i’m nostalgic for my mid-20s. and i’m only almost 32. there is something to be said about that. (what a generic fuckin genre trope of a phrase. there is something to be said about everything, no matter how banal.)
Wilco Chastain Park pouring rain entire show / double date in front of me all sat down when the band left the stage at the end of the set, each lit up their own individual j, they slowly smoked their individual j’s, staring straight ahead, kids in front on the side and behind
He woke up, drank some coffee, and immediately began. The juices or whatever they are flowed and he caused trouble and generally acted as an annoyance. Frankly it was the only thing that he knew how to do. It was his thing.
A starter’s pistol in the hands of an arrested 31-year-old. Developed arrestment, that is. The days are almost at their fewest. Two more nights counting this, which makes time short and funny-feeling. It is a very good funny, in case you were wondering.
"That’s my thing. My thing that I do. That I spend the majority of my time here doing." The unconscious inclusion of ‘here’ presupposes the existence of an elsewhere, of which there exists no certain knowledge. Stay the course then, but play the odds that this it. It would be absolutely ridiculous not to. There is an argument for a wasted 9 years. Though that depends on one’s definition of ‘wasted’. And you see, the argument falls in on itself in an intractable heap of sorrowness. The depressing strings gain sound, becoming louder and happier than any normal Tuesday evening.
A litany of open doors and literally no doors closed. I invite more and more to the shindig without the slightest concern for capacity. I then ruminate about the process after it is far too late, and I continue again, acting as if cognition never occurred. A filthy cycle.
The king of non-sequitors strolled down the hallway of lascivious charms, batting an eyelash here and waving a pinky there, all in service of the greater great, which coincidentally is better than the greater good. footnote 1 He swaddled through the tight spaces, made so by post-modern paintings the size of an average American hallway. The post-modernity of the art was a gripping thing to behold. I wish I had a longer span. Goodness, it would make things so much easier. The test is scientific in nature. I even used the method to investigate the phenomenon. It does not work as well as one would hope, for there are too many unknown factors. That is the Achilles’s heel of the entire enterprise: the vastness of the unknowns.
footnote 1 I had my fact checkers fact check it and everything. They have notes.