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  • A day under the midnight dusk

    Arts & Culture

    Good morning to you... Its beautiful outside, its about 54 celsius outside. Perfect day to go the beach? I dont know if I will, people have been coming home pretty red, but that doesn't stop them. I called an escort line, you know, one of those phone service where they have a pretty girl holding a phone say things like "call me for a good time". I asked her if she looks like the girl in the picture, she said no.. and started crying, I asked her if she wanted to talk about it. She told me that her parents divorced and she ran away from both of them. She went on to tell me that she lived on her own, working at a 7 11. I wonder if there are any in heaven. Maybe they have Macs' in hell. Anyway, she told me that she lived in a single bedroom apartment with a dealer. He told her to not pay any attention to what ever happend in that apartment. She was 14. She told me that he never touched her inapproprietly, no one did. She was pretty at one point, she told herself that everyday in the mirror. She would stand in front of that broken mirror, and say... Irene you are pretty. She said it was her form of self confidence. After she told me that, there was an awkward silence. She thanked me, then hung up the phone. I was suprised. I felt bad for some reason.

    Yesterday after work when I was driving home I saw a man. Its usually native americans standing on the highway sticking their thumbs out expecting someone to stop for them. I always want to, I feel bad for not. But my mom always said. "Daniel don't you ever stop for hitch-hickers, they will beat you up and steal your car." That part scared me, I still feel really bad for not stopping. So I say sorry every single time I see one. This time it was different the man I saw on the highway was white today, he had a shopping cart and a sign saying "Beach?" He wasn't asking for a ride, he was just asking if I was going to the beach. I know I shouldn't have stopped, but he had alot of stuff in his shopping cart, and usually the native americans don't have shopping carts full of stuff. So I stopped for him. I got out of my truck and put his shopping cart in the back. He asked what I was doing. So I told him, "I was supposed to go to the beach today, but I didn't because it was too hot outside." I told him that we were both going to the beach. Mostly because all of my friends would be sleeping, well for the most part, with the exeptions of party go-ers and such. He told me his name was Dallas. We became friends. He reminded me of Santa Claus, maybe he was, and was just testing how good I am. Well my friend Dallas and I drove a half hour to the Macs to aquire some necessities like fire wood and hotdogs. We then drove the last hour talking about life, he's 57 and once was married. He said he married a supermodel, I believed him. He explained that he has never really had a true friend, with the exeption of his dog, Groban, exept he was hit by a truck tow nights earlier. He started crying. I turned up the radio, the song Moon Over Marin was playing, Matthew Good's cover, I thought it was too sad, so I changed it. I listened to Santana all the way there. I don't really like Santana. We arrived at the beach and unpacked. Dallas was feeling sad still but was able to help me build a fire. He said he hasn't eaten in almost 3 days, he had only a single hot dog. We sat and talked about certain things in life, like how he'd never would have expected to be picked up tonight. How he gave up on who he was, and decided that being homeless was a good way of dying. There was silence. I would want to die like this because no one would know who you are, no one cares. There was another good 15 minute silence. I then asked what he had in his shopping cart, he said nothing. I realised that Dallas and I had been sitting there for a long time, it was quater to five and the sun was starting to rise again. I knew this because I could not only see the sun, but feel the blistering heat starting to rise. I stood up and gave Dallas my credit card, saying that I he needed it more then I did. He didn't exept it. All he asked for was the box that was 5 dollars so he could go buy a home to live in. I only had a ten so I gave it to him. I offered him a ride back to where he was, but he said he was where he wanted to be, he just spent an evening under a midnight dawn. He thank me and gave me a hug, he smelt of rotting wood and whiskey. I left him at that spot on the beach. I never saw or heard of him again. He was right, no one cares or knows. I got into my truck and headed home, I appologised 7 times. I stopped at a 7-11 and got a coke slush. I also hit a cat. Before unlocking my door I stopped a second and looked up, past the street lights, past the peeks of the buildings. I looked up at the last remaining stars in the sky, their really nice you know. Try it sometime, this was the last bit of "try it sometimes" he left me, along with things like "don't pee on electric fences" and petty crimes don't save humanity. After the long gaze at the sky I then jumped into a hot bath, and turned on the small television I own, its very small its only a 9" tv, its still black and white. The early morning news was on and I watch a section on it about prostitution, saying that a body was found in the city district, with a note saying. "Thank you"

    Thats basicly how my week has been, mostly I have been sitting at my computer imagening scary things, like horrible monsters are growing inside of my head and making me see things. I know its not true. I will be leaving for France in two days so don't expect me to write much while Im there, everyone says its a boring place, and you know me. I don't take pictures so don't expect any. I just need to sit buy an ocean where people can't yell at me to pick up after them. Well at lease I wont be able to understand them.

    I bought a hampster the other night. I named it Groban.

    Yours Truly, Daniel

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