A Night In Aberdeen (Leave The Porch Light On) in Creative Writings; The Workings Of A Split-Level Brain

The night is young, and I'm in a smoky bar in Aberdeen, sipping a bourbon and water, my usual choice of drinks, while alternately texting him on my smart phone, which is often smarter than I am. The clientele around me is mostly drunk, or on their way to being drunk, and a number of those individuals are smoking. Smoking is such a smelly, horrid habit. I used to be a smoker, but I gave it up, cold turkey, when a doctor told me I would die in a few weeks if I didn't. I din' want to die, not then anyway, so I quit, and I quit for good. It was the third time I'd tried quitting and like they say, three's a charm, right?

So I'm drinking my bourbon, and he's texting me. He misses me, he says. Why are you here, he says. Well I miss him too, and I haven't a fucking clue why I'm here. It's just where my car took me on my trip homeward, and it's night, and I don't like to be on the road at night, especially when I've been driving for so many hours. I don't know how many hours I was on the road. It was too many, I figure. After all, if I can't count them anymore, there's too many of them. I had to stop. I had to slow done.

I tell him I will be home in a few days, and to leave the porch light on. I'm coming back. I always do. It's a habit of mine. I can't break it. This is mostly because I don't want to, not that I can't.

Or maybe it's a little of both, you know.

this was a desperate journey. I thought I could find some solace away from everything. I believed I could disconnect myself from everything, like my past, which I never liked. It was a horrid past. I spent my time making myself a nervous myth in motion, and nobody knew who I was, not for real anyway. Reality didn't stand a chance. I had no heart. I only had needs, and they betrayed me as much as they betrayed everyone around me. I was my own best enemy. It hurts to be in love when you're like that.

He says it's okay. He says he'll wait. He says he loves me. I tell him I'm on my way home. I tell him I promise I am, this time.

And I think I mean it, because going back is habitual for me, but I already said that, didn't I?

It's getting noisy in here. There's a country western song and I can't hear it too well, but that's fine with me. I never liked that shit anyway. Give me rock 'n' roll anytime. I'm fine with rock.

Rock 'n' roll is how I met him. He was the guitarist in this kick-ass band, and he sang lead vocals. They were great. They even played Led Zeppelin songs with accuracy and skill, much better than most ordinary bar bands, and I fell in love with him from the start. I'd sit at a table off to the left of the small stage where i could see the band, the guitar player, and the people dancing on the small, crowded dance floor. I fell in love, immediately.

It would have been a good love between us, but I was a nervous myth in motion, and reality didn't stand a chance, while schemes and chicanery won the day, or at least that's how it seemed to be for me. Yeah, I was wrong, but I got what I wanted, much to the detriment of the both of us.

So I left, and I traveled. I gassed up the car and off I went in search of nirvana--not the band, but the place, or the feeling, or whatever--and you know, I never found it.

Not ever.

I order another drink. Make it a double. I can handle it. I'm staying at the hotel just down the street. I don't have far to go. I'll be fine. Really, I will be, I promise.

Maybe I'll be finer when I get back home, when this fruitless and desperate journey cross-country is behind me. Maybe I won't be fine. I don't know Whatever.

I'm still going home. This path I've taken is too desolate and lonely, and I'm bitter too much of the time. I need to adjust myself and my attitude, and the direction my life is taking. My senses have atrophied far too long and I can barely find them, and it's time to change all that and get back what I lost by being a dumb shit for so long. It's time I went home. It's time I found a place to rest, with someone who texts me messages of love and forgiveness, two things which I know little about but would like to experience as fully as I am able.

Darlin', I'm on my way home. Keep the porch light on. Thanks, Aberdeen. You gave my life back, or maybe it's just that reality sunk in at long last. Either way, I am grateful, and alive, and on my way home.