Tag: creative writing

September 8, 2022: Doing Well

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

In the back of a taxi cab. Window down. Wind in my beard. The sun shining in a turquoise sky.

Heading to the barbershop to get a haircut and trim my beard. After that, lunch with my wife. Chinese. And after that, work. Online meetings.

Actually, you know, I was just thinking, “Hard work got me somewhere, after all.” Here. It’s not the best place, and it’s not the worst. I could do better, and I’ll sure be trying that later.

But not today. Because tonight I got to pack. In the morning, I’ll be in Prague with my wife. Celebrating our one year wedding anniversary.

I can’t wait to get drunk with her, to get lost with her, and laugh, and love, and dance, and live.

I did well. I did very well. Can’t think of regrets.

It’s time to have some fun.

Condega Arsenio for a late afternoon smoke

Have a Cigar: Condega Serie F Arsenio

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

Name: Condega Serie F Arsenio

Country: Nicaragua

Shape: Parejo

Size: (5 1/2 inches x 50)

Strength: Medium

I’m smoking a working-class man’s cigar
on the terrace,
drinking,
thinking about the past
and the masks I had to wear
to get here,
to a place so near
to the stars…

I’m thinking about my father
and how he would have enjoyed smoking cigars
and drinking beer
with me.
He would have been proud…

I believe I’m where I want to be,
but there are other places I need to be.
There are all sorts of hats I need to wear,
all sorts of shoes I need to fill,
and so on,
and so forth.
And there are dreams I need to kill,
all sorts of destinies I need to fulfill,
and so on,
and so on forever, it seems.

Smoking a cigar on the terrace,
I’m texting a friend
whose cigar didn’t burn as well as mine
today.
And doesn’t this remind me of
something incomprehensible called
luck,
and how lucky I am to possess it?

I’m getting hints of earth.
I’m thinking, “I’ll get a lot of it
when they finally bury me.”
I’m getting hints of maple and honey.
This is how sweet life tastes right now.

And now and then, tonight,
I’m refilling my glass,
and I will do so until
I have no more dreams to kill
and no more to remember,
until it’s time for me to sleep.

Hamlet Paredes 25th Year Toro during a picnic in Dhour El Choueir

Have a Cigar: Hamlet Paredes 25th Year Toro

Chris Khatsch1 Comment

Name: Hamlet Paredes 25th Year Toro

Country: Nicaragua

Shape: Parejo

Size: Toro (6 1/2 inches x 52)

Strength: Medium

There’s you,
your wife,
and the dog.

The dog’s licking rocks,
chewing on branches,
and eating grass.

The wife is sitting on a picnic blanket,
sipping on vodka
while tanning her shoulders.

You’re looking at her,
asking yourself, “How
can I make her the happiest person
on earth?”

You’re an average man
coming from a working-class family.
Boy, just a few years ago,
you couldn’t afford a good steak.
Surprise, surprise, yo.
You didn’t see yourself
living the life,
did you?
The nice apartment,
the hot wife,
and everything else that you love so much right now.
You thought, “Nah,
it’s never going to happen ’cause I’m poor.”

But you forget
your father raised a hard-working man.
Your mother put fire in your soul.

Man…
What a ride!
Have a sip of beer.

You were a nobody,
and you’re still a nobody,
a nobody who
likes to read, write, drink,
and smoke cigars.
Yeah, nobody knows you,
but aren’t you exactly who you want to be
right now? Aren’t you
who you weren’t meant to be?

Wake up, son!
You had a lot to drink.
But that was a good nap.

There’s sun in your eyes,
sweat on your brow,
mustard on your shirt.

But it’s alright if you smile.
Smile, you son of a gun!
Yeah,
when you add it all up,
you’re happy.

How did you manage to be so happy?

Wake up, son!
It’s time to play with the dog.
It’s time to kiss your wife.

It’s time to know you’re happy.