it. Fuck it, have fun.

This would have never happened in the light without this pill. I love this, this is amazing, this is perfect. I can do whatever I want to do and right now, I just want to experience this moment. Time to slide away, in search of other skin. Several hands, backs, genders, ages and mouths later. An invitation to return. A thought of experiencing the original. A drive home. A squat in front of a computer screen. A tap dance across a keyboard, creates the following…

Authorial Entry Club Blind:

I’m sitting here with Delilah in my arms after two solid nights of beauti- ful music and beautiful chemical technology. Let me tell you about Blind. Last night, I was in Columbus, Ohio and found myself in a lovely situation. A club with no lights, Shift into madness when the light disappears, club for your life when the music is clear. Sounds and rhythms biting your ear, waiting for you to bite back. Ecstasy pills and velvet chandeliers. Kisses with women and massages my dear. Inhibi- tions lost and euphoria found. Ah, the most pleasing sounds. Gender- less obsessions with the only skin that exists. Slowly exploring sensual- ity in brazen opposition to sexuality. Fair skinned men and women getting on with getting it on and feeling the thrills of a beautiful answer that solves an ugly problem. Some people want to be touched and last night at Blind, you could be touched so much.

Hands touching hands, skin touching skin, anonymous sensations. Discretion left at the door. There were a couple of us that somehow ended up on the floor. Making out with making up for lost time. Futur- istic explorations flooding the night. A couple people pinched my ass. Yeah, it felt perfect and right and I pinched back. You’d think this poet crazy, and in the maze of life, become invited to Blind, and you just might see the light. Delilah said “That’s it, that’s what you do to pay for this apartment and all of this.”

If said “Pretty neat huh. This time I wrote something flowery, it’s crazy but people like what I do with an alphabet. I get paid to push electrons around the circuit boards of stranger’s computers. What do you think?” said If.

“I want you to show me how to do it.” Said Delilah laughing.

Then If leaned back and took a massive toke and passed the smoke to Delilah and started laughing.

Moral of the Story:

It’s awesome being young and if you explore enough while you are young, well, then you’ll have something to talk about when you’re older. Waste enough time right now, and you’ll just get used to turning your potential into regret.

That’s Kablamo!


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