In which I use as a pickup line, “The French front was hell on earth but we were all brothers there, yes?”

Posted: 04/10/2011 in Uncategorized
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On the wire rack next to me  is a book cover with Julius Caesar, a green woman and a bear wearing an eye patch. Guess the 70’s had to happen eventually. Hopefully the eye patch-wearing bear is the hero, Julius Caesar is the villain and the green woman is the deus ex machina. They’re by a river or something. She’s dipping her foot in the water and holder her hair up like she’s getting ready to bathe. The bear and Julius Caesar are watching her. Julius Caesar is taking off his shirt. Maybe he’s thinking of bathing too. Maybe the bear is just looking for salmon. The eye patch was put there by a tourist. The bear appears somewhat obese. I wish the characters on all these fucking book covers would fight each other for my entertainment. I could be like awww yeah I’m so boojie you all have to entertain me. Go fuck yaselves.

On the bus a college couple is have a tame argument. She wishes he hadn’t bought drugs from a guy in the bathroom at Skully’s. She doesn’t say which drugs. She is worried they could have been laced, but she doesn’t know with what or why anyone would do such a thing. He assures her that he thoroughly researches every drug he does. Before he even started drinking alcohol he spent considerable time researching the dangers of binge drinking.

“But you don’t know how many brain cells you’re killing,” she says. She is his moral compass. Possibly his Griselda.

“I don’t give a shit,” he says.

You are smart and know that alcohol does not kill brain cells. There was nothing wrong with the drugs in the bathroom at Skully’s.

He posits that she is probably mad at him for missing half her birthday party by being fucked up. She is very popular. Over 50 people attended her birthday party. They get off the bus.

I never said strangers’ conversations on the bus contained a logical flow of thought patterns so shut up.

Three middle-aged men begin discussing the young man’s folly. He will always be single, they conclude (they didn’t see his girlfriend because she has a vagina). He will grow up and get a little smarter despite still being single. He is not like them. They are three world-wise middle-aged men who do not drop acid. The three middle-aged men begin to reminisce about dropping acid, the terrible and fantastic visions it inspired. The epiphanes they had. Their conversation becomes very animated. Dropping acid was the most interesting thing they ever did. As a result they resolved never to do it again. Now they are smart. They drink Gordon Biersch. They occasionally smoke weed. They have ponytails. They feel superior to silly college kids.

Some people can’t do anything but hate.

At a local band’s EP release party a couple guys head out the back chanting, “Whatever. What the fuck ever.” The band covers Nancy Sinatra. If you buy the EP you get a code to download a bonus track, which proves to be of the band covering Nancy Sinatra. You go to local bands’ shows for the music but you really go for the people, many of whom are world-wise (like the singer’s parents, maybe) or not world-wise (like me, maybe). You go because on the corporate-ass Weezer CD purchased from Wal-Mart it’s noise; in the dive bar it’s culture.

I haven’t been to a show in a long time. When someone is playing something I want to hear I just download it. That way you don’t get the ‘Wooo! *barf*’ or the ‘Aww dude take a hit of this,’ yeah, no. Have I told you about how much I love my iPhone?

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