I went out tonight for the first time in over a month. I have been feeling quite comfortable and generally happy in my solitude. Well, it has not been quite solitude, since my cat, ( 
) Nerri, has been keeping me the best of company. I find it strange how animals seem to appear more and more human the longer one spends time alone with them. Nerri's face has been undergoing an absolute anthropomorphosis since I have cut myself off from the fellows of my species.
Anyway, my friends from Croatan were supposed to arrive home from tour and play their CD release party at our local - Sudsy Malone's. I had already heard that their van had broken down in Bumfuck, California, and that they had to get a new engine installed in ole' Bessie, but I had not heard anything about their situation since then. Like I said, I was quite enjoying my isolation, and I was debating all week whether or not to go. After having resolved not to go, I decided at the last minute that I simply must attend, being that it was their first CD release party in at least 3 or 4 years, so I hauled my sleepy, depressed ass out of bed and drove on down to White City (my knickname for Cincinnati, where I used to live; Pogues fans will get the reference). Anyway, the sound tech and booking agent, Chris, informed me as soon as I walked in that he had not heard from them in three days and that the CD release show was cancelled. Oh well, I hung around for some aquaintances in a local band to play, then I went off in search of some good Celtic music and the perfect pint of Guinness.
I had checked out the local music rag while I was still in Sudsy's and there didn't seem to be anything interesting going on except on campus in Oxford where I live, and it was way too late to get back here by then, so I just drove around looking at the usual places that have Celtic bands playing on occassion. I started with the pub that was the least Boxty, but I couldn't quite remember where it was, as I had only been there once. By the time I up and gave up on finding this place, I decided to go to the place where I was almost certain would not have a live band but where I was guaranteed to get a great pint of Guinness. In fact, I had quite a few great pints of Guninness, and that was after the four bottles of cider I had at Sudsy's.
In lieu of live music, I turned to the juke box, which had "The Best of the Pogues" and a Dropkick Murphys album. By the time I got some change from the bar, some woman had jumped up with a fistfull of dollars and started plugging the jukebox full of James Taylor. Oh well, this place is kinda a jock/yuppie bar, despite the fact that it is an Irish pub, which usually does mean you will find lots of jocks and yuppies there around here. She asked if I had any favorites, and I told her, and I mentioned I didn't appreciate her jumping in front of me while I was getting change. After she got done plugging in about ten dollars worth of James Taylor, she finally went away so I could put in some Pogues and Dropkick Murphys. I went to the bar and got a few more pints of Guinness while I waited for all the James Taylor to play. Eventually, I went back by the jukebox to wait for the Pogues to come on. By that time I was pretty tight.
The James Taylor woman came up to ask me if the Pogues had played yet. I thought I just wanted to be alone to enjoy my music and my stout, but the Guinness has a way of bring out the social side in anyone. Nevertheless, her boyfriend jumped in front of her like I was going to haul my drunk, old, punk rock ass out of my chair and steal the irritating, though (grudgingly) pretty, young blonde away from him. That irked me.
I suppose the only reason I am writing all this is to exorcise how much that irked me. Sudsy's is full of pretty, young women who have no interest in me with whom I would be more than happy to make the effort to make conversation. They all must know by now that I am perfectly innocent in that sense because I am still in love with my wife whom I haven't seen in ten years. That doesn't matter, though. Whether or not anyone else knows I'm heartbroken and incapable of being any threat by stealing "their" woman away doesn't give them a right to prevent me from making conversation. If I don't talk to men, it's because I am a misandrist and only talk to men when I must, not because I want to fuck their girlfriends. I don't like going through life with everyone telling me what hangs between my thighs determines what sex of person with whom I can converse.
I think I'll just stay inside with Nerri from now on!
) Nerri, has been keeping me the best of company. I find it strange how animals seem to appear more and more human the longer one spends time alone with them. Nerri's face has been undergoing an absolute anthropomorphosis since I have cut myself off from the fellows of my species.
Anyway, my friends from Croatan were supposed to arrive home from tour and play their CD release party at our local - Sudsy Malone's. I had already heard that their van had broken down in Bumfuck, California, and that they had to get a new engine installed in ole' Bessie, but I had not heard anything about their situation since then. Like I said, I was quite enjoying my isolation, and I was debating all week whether or not to go. After having resolved not to go, I decided at the last minute that I simply must attend, being that it was their first CD release party in at least 3 or 4 years, so I hauled my sleepy, depressed ass out of bed and drove on down to White City (my knickname for Cincinnati, where I used to live; Pogues fans will get the reference). Anyway, the sound tech and booking agent, Chris, informed me as soon as I walked in that he had not heard from them in three days and that the CD release show was cancelled. Oh well, I hung around for some aquaintances in a local band to play, then I went off in search of some good Celtic music and the perfect pint of Guinness.
I had checked out the local music rag while I was still in Sudsy's and there didn't seem to be anything interesting going on except on campus in Oxford where I live, and it was way too late to get back here by then, so I just drove around looking at the usual places that have Celtic bands playing on occassion. I started with the pub that was the least Boxty, but I couldn't quite remember where it was, as I had only been there once. By the time I up and gave up on finding this place, I decided to go to the place where I was almost certain would not have a live band but where I was guaranteed to get a great pint of Guinness. In fact, I had quite a few great pints of Guninness, and that was after the four bottles of cider I had at Sudsy's.
In lieu of live music, I turned to the juke box, which had "The Best of the Pogues" and a Dropkick Murphys album. By the time I got some change from the bar, some woman had jumped up with a fistfull of dollars and started plugging the jukebox full of James Taylor. Oh well, this place is kinda a jock/yuppie bar, despite the fact that it is an Irish pub, which usually does mean you will find lots of jocks and yuppies there around here. She asked if I had any favorites, and I told her, and I mentioned I didn't appreciate her jumping in front of me while I was getting change. After she got done plugging in about ten dollars worth of James Taylor, she finally went away so I could put in some Pogues and Dropkick Murphys. I went to the bar and got a few more pints of Guinness while I waited for all the James Taylor to play. Eventually, I went back by the jukebox to wait for the Pogues to come on. By that time I was pretty tight.
The James Taylor woman came up to ask me if the Pogues had played yet. I thought I just wanted to be alone to enjoy my music and my stout, but the Guinness has a way of bring out the social side in anyone. Nevertheless, her boyfriend jumped in front of her like I was going to haul my drunk, old, punk rock ass out of my chair and steal the irritating, though (grudgingly) pretty, young blonde away from him. That irked me.
I suppose the only reason I am writing all this is to exorcise how much that irked me. Sudsy's is full of pretty, young women who have no interest in me with whom I would be more than happy to make the effort to make conversation. They all must know by now that I am perfectly innocent in that sense because I am still in love with my wife whom I haven't seen in ten years. That doesn't matter, though. Whether or not anyone else knows I'm heartbroken and incapable of being any threat by stealing "their" woman away doesn't give them a right to prevent me from making conversation. If I don't talk to men, it's because I am a misandrist and only talk to men when I must, not because I want to fuck their girlfriends. I don't like going through life with everyone telling me what hangs between my thighs determines what sex of person with whom I can converse.
I think I'll just stay inside with Nerri from now on!
jetta:
Damn! I hate people like that -mostly people in general but ther are acceptions- that always happens to me at the juke box; bastards!!!! man you ought to update more often even its about nothin..I'll read it! anywho, we should grab a pint someday and shit on the flowers- i mean smell the flowers..ehh. 
jakemarley:
"What kind of a person doesn't like flowers?" - Trance Gemini (Andromeda)