Resurrection

Chapter 27 : The City of Angels and Demons

Any good night painting the town black required a good starting point or at least a nice drop of liquid salvation. I was quite partial to single malt rather than the usual coffee on this occasion. Unlike Hunter S. Thompson, I did not require a car trunk full of drugs to start my high. My ascent into euphoria came from taking names and souls in the crossfire. I had plenty of runs on the board over the last few centuries, pulling on the strings of many of the mortal marionettes. Times were changing however, and the chance of my great secretive existence was ever closer to being exposed. I could continue to keep this low-key and persuade the odd gang here and there, or I could go all-in and shuffle off the immortal coil with a rather hefty soul count. While I pondered this quandary, I sipped down another gulpful of single malt Laphroig neat, allowing a clean and paltry slowburn slick down my throat. I was beginning to lapse into my favourite past-time of people watching.

Hollywood agents stood out from the crowd, Los Angeles was in the middle of a sweltering heat wave and yet these types were still dressed for Wall Street. They continued to high five each other in some primitive ritual as the pack leader was showing off a video of him engaged in some doggy style coitus with the latest intern while his sycophantic onlookers chugged down Jaigermeister shots. I continued to scan the main room of the famous Ace Hotel, overlooking the signature art deco look to narrow in on more ostentatious icons.

A group of ironic hipsters hovered over the bar waiting for more post-modernist fusion artists to front the stage. Their wish was soon granted as a conglomeration of hipsters adorned the stage in all of their post-modern finery of hats, black hoodies and ironic t-shirts as a sharp f word to their ivy league parents and the altruistic lifestyles forged in Beverley Hills, Pacific Palisades and Upper Laurel Canyon. After completing their sound checks, they quickly started to push out their fusion of slam poetry, reggae and psychedelic funk- so edgy that it meshed into the blandness of other new age edgy fusion that was pulsing out of all metropolitan centres across the globe to add to the auditory diarrhoea better known as pop music. The gaggle of warbling admirers were not to be underestimated however, as they soon flocked to the dance floor. I casually looked over at the couples gravitating to the outer rim of the floor, locating which ones were dragged along by their proverbial other in the hope of some sort of sexual gratification as a reward for enduring the grotesque blandness of this ironic band's music. It turns out that there were a number of partners that were here lured by the promises of the penultimate prize wrapped between their partner's thighs. I can't discriminate here and say it was the men led on by women- there were a number of couples with different orientations completely desperate, vulnerable and yearning for acceptance- sexuality was merely the catalyst for belonging.

There were times I could identify, moments I felt the need for a satiated desire and the fear of allowing myself to become vulnerable, knowing that the human condition was incredibly complex, exhausting yet completely charming like that good book that you could not wait to engulf.

My navel gazing was abruptly intercepted when a familiar sense enveloped me and an emblazed feeling of revelation seared into my being. The sense of nostalgia, combined with the surreal and clinically adrenaline charged chi like the force and serendipity intertwined as I realised that another fallen one had graced this place with its presence. These moments were very rare, and certainly memorable. Allow the quickening to dissolve and feel the overly used dramatic tones of As Time Goes By strikes its key into your memory banks – another creature like me who may not be named in her entirety floated across the room, making a beeline for my presence and comfortably squatting at the bar beside me.

"It's been a long time." I commented, followed by "What are you wearing?"

She smiled that usual quirky grin, replying with "A Sales Assistant/ part time model, 27, Leo, known to her friends as Bianca. You?"