Standing in the shadows of the buildings that surround me I became engrossed in the concept of no cover charge. Surely most of us at some point in our indefatigable pursuit of acceptance and flat out debauchery have come upon a dark corner; inviting at first, it is the mirage we nomads find in the middle of the desert. And perhaps it is what we need, without us truly knowing it to be so. A portal, a sanctuary of sorts. Its gravitational pull is impossible to resist.
And who are these characters that dwell in these places, in these caves deep in the alleys of our misfortunes? Truly they must be mythical in their appearance and manner, these solicitors of souls with their shiny trinkets and rouge spread like paint on a canvas of lips and dimples. Wiry wigs and skin tight dresses pressed tight against our bodies in a macabre dance of ecstasy and despair.
It is intoxicating this longing for acceptance in a world full of mercenaries and debonair actors, holding their martini glasses with remarkable dexterity. They point their fingers and choose who gets to act out their fantasies, while the rest simply drag their miserable existence through the dust of what could have been. Indignation sets in.
This concept of no cover charge surely has its limitations. Its banality while blinding, can be remedied in time. We can be conquerors, we can liberate. The line in the sand is crystal clear to those who acknowledge that the myth is no more than a hallucination of sorts; a provocative affirmation that we seek with eyes firmly shut.
Acceptance. Longing. Do the hermits win? In a world driven by social media, gossip and drivel, perhaps the hermits truly are the winners. They have reached the high watermark. They have seen the signs. They have traveled and read provocative works. The sign at the entrance of the bar flickers wildly, signaling that they are closing for the night. For some, it is salvation. Others step into the proverbial ark, waiting for the flood to subside.
We can be conquerors.
