Small, aimless circles.
The floorboard creaked with every anguished step as I paced about my sparse little bungalow. Smoke hung in every room; every corner, nook and cranny. These small, aimless circles always lead me to the same spot, staring at my computer screen, as blank as my gaze. I took (another) drink, and paced about some more, searching my mind for something—anything.
Distractions didn’t work. I thought that maybe if I scrubbed my toilet with all the fervor of an obsessive compulsive germaphobe, grand inspiration might be conjured by the alluring combination of cleaning products.
I sighed heavily, and went to the kitchen to fix (another) drink. My brain was quickly becoming a very random modern jazz solo with no structure outside of beginnings and ends.
It was all just noise at this point.
I sat down at my desk and put my hands on the keyboard, hoping they might do something on their own, but they merely sat quietly, waiting for instructions.
“Perhaps,” I thought, “I should just give up.”
Maybe I had no right even trying. Maybe this wasn’t why I was here. I began to think about khaki trousers and golf shirts. I tried to imagine myself as that guy.
As someone else entirely.
I entertained the notion for a bit, tickled at first by the thought of such normalcy. I took (another) drink and stood up, still thinking about big houses, big cars and big families. What if I was wrong this whole time? What if I were really put on this earth to be an accountant? What if everything I had dedicated my life to was mere folly?
“Maybe this is why there’s no longer a Kurt Cobain,” I thought quietly.
Every ashtray sat full of half-smoked butts extinguished by neglect. Each abandoned smoke inspired another as I paced aimlessly about the bungalow in search of something that was not there.
No matter where I looked, all he found was smoke.
This had been going on for weeks now, these small circles through the house. The heavy sighs and blank pages staring up at me, shaking a bony finger in my general direction.
Outside, dogs barked and lawn mowers roared. Birds sang, people walked and life progressed. I thought about joining them, for a brief moment before resuming my small, aimless circles.
I took (another) drink and sat back down.
I didn’t look good in khaki anyway.