My eyes dart in every direction. At once, I take it all in. The couple cuddling, the strange lisp, the well hid limp, the tramp stamp, the nervous man in the corner. All of it.
And I feel empowered. I feel like I’m more observant than anyone else in this place. I notice everything, and everyone. And they don’t notice me.
Imagine how disconcerting it was to realize that it’s not just me. How weird was it to realize that while I took her in, she took me in too. Just as skillfully. With as much detail. We studied each other. But that’s not how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to be the master. It was like a warrior dance, circling inside of our heads- poking. prodding. lusting.
Is it a humbling feeling to realize you’re not alone? To know that you’re not the only player in this game?
It’s competitive. In the moments when you take it all in, you know your ability will be judged; you know that there is someone watching. I feel that Pressure now; a pressure I never felt before. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. It just means I’m going to get smarter.
The pompous prep tries to wow us all with words.
The soft-spoken heavyweight latches onto an idea that she doesn’t understand.
The Greek nods like a bobble head doll, in constant agreement.
A smoker’s voice fills the once-pure air. So attractive.
And I laugh. Too boisterously. But not at the joke.
How do I appear? Nervous, probably. You would be too, if you saw what I saw.
Wear the yellow caution on your head young man- to signal what lies ahead.
- Along the Watchtower, pt. II
- Writer’s Eye: Cover Art