Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
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.
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"
"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.
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."
This past weekend was Pokemon Go Fest, and Comrade and I were in Our Diner (tm), feuling up and catching Pokemon. We had our phones out while we waited to place our order, and then the kind of thing that almost always happens to me, happened to Comrade.
Rando: You know if you put down your phone for a few minutes and live your life, you'll be a lot happier.
Comrade makes the mistake of making eye contact.
Rando: Have a conversation. Talk to him.
He points to me.
Rando: You'll learn things from each other that you ever knew before. Just talk. He can teach you things.
I nod. While still looking at my phone.
The server comes over and takes our order, and while he does, Rando starts looking at his damned phone and then texting someone.
About ten minutes later, Rando stands up to go.
Rando: "You know twenty years ago WE invented phones."
This contradicts many things I know about the world.
Rando: "And we haven't looked up since. You've got to talk to everyone. Everyone. You see a person you don't want to talk to and you TALK to them. Learn something new. Stay blessed not stressed. I'm going to put that on a t-shirt. Make a million. Two milion."
Rando walks over to another table and admonishes them to put down their cell phones. The servers clearly see him antagonizing people and do not even react. Because this person comes in all the time. And he does this all the time. He wants people to put down their phones and talk TO HIM because nobody in his life wants to talk to him because he's afuckennoying 24/7. I realize that even the server didn't talk to him or make eye contact when they dropped the check. The owner, who greets and seats people on weekends, hid in the kitchen as soon as the guy stood up.
I'm on my way home and the radio is playing a remix of Phil Collins's "In The Air Tonite", and it doesn't have the drum fill. Like, why even listen to the song without that fill? They had the opportunity to make it just three minutes of drum fill, and they decided to keep the lyrics and synths?
Fire. The. DJ.