(no subject)
These are my notes from last night. They seemed particularly poignant, and I wanted to share. The names are the aliases I use for me and my friends.
"What’s wrong?"
"I don’t know."
"No, really, what’s wrong?"
"If I don’t know, how can I tell you?"
"I love you. But I’m not what you’re looking for."
Who are you to know what I need?
Each bar has its own individual stamp, so by the end of the night your hand looks like a graffitied wall in Philadelphia.
Tonight, I went to a bar that had a drink named after my hometown. Kalamazoo is in southwest Michigan, less than an hour from the lake and about the same distance between Chicago and Detroit. But this bar insisted on making the drink taste like Barbados, with melon and grapefruit and rum. A Kalamazoo should taste like its namesake - cold, bitter, and full of ice.
JC was so offended Kate was in Michigan when he had this moment in his life, this one moment that he so wanted her to see. He pounded the table to stress how much this meant to him, and she was horrified to see how vicious he would become to inform her of his displeasure.
Pulling up to the drive thru’s menu, Kate asked JC what he wanted. “A blowjob,” he responded.
Kate had to catch her breath after they climbed the four flights to her car. JC walked ahead of her in the garage, then began hanging from the exposed pipes in the ceiling. It reminded Kate of the summer she spent doing renovations, when she and a co-worker spent over a week painting all the pipes in the laundry room. Even though JC didn’t swing on the pipe as much as the other boy, he was also seventy pounds heavier. But then JC started trying to do chin ups, and he didn’t quit until he did one. He yawped in triumph, then challenged Kate to do the same. She told him she couldn’t, and JC replied, “That’s OK, I don’t have any tits.”
"What’s wrong?"
"I don’t know."
"No, really, what’s wrong?"
"If I don’t know, how can I tell you?"
"I love you. But I’m not what you’re looking for."
Who are you to know what I need?
Each bar has its own individual stamp, so by the end of the night your hand looks like a graffitied wall in Philadelphia.
Tonight, I went to a bar that had a drink named after my hometown. Kalamazoo is in southwest Michigan, less than an hour from the lake and about the same distance between Chicago and Detroit. But this bar insisted on making the drink taste like Barbados, with melon and grapefruit and rum. A Kalamazoo should taste like its namesake - cold, bitter, and full of ice.
JC was so offended Kate was in Michigan when he had this moment in his life, this one moment that he so wanted her to see. He pounded the table to stress how much this meant to him, and she was horrified to see how vicious he would become to inform her of his displeasure.
Pulling up to the drive thru’s menu, Kate asked JC what he wanted. “A blowjob,” he responded.
Kate had to catch her breath after they climbed the four flights to her car. JC walked ahead of her in the garage, then began hanging from the exposed pipes in the ceiling. It reminded Kate of the summer she spent doing renovations, when she and a co-worker spent over a week painting all the pipes in the laundry room. Even though JC didn’t swing on the pipe as much as the other boy, he was also seventy pounds heavier. But then JC started trying to do chin ups, and he didn’t quit until he did one. He yawped in triumph, then challenged Kate to do the same. She told him she couldn’t, and JC replied, “That’s OK, I don’t have any tits.”