Killing Time with Poison & Nonsense

Killing Time with Poison & Nonsense

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by Brad Hoffmann
     
 

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During a Balkan winter, two strangers briefly met in a café and decided to keep in touch. With numb hands and spent liquor bottles, aspiring artist Brad Hoffman sends still frames and warm thoughts to Milena, the stranger from the café. Their raw correspondence takes them on a wild provocative journey that explores life from unique angles: An

Overview

During a Balkan winter, two strangers briefly met in a café and decided to keep in touch. With numb hands and spent liquor bottles, aspiring artist Brad Hoffman sends still frames and warm thoughts to Milena, the stranger from the café. Their raw correspondence takes them on a wild provocative journey that explores life from unique angles: An American expat trying to be a Rock Star, and an attractive Bulgarian business owner trying to find her savior and harmony.

Together they dig into each other's lives, face their fears, and come to an unexpected discovery: A passion concealing painful truth, becoming a hard lesson about life and love.

The wine spills and freezes
Becoming a slick patch of icy
Blood on stone.
There a broken heart falls and shatters, the dying words will never be known.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781481773959
Publisher:
AuthorHouse
Publication date:
06/27/2013
Pages:
122
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.44(d)

Related Subjects

Read an Excerpt

Killing Time with Poison & Nonsense


By Brad Hoffmann

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2013 Brad Hoffmann
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4817-2376-3


CHAPTER 1

[1/16/2012 12:42:52 AM] Bradley Hoffmann: Hi sonova.nadya! I'd like to add you on Skype. Bradley Hoffmann

[1/16/2012 12:46:32 PM] Nadya Sonova: Nadya Sonova has shared contact details with Bradley Hoffmann.

[1/16/2012 12:46:48 PM] Nadya Sonova: hey

[1/17/2012 12:55:15 AM] Bradley Hoffmann: Hey u! I need to email u those photos. Why aren't u on Facebook?

[1/18/2012 6:11:08 PM] Nadya Sonova: I am on FB

[1/18/2012 6:14:41 PM] Nadya Sonova: and the mail you have it

[1/18/2012 6:14:48 PM] Nadya Sonova:nadya.sonova@hotmail.com

[1/18/2012 6:15:19 PM] Nadya Sonova: I can give you my work mail (and this is my own company :) so you can send whatever you want there ;) ) \

[1/18/2012 6:15:34 PM] Nadya Sonova: it's nadya.sonova@ mediathunder.bg

[1/18/2012 11:29:58 PM] Bradley Hoffmann: So would you rather I communicate with you through your work mail? I sent a test email to both emails and I can't seem to find you on FB


From: Brad Hoffmann
To: Nadya Sonova
Sent: Wednesday, January 18, 2012 11:24am
Subject: This is Brad :D

Testing your email before I send photos ;)

From: Nadya Sonova
To: Brad Hoffmann
Sent: Thursday, January 19, 2012 12:19 AM
Subject: Re: This is Brad :D

Test successful :)

N.

Nadya Sonova's iPhone

To: Nadya Sonova
From: Brad Hoffmann
Sent: Thursday, January 19, 2012 1:26pm
Subject: Re: This is Brad :D

You are incredibly beautiful.

What is mediathunder? I think you were trying to tell me at that cafe but I had been drinking since 6 am, so my memory is a bit hazy ;)

To: Brad Hoffmann
From: Nadya Sonova
Sent: Thursday, January 19, 2012 1:31 PM
Subject: Re: This is Brad :D

Thanks man!

Both for the pics and the compliment (basically more for the compliment to be honest :))

Mediathunder is my company that deals with mobile apps, Facebook apps and websites ... nothing too interesting :)

For the drinking and the hazy feeling :)—I had one of those yesterday.... So I will play it sober today ... huuuuuge headache!!! :)

U r still in SF or left the city already?

m.

To: Nadya Sonova
From: Brad Hoffmann
Sent: Saturday, January 21, 2012 2:17 AM
Subject: Re: This is Brad :D

Dear Nadya,

Your name is so beautiful just like your face and your voice.

I left Sofia the day I met you. I had too. I would never get anything accomplished in Sofia knowing that someone so smart and beautiful is residing there ;)

Good job on your company, but I hate all that application and technology shit. If survival wasn't an issue, I would hand write beautiful poetic letters instead of email. I would utilize a type-writer for my publishing endeavors rather than use my laptop. I would play Franky on the record player while spending hours in a dark room developing 35mm film instead of using ITunes and Photoshop

This world is becoming too fast paced, and this connection speed is increasing complacency and decreasing the value of life. We have distorted reality. It's an illusion that we are really connected. We aren't moving up in the world with this, but rather spiraling down. We are just moving too fast to realize it.

Accept or change, some people say. Well to accept where the world is going is to change, in my opinion. Instincts will come in to play and we will all have to change. I don't want to though. But it's already happening and I hate it.

Anyways I am sorry about your headache. I never get those anymore. I stick to just vodka and beer, or wine when I go out drinking. Mixing things can really mess you up. When I wake up after a long night of drinking, I always have a cold beer or a shot "For health" before I start my day, and throughout the day, I drink water and stay busy with my work. And of course I like to smell fresh air and feel the sun's rays if there are any.

I'm drinking wine right now. Trying to calm my nerves. I am bit shaky from too much caffeine and lack of sleep. Last night the power went out in the apartment just as I was about to sit down and write. It was a bit cold and I was hungry, so I asked my friend Matty if he wanted to go up the way to get something to eat and have some beers. We called a cab and smoked a cigarette by the candle drinking the last of our beer while we waited. My cab driver Velli came and we hopped in his car and drove away, only to find that the power is out everywhere in the village. We didn't know what to do, so I asked him "What are your plans tonight, Velli?"

He told me he was going to take an Albanian couple to Skopje for a few hours, so I intrusively invited my friend and myself to come along for the ride.

The people were not happy with their self-invited rambunctious and loud singing company. I didn't care.

I asked Velli to stop at the Petrol station so we could get more beer. And we continue our loud singing and excessive drinking all the way to Skopje.

Since I was an intrusive guest and the Albanian couple seldom ever go to Skopje, I recommended my favorite venue for debauchery: Marakana.

I knew they wouldn't like it, but these days I care more about my friend and myself, and I knew my friend Matty would love the place.

The buzz from our beers combined with the live rock music filled my soul with energy and I danced up the steps, greeted the familiar faces of security and danced straight on to the bar, not even looking back, and I ordered 4 shots of Polish vodka. My friends smile spoke more than a thousand words. He loved the place already.

We danced and laughed and chatted and shot vodka as we made many temporary friends. Broken beer bottles and shot glasses were littered on the floor but the barman just smiled and rocked his head to the loud and live music. We were rock stars. Drinks were on us and we didn't give a fuck.

Velli and the Albanian couple vacated the premises and we didn't mind it at all. We continued the excess and when the bar closed we took the party for a walk through the city park and into some cabs en-route to the Hotel Continental, where we destroyed two rooms and depleted two mini bars with quickness as the morning sun was rising so beautifully and easy.

Fortunate for me, I saved a beer for the morning, and at 11am when I rose to the day, I drank that beer and smiled as I looked out from the window of our luxurious room. I laughed at the thoughts of last night and I lit my cigarette and enjoyed the epic view of Skopje.

We went down stairs to get breakfast but it was over already, so we headed to the bar as we waited for our cab to pick us up. There was no one at the bar, not even a bar tender, so I helped myself to some drinks and stole a bottle of wine. Like I said, I didn't give a fuck. When the bar-maid finally came, we were on our way out, she was oblivious to the crimes we had committed, so out of pity, I tipped her nicely. She looked perplexed as I took a swig straight from the bottle and I made an ever so dramatic exit, yelling some obscene language, disrupting any peace there may have been and destroying any reputation Hotel Continental may have had for being a peaceful and elegant Hotel.

Classy yet decadent, I am.

No regrets as I watched the blur of hills out the back seat of the cab's window. We sped north on E-65 en-route to my place of work in Kosova and Matty, my fatigued friend laid his head gently on the window and tried to catch a nap. I just sat there with my bottle of stolen Aleksandria wine and my cigarette smoke, contemplating my life as life was flying by.

My life is a journey that no one could comprehend it, because it is mine.

My hopes and dreams may seem futile in one's eyes, but in my eyes, all I can see is potential. The purpose? Perhaps some higher power knows, maybe a God or something knows. Perhaps I even know, but my own insecurities put up a wall dressed with barbed wire and broken glass. To write is the only way to tear it down.

And as I sit here, sipping this cheap red wine, here in this disputed land, where the power goes on and off every hour, my candle flickers and fades but my inspiration stays. Content. I am. Concerns, I have. But I have faith that everything will be more that okay.

What is Matty doing here? What am I doing here? Sometimes I ask these questions. Not from ignorance; I know the answers, But because this reality is so surreal.

Do you know that feeling you get when you are climbing to an apex of some sort and you look down and you see how far the fall is. That feeling you get when you know that your fate just may lay at the bottom. Like a roller coaster, your train is climbing up the tracks, the clicking matches your beating heart and you look down as u reach the peak and you glance over the side and see how far you are going to fall, and then it happens. You are terrified, but you have a sense of excitement mixed with a false sense of security that the safety belt you are wearing and the engineers who created this ride of your life has perfected it, but what is perfect? Nothing. Who is to say that you won't derail and take part in a fatal collision that may sever your limbs or break your neck? Then you are floating in air for moment and for just one moment you're distracted by a feeling of bliss. The stress of life is frozen and time stands still. You see everything so clearly. You are on top of the world, and all your questions of life are answered with this clear exposure of life. Then everything becomes a blur. Your stomach tickles your lungs as you scream for mercy. The seat belt presses against your hip so hard that you enjoy the pain just for the mere fact that it is the only thing keeping you from falling out of that train and falling 100 meters to your quick and painless death. Then gravity takes over and you hold on to your tightly welded safety bar and you continue the wild ride just relieved that you survived that incredible drop.

Something that seems so pointless but so enjoyable that you stand in line for 45 minutes just to do it again. A ride called life.

Cigarette after cigarette, time burns away. The bottle becomes empty, and I am filled with poison and nonsense just so I can simply numb my senses. I have too many of them. I toss and turn in my sleep as my mind races and paces, back and forth. I write page after page of my thoughts in these journals and ramble on about my life, thinking that one day someone might actually care to read all of this. Just killing time I say. The cycle of strife is a clock.

And more often than not, I don't have the time. I don't have the time to learn the guitar or tap dance. Or swing dance. Or even Waltz or Tango. No time for scuba diving or sky diving. Nor do I have the time to learn the arts or learn to paint. I don't have time to fall in love or hurt. I don't have the time because I am slow and the world is too fast.

It is keep up or die these days. And more times than I'd like to admit, I think about dying.

Across my neck is the words : Losing All Hope Is Freedom.

These days I have too much hope, so I don't have time for freedom.

My naive dreams keeps me alive and that is why I stand in line for 45 fucking minutes for the ride of my life.

I may not make much sense. But what does?

You tell me....

:*

[1/24/2012 12:45:47 PM] Bradley Hoffmann: You online?

[1/24/2012 12:47:34 PM] Bradley Hoffmann: Cheers

To: Nadya Sonova
From: Brad Hoffmann
Sent: Thursday, January 26, 2012 3:42 AM
Subject: Re: This is Brad :D

Well your lack of a reply tells me a lot ...

To: Brad Hoffmann
From: Nadya Sonova
Sent: Thursday, January 26, 2012 8:42 AM
Subject: Re: This is Brad :D

It should tell you that I am AMAZED by you!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You are an author! And you are really amazing in writing ... it was a story I'd read from a book!!!

And now I am trying to reply.... And.... I am writing short stories ... and haven't done that for a long time ... and I got so enthusiastic when I wrote yours ... and then I started writing you ... and found out that my life is so BOARING!!!

And I crawled into bed and stayed there 2 days, drinking wine to the point when thinking stops....

I come up with few truths about me.... Few ideas ... lots of additional thoughts....

And I will reply to you! Not because I have to but because I want to.... It will just take a bit more time to do so!

To: Nadya Sonova
From: Brad Hoffmann
Sent: Thursday, January 26, 2012 11:51 AM
Subject: Re: This is Brad :D

Time....

My mangled body was just lying in my couch bed when my eyes opened and I started or attempted to process any useless information for the day. Faith in my alarm clock died and I jolted up to see what time it was. Every bone in my body cracked in this endeavor but I was relieved to see it was only 1030 AM. I looked outside and had only one thought. Fuck this.

Discipline and will power were things I had acquired in the Army and the war. Most days I am grateful for it, but this day that irregular couch bed looked more appealing than the thought of responsibility. I stumbled to the fridge and the thought cross my mind once again. Fuck this.

No beer? Damn, what did we do last night? I know what we did....

Muscle memory took control of my strategies, for when I wake up, I need to make my bed to increase my chances of not falling back into sweet and warm slumber. I washed my face with cold water to compensate for the lack of cold beer. I refused to light a morning cigarette just for the mere fact that it will keep me on edge, increasing my blood pressure and my nervousness. I have to be at work early today and I can't fuck that up.

Out the door and down the stairs, I open up to the world to see a meter high of bright snow piled in front of me. It was covering the steps, blocking my road to happiness.

Fuck this, I thought.

In the corner of my eye there was a small child decked out head to toe with the latest bootleg snow attire and equipped with a snow shovel. As if the grace of god placed this small and adorable child there just for my own selfish needs. "Ej Shok! Hajde Ketu!" I couldn't help but laugh as the kid loyally shoveled the snow out of my way. I smiled at him and flipped a 2 euro coin with a wink. That probably made his day.

I went around the corner to get my breakfast at the small market. 3 cans of Skopsko, a loaf of bread and some Pop Keks. I didn't even wait as I opened my breakfast in the store and started drinking it. The snow was falling hard and when it touched my face it melted. The world was covered in purity, masking all the evil and I could see beauty beyond the deception.

Back up the stairs I went, almost prepared for my day, but my sadistic soul needed some tragedy. A flaw of mine is my addiction. Not to alcohol or nicotine. My addiction is tragedy.

I logged into my email expecting futility and to my surprise, you actually wrote me. And with so much positive words it seemed to cleanse my spirit.

My energy level peaked, and "fuck this" is no longer a thought in my head. Your email and my breakfast of barley and hops as well as my Lucky Strike blues will get me through the day.

An inspiration you are, and I thank you.

The electric heaters are not as capable as how your writing could warm my soul.

"... I crawled into bed and stayed there 2 days, drinking wine to the point when thinking stops ..."

That is beautiful. And what follows it is ever so enchanting, leaving me with suspense.

"I come up with few truths about me.... Few ideas ... lots of additional thoughts...."

This mystery is such a hook and I am impatiently waiting for you to reel me in. Open your soul to me so I can devour this truth.

Oh how I would love to devour you and all that comes with it.

Time.... Do see what I am saying about time now? The cycle of strife is a clock. Everything takes time.

Someone once asked me. "If you could have one wish what would it be?"

I used to say I would not wish for anything, not even money.

But I changed my mind.

I would wish for time....


[1/31/2012 12:57:52 PM] Bradley Hoffmann: My hands are numb

[1/31/2012 12:58:20 PM] Nadya Sonova: my brain is frozen

[1/31/2012 12:58:34 PM] Nadya Sonova: I am moving the office—running around like crazy

[1/31/2012 12:58:44 PM] Nadya Sonova: and it's so damn cold ...

[1/31/2012 12:58:50 PM] Bradley Hoffmann: I think mine is too actually.... are you moving to Kosova?

[1/31/2012 12:59:02 PM] Nadya Sonova: I wish I can hibernate ... and wake up next spring

[1/31/2012 12:59:26 PM] Nadya Sonova: it looks like I am moving to the moon.... Such pain in the ass it is ...

[1/31/2012 12:59:48 PM] Bradley Hoffmann: The moon is a bit far

[1/31/2012 1:00:04 PM] Bradley Hoffmann: I love the winter time though. I wouldn't want to hibernate

[1/31/2012 1:00:10 PM] Nadya Sonova: well from the logistic point of view it looks easier to go there :)
(Continues...)


Excerpted from Killing Time with Poison & Nonsense by Brad Hoffmann. Copyright © 2013 Brad Hoffmann. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Killing Time with Poison & Nonsense 5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 1 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I only read books that are recommended to me by colleagues that I trust, because I cant afford to waste my precious free time. So the title just makes me chuckle... Reading the back of this paper back, SOP for me and many, I began to pray for mercy. Cute, real cute, nice love birds on a wire, chirping back and forth, I shook my head. It was cheese. The smelly kind. Poor kid I thought. I was going to pass on the RL Stine romance but I thought about my children and thats when pity payed for my copy, that I just finished again. What a surprise? I hope not many were detered from this literary adventure. Pity if so, because this kid can write, and the way he does is so different, and fun, making the reader feel the reality in this work of fiction. Brilliant, the style, raw, and the format of contemporary communications that I am barely starting to understand, but my brats keep up to speed. Shocking, yikes, but sadly the protaganist jack ass asked for all that and I shall say no more. Nadya, I just dont get it. Crazy story, and after round 2 of the 122 thought provoking pages I could read in between and realized, this is something more. This is true life. This is your life. Read this book, and see for yourself. I am giving 5 because the little book made big tears and I am happy thinking about it. Its real funny, its real. I have to go, but really, this was great for my flight. Cant wait for the next book