"An autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying....."
Friday, December 25, 2009
Rewind: Spent some time out the other night. I hit up a predominantly black bar. Read that: I was the only white person there. It was different. It was like I was invisible minus a few furtive glances from people ostensibly wondering how I ended up there. Shortly after ordering a beer a girl began talking to me. We chatted for a bit. I left to take a piss. When I returned she was gone. Guess some things are the same at every bar.
Earlier in the night I chatted up a guy from my west coast hometown with a curly haired Latina divorcee. We talked for quite awhile. Like Tyler mentions in this post, eventually the tide turned.....she began qualifying herself and her views....she mentioned no longer living life as a checklist, how boring and mundane her marriage had become...it wasn't the usual man-hating tirade you hear from embittered older chicks left for a younger vagina....she had opted out of an institution that did not fulfill her. It was a refreshing thought.
Play: I am currently putting down a day old half empty glass of some random Import beer I snagged awhile back. Slipping on my dress shirt, tie, scarf, hat, coat....then heading out to see a bartender buddy then into the vast beyond that is holiday drinking. The brink beckons its favorite son with garish nails and lascivious promises of abasement.
Was chatting with a buddy omway back from seeing my moms earlier. I lamented how long it'd been since I saw a girl that stopped me dead in my tracks. My LTR's the last time I locked eyes with a girl and immediately knew I would speak to her and take a swing. I head forth into the night with no expectations. My body still feels fairly ravaged from last night's 5 hour drinking spree. A good friend of mine lives by the following creed: Expect nothing. Accept everything. I could sit at home. I could find comfort in silence and the internet (porn). I could drink alone or I could set out on the thousandth night of my quest for refuge from boredom.
I'm hoisting the black flag. I'm heading out undaunted into another night in the brink. I bid thee well faithful readers. Do as you feel led. Best of luck and happy hunting for your desires. I'm out hunting my white whale.....on Christmas. Go hard or fucking go home. -With Greatest Affection