Walnut and Slone. Five in the afternoon.
I watch them as they take move by move across a dusted table. The colours are pretty mundane, but their character moves are keeping me watching. I pictured Easter would be more noisier than this, the slight sound of church bells in the distance reminds me of Rome. Its cold but fine, I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now.
So let me take you back to Walnut and Slone, the two guys who, even with one bottle of liqour to their names, can carry conversation with nothing more needed then an occasional ‘yes’ and ‘i hear ya’ Slone is from Providence, his wife Elene, left Polska to join him on what she was promised, was going to be the ‘time of her life’, well Slone may have said it, but right now? Like now now? I’ll bet Elene is sitting at home watching recordings of Larry King, watching time pass by her window. Happy still, I mean, what’s love worth without loyalty, right?
That takes me onto Walnut, I know, what a name, Wally for short. A guy with more troubles on his shoulders than Obama. Every friday, this guy would venture to Bennick’s and hold up his hand for cold iced beers, It makes me wonder though, where he would get the 4 extra dollars just to make it through the door. He’s known, very well known, in fact I’ll bet whatever change I have in my pocket that he’ll have a different story to tell that bartender everytime he goes in. More free liqour than you could steal from your fathers cabinet.
So how did I meet these guys? Well the story isn’t so relevant at this time, all I can say is that it has become a ritual for me to watch these guys, religiously meet up and let the war of the worlds take over.
Slone told me once, that the true successes of man, come in the form of one thing, any one thing, whether it be the woman you fall inlove with, the house you make your own or the car you refuse to give up, even if it’s wheels refuse to move. A guy who feels money is the core to the devil itself, money is no virtue, who needs to look at the riches of money, when I look at the pattern of one dollar.
Wally, on the other hand, stays content for what he has – right now, but would have reached to the stars to get what he wanted. I mean come on, what was once son to a Californian millionaire, is now sitting in a park making moves on a dusty board? He never told me what happened, but I’m sure he tells himself. As an hour passes, so do the moves, Wally makes time to wipe away the extra dust thats gathered, looking upto the sky, I think of the people I want to see over the fall, I have the cash to, but work makes me think of the time.
This is the time I’ll think, well what if? and how so? and then that’s it, I’ll hear it “Check mate!” It makes me laugh, never would you see a man jump out of his chair so fast, arms stretched and that smile that waits a week to appear. No clapping though, I think the birds sing instead,
Elated and then calm, that’s the way it goes, week in week out, it’s strange how a game of chess can make these guys go from mundane to ecstatic, but there has to be more, see this world like men instead of picture frames, I ‘ll think at this point, my next trip? well, maybe just maybe, I’ll ask these two to come with me…