27 Aug

They always say: “Ah now, you’re down on yourself, that’s all.” Or, “you’re just having a bad day; you ever hear that song: you had a bad day, you’re taking one down, you sing a sad song just to turn it around...? Huh? Didja ever hear it?” Or sometimes they say nothing at all. They switch it up to football or the World Series or soccer. A few sympathetic smiles and then they’re off escaping to their green pastures, apparently devoid of any weeds. And so I’m left on the outskirts, wanting to get in, but not knowing enough of the password to be allowed even a peek. I’m left drinking my pint and listening to the horrible band play cover tunes of Van Morrison, Matchbox 20, Blink 182, Bruce Springsteen, and the usual. A tap on the shoulder: “You wanna go outside for a quick smoke?” I tell her I’ve quit a long time ago. But I follow her out there in the cold wind anyway. We have not much in common, except we both hate being here right now. And that’s enough.


5 Responses to “They”

  1. /\ 27/08/2007 at 3:54 PM #

    this flowchart makes the baby zamfir cry.

  2. Lx 27/08/2007 at 4:25 PM #

    please tell me
    there is no baby zamfir

  3. toadman 27/08/2007 at 9:34 PM #


    I’m here about the Pan Flute?

    Where do you keep them?

    I have one, and would like another.


  4. Lx 28/08/2007 at 12:17 AM #

    no pan flute
    look at chart

  5. slyboots2 28/08/2007 at 12:40 AM #

    Wasn’t Zamfir attached to Linda Evans once upon a time? Oh…that was Yanni. Same thing. Different instrument.

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