Becoming more and more disappointed with the underwhelming entrance into the world of art, Rowland still knew that this was only the beginning. Again it was a done and dusted situation, he expected boardroom meetings and paperwork, but instead it was a simple card placed neatly between the two of them which he took and gazed at upon swiping it from the table as they left."'Onimino'..?" Rowland read aloud, "What does it mean?""It could mean anything." Nick said whilst opening the car door,"But it's how it makes you feel when you think about it and how you say it. When I made up that word I felt an emptiness...a sense of peace. Like still water under a blue sky. It was nothingness and it was everything..."Nick stopped to think for a moment, then added as he started the car;"It reminds me of an open mind. It's a richer shade of blue, oppose to a depressing gloom... It's a blue that rhymes with gold. I guess, that's why I picked the colour for a sort of theme for the place.", he fini
The night was slightly cold and nippy out, the leaves were browning and the sky was cloudy and greyed but with no chance of it raining, due to the dry and humid weather that came with the season. Rowland stepped out of the shower with a vague joyous pep in his body language as he was extremely ecstatic due to the past days' events.Two weeks had past and Rowland finally had a car. Once Nick paid for the rough sketch, he thought the best way to spend his first earnings as an artist, was on a car, not truly knowing what it means to be an artist. He was so excited that he made any and every excuse to drive it; that is, until he realised the cost of gas by the gallon and figured he should take a bit more care for his wallet's sake.And though the car was economic itself, it was a classic vintage none the less; he now drove a 1991 BMW 325i cabriolet in black. He was in love and admittedly excited for,Rowland believed he was also almost done with his first painting prior to his mixed media
Making their way to a boozy part of town filled with bars to the brim, stopping at a bar namely called:'Naught(y) catóure', written in a scraggly cursive font lit up in neon, located in a fairly wealthy three block strip filled with other clubs and bars as well as late night cafés in a homey yet rather flashy part of the city. Squeezed between a J and B Beehive and a rather dimly or romantically lit restaurant called 'Casa del Fuego', which was written in big bold antebellum font on it's sign. A band or stereo could be heard, blasting renditions of Carlos Santana from within, if one stood close enough to hear it, among the other loud and thumping sounds of beats and club's zeff and hype.And with all the neon lights and lasers light shows that where happening inside the very club house that which they were so eager to go into, was so bright to Rowland that they could be seen from outside the very entrance to the place. It seemed as though on a Saturday night like this, a place such a
Once inside, Nick started looking through the crowed and, for some reason, smokey place."What, you looking for your aggressor?", Rowland asked as they squeezed through the entrance filled with inconsiderate people, having to shout a bit as they passed the threshold once the thudding of music got louder."Maybe.""Stockholm's syndrome, much?", Rowland asked."Hey, we all get a little loopy when you throw in a pretty face.", Nick smiled, just as some random zombie girl grabbed him from behind and put a hair band with horns that lit up in different colours on his head as he disappeared with her into the crowd.'Wow that is... So backwards.', Rowland thought.Now left alone, he was too high to even care about where he was or what he was doing before or at that very moment; it was just the way he liked it, though he decided to look for Charlotte anyway.Rowland wanted to know if he could buy more weed from her and if she was okay for, he did come here for her. But had left Charlotte by th
It was ten o'clock and going for noon.Rowland jolted awake to the sound of music as it bounced around the seemingly empty house just as the beat changed and it's high pitched echo caught his ear accompanied by the angelic screech of familiar vocals.The now bright and flowing room's light hurt Rowland's eyes, he lay face down on Nick's dark genuine leather bound couch latched onto a throw pillow with his leg dangling over the seats, his slightly sandy shoes lay across the carpet. He wiped drool from his face as he lifted his chin slowly and the first thing he saw was the cap of a water bottle over the arm of the couch, his head felt like a minibus, and so he plunked it down feeling his back ache from the position he laid in while he thought about the fist in his dream that woke him up.'Or was it a dream..?', he thought as he felt his face lightly sting and ache, as well as that thing called a brain behind it; right now he hated his brain and it fought him back as it sloshed around i
And for a long time, and as he woke up; Rowland felt as though he was getting tired of this state of purgatory with the added benefit of an ocean he could never look passed behind palm trees, in limbo's little sandbox city he ran the race of mice as he felt that hollow feeling better described as being a weed in the ocean, simply letting the waves wish-wash his seemingly weak and worn form to whichever direction it pleased.So he decided to stand up or rather sit up, then stand up, then quickly sat down again due to the head rush, and then up again.He felt like a new born baby, he could feel everything; like his bone under his skin as some of his joints ached, or how his recovered brain sloshed around loosely behind his tired eyes with no real pain. Kind of like how one would feel after having a full body cast removed; as if in an instant, he could just crumble into pieces like a well baked cookie:'Remind me why we drink again..?', he thought to himself laughing in a moment of dark
Cycling through these feelings, or lack there of over and over again like the wheels that rode him towards the end, and ushering him towards the beginning. And just like the wheels from under him, his thoughts were cycling so much so that they appeared to be standing still, and his mind went void. To the point Where all he could think about was how he could start again, reinvent himself and make a name for himself and whatnot. Finding his way back to the hill cliff that which all had started. He found Nick atop it, sitting on his parked car's hood and smoking what appeared to be a carrot..?'What am I looking at, here? Orange blunt wrap?' ,Rowland glanced in Nick's direction as he parked his own car. Staring at the orange thing in Nick's hand with his sub-par vision. Getting out with sheer curiosity in play and his hands in his hoody's pockets, shying away from the cold with his shoulders to his ears. Nick paid no attention to Rowland coming in but turned his attention to him as soon
Driving was always a scapegoat to Rowland, and he always felt that this was one thing that will always feel good to him, as if an exfoliation of his very soul took place at times when he drove, even if it was just for milk and butter. Having a car gave him the freedom to run away from his problems and thoughts unwanted, and to ride to a place where it all could happen for him. Still healing from his wounds, he couldn't say he saw any of this coming; from the good, down to the bitterly bad that had happened during this week alone.But none the less, it was Rowland's time to test if the legends of stars coming to be in Los Angeles are true, and if he has what it takes to prove that theory within himself. As he holds his breathe and an idea in his mind, filling himself to the brim with the necessary nerve and inspiration which urged him further towards the town of lost angels, in the hopes that he could find his own way.Without Her, or that place sitting on his chest as for the first ti