Wisdom:
"Reserving judgement is a matter of infinite hope." F. Scott Fitzgerald-- The Great Gatsby

What a wonderful piece of work.

Anyways, I worked another bar shift tonight. You can call me Mr. Bartender from now on. I insist. The bar was slow, not many costumers tonight, a bit dead. But, I had a couple of guys come in right before close who were interesting...

This is how the conversation developed (more or less)i've

Me: Can I get ya something to drink man?
Guy 1: Sure, 2 labatts pints, that'll be all.
Me: Ok, what's your name?
Guy 1 (hesitantly): Ira
Me: Nice to meet you Ira.
Guy 1: Likewise

After a bit a man joins him. They start discussing the drama behind being professional mascots for some local sports teams. The following was captured by eavesdropping. I do not feel ashamed.

Guy 1: If Slider can do it why can't I? I mean, what's the point?
Guy 2: It's Ok, you're great at what you do.
Guy 1: Ya know, that bitch ended up calling The Monsters and saying we never showed up. What a bitch.
Guy 2: Yea, that's shitty.
Guy 1: So imagine me trying to explain that one. I'm completely fed up with this fucking system.
Guy 2: You should audition to be Slider, less work and more pay.
Guy 1: You're right, I should. I have 3 years experience. I know what I'm doing.
Guy 2: Go for it.

These conversations really happen? If I can say... Ira (Guy 1) definately looked like he was his high school mascot as well. He was probably made fun of for it. In fact, he was a pretty laughable character overall. Poor Guy.

My god, I have the weirdest intuition. Everytime when a digital clock is near me and the time is something like 12:34 or 2:34 or 4:56 I seem to sense it and I look at the clock. For instance, just this second I looked at my cellphone and the time was 2:34am. So Gonzo.

Peace

14 Hour Work Daze...


At the end of what seems to be a shift that lasts forever (actually 14 hours is forever...almost) everybody is in what seems to be a mindless daze undoubtedly from too much thinking and extreme movement. I work in the restaurant business have been since I was 17. I'm now 21. 4 years of my life have been devoted to serving fat and drunk costumers obnoxious amounts of food and alcohol. It's a drag.

I must take a shower. The restaurant grime is eating through my skin. Grease is seeping from my pores. The sound of the ready bell echoes in my tired shot gunned mind.

Shower...

He sips his coffee as he contemplates the front page
The headline reads: Famine
He turns the page
The headline reads: War
He turns the page
The headline reads: miracles happen everyday
In small
Whispering words
He orders another espresso

I find myself always thinking when I'm in the shower. It truly is one of my favorite times of the day. It's my belief many inventions were probably invented in the bathroom, the product of one man's complete and uninterrupted thought. What if we could all have uninterrupted thoughts everyday? What then?

I broke into my house today, I'm a regular cat burglar.

The Slow and Steady Fall From Grace Known As:

Time and redundant time again we are reminded that what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. Sure, I believe it. I believe in delayed satisfaction and all that jazz. Sure, I believe it. But, doesn't the philosophy sound a bit slavish? A bit empty with hope? Some live their lives by said philosophy and kudos to those who enjoy it. I must admit, I'm tired of being tested to the very limits of my personal rope. For once it would be so nice to have things come easily. I'm reminded of a fish that sits hopelessly trapped in his small, stark fishbowl:

The Fish

in his clear confining bowl had

No Hand

in choosing his lonely cir-

Cumstance

I Think

about what he thinks about

Maybe

he makes the most of his life

Even

if watching his reflection

Grow
Is The

only way he passes the time

Unfortunately for the fish, he cannot grow legs and escape. That's what sets us all apart from the fishes, that ability to change our surroundings. I'm eager for a change of scenery. A change of pace. I'm hungry for more. I don't have to wait for magical meal flakes to be dropped from the heavens, I can hunt.

My personal fishbowl is a paper trail blazed from California to Maine. Documents across the country have my personal information stamped all over them thanks to my recent purchase of a 2003 Ford Focus. No matter how many miles a gallon it gets, it can never drive me far enough to escape the harsh reality that my childhood and adolescence is slowly leaving me. Adolescence is an experience I am only now starting to appreciate.