Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
|
In a discussion where I mentioned that my family had a dog when I was very young but my mother was allergic to it, I mentioned that I didn't know whether the dog died or was given away. I only knew that I was told it "went to live on a farm".
Comrade: "The dead dog farm?" Me: "It's more of a dead dog petting zoo. All the dogs are really well behaved. There's, like, no barking at all. I know some people like to go apple picking at orchards in the fall, but my family always used to take our trips to the dead dog petting zoo. I think that's where we should adopt our next pet from. Think you can remember to take it out for a drag twice a day?" Comrade: "What is wrong with you?"
0 Comments
I know I'm getting old because people are posting pictures of my favorite "underground" pop punk bands from my twenties, and every member looks like either Kenny Rogers or Willie Nelson.
I don't take Lyfts too often. I'm not made of other people's money. But while my usual ride is away, I've been using them for rides to work. Today, for the first time in six years of using the service, I got the same driver. And it's a driver I had last week, who I almost posted about because of his aggressively playing white 70s singer songwriters.
He's got a Beach Boys fan vibe. Like his favorite Beach Boy is probably Mike Love. One of Those People. Nothing to speak of this week but last week, as we passed my old street in Somerville, he slowed down to tell a Cigarette Smoking Youth that his car was parked in front of a hydrant. Cigarette Smoking Youth, as was predestined, floated the Cigarette out of his mouth to sneer "Go fuck yourself." "Would if I could, man. Would if I could." Beach Boy Fan said before slowly pulling away, and turning up the volume on Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog. Occasional Customer Mostly Loiterer walks into the store, not wearing a mask.
Me: Hey. We're still requiring masks. Him: I don't have one. Me: But you know we require masks. I told you yesterday. Him: I don't have one. Me: You can't come in without one. Sorry. Him: Can I have one of the store's? Me: No. I gave you one yesterday, and you just took it and walked out. That was the lastone. What did you do with it? Him: I needed it to get into another store. I shrug. Him: So you're not going to give me one? Me: I don't have one. You took the last one yesterday. Him: Can you get more? Me: Sure. Do you want to go pick up a pack for me? I'm here by myself so I can't go anywhere. Him: I'll watch the store for you. Me: Thanks, but no. He leaves without buying anything. Just like he did yesterday. My Boss, Literal Statement: "Wow. The roads look clear, we should actually make it in early today. Should we stop for bagels?"
My Boss, English Translation: "Wow. There is very little traffic. We should make it to the store early. How can I make us late?" Years ago, I ordered a book from a publisher I like. And they very nicely gifted me a copy of another poet's book.
I didn't read it. Because I thought I remembered that, once, that poet and I had each gotten a lift home from another poet. My house was first, and I got out, and went in to my poet-filled apartment. I noticed that the car filled with other poets in it hadn't left my driveway, so I looked out the window and saw a poet pissing on my steps. For no reason. We had no beef. But we had a bathroom. A bathroom I would have been happy to let him piss in, provided he at least aimed towards the toilet. But, no, this fucker had pissed on the steps to my apartment. Today, I picked up the book, and started to flip through it, and thought "Oh no. This is not the same poet At All. I have made a mistake. I like these poems and this person isn't even from Boston. I'm a dick." Then I read further and this poet Was From Boston for a while, and they totally definitely absolutely pissed on my steps for no reason. But their poetry is pretty good. And I wonder if they threw in the free copy of their book as a weird but welcome apology. There's a not very interesting q&a session with Christopher Eccleston that's only notable because the closed captioning replaces the word "dalek" with "garlic", leading to two great quotes:
"Garlic comes to mind because I was able to show a very unpleasant side of The Doctor" and "Often we bully when we're terrified, and The Doctor is terrified of garlic." If you find yourself at a funeral service, allegedly for me, and anyone mentions God or blessings or prayers, or any quotes from that book that Samuel L Jackson reads from in Pulp Fiction, or if the DJ plays "I Will Always Love You", "Tears In Heaven", "My Heart Will Go On", "At Last", or anything by Michael Bolton or Kenny G, you are either being pranked, and I am still alive and watching you via webcam, or else whoever planned the service didn't know me very well, and you should say "Fuck you. Adam never liked you." as you leave, out of respect for my memory.
Any remembrances should be kept under three minutes, probably with a turn around the two minute mark. And if they mention Jesus, it better be because I fucked a Brazilian guy by that name, and he showed up unexpectedly. It should be self-catered, and not include anything with olives, raisins, or American flags. Also, I'm planning on outliving all of you, so please pass this info along to your descendents. "Maybe your roommate is from a parakeet dimension."
Parallel. Paralell dimension. And not one as terrifying as one filled with parakeets. I just read a review for a book from 1994 that mentioned that "This was before Iphones (sic), no internet, back when you had to change channels by wriggling the rabbit ears antenna on your TV."
Did this person live off-grid in a swamp somewhere? My family was rarely at the cutting edge of any technology, but we had cable TV, and knew The Internet existed during the early 90s. My grandfather had rabbit ears antennae on his TV in the late 80s, but thats just one of the many reasons nobody liked visiting his house. I'm curious to see what happens if this person reviews a book from the 1980s. "This was back before computers, no radio, back when you had to travel by stagecoach to wash your frilly pantaloons." |
Categories
All
Archives
October 2022
|
RSS Feed