Marc
It was our boy Sean's birfday tonight, and we took him out, and showed him a good time, and now I believe that he and the rest of the crew are at their apartment, getting "small". Way to go bro's!
So, I'm back at my place, tired as all fuck from this long ass day of work, and the driving, and the developing of film, and the scanning of pictures, and the writing, and the monkey, almost stole the ... oh. Nevermind. I always slip back into those Simpsons quotes, which I guess is alright. I'm cool. I can do that, right? I'm allowed. For real, though. The drinking, and the seeing of Jenn, who always knows how to make what I say out loud not make any sense, and I always walk away feeling dumber for trying to explain my senseless actions to her, while she just stands there, and shakes her head, and looks at me through those glasses, and I feel small myself, much smaller than I actually am.
Yeah. I admit it. I'm an idiot. I have no idea how to handle emotions, or relationships, or whatever. It's all this big, tangled, stupid mess inside my brain that gets twisted and contorted and jumbled around, until I don't know up from down, or left from right, and next I know, I'm at a bar, talking to Jenn, who I truly like. She's genuine, and she calls you on your fronts, and doesn't take any BS, but I've gotten on her bad side a bit. I've let her down for reasons that need not be explained here.
But that doesn't mean I'll change. Who would I be helping if I did that? No one. Certainly not myself. I am who I am. When you deal with me, you deal with the quirks and the shortcomings, and the pitfalls and upswings. It's a package deal, babies. My dad once told me that I was the quirkiest person he'd ever met, for the following reasons, though they are not all of my quirks, not by a longshot:
(1) I refuse to pay for haircuts. I'm done with professional jobs, for good. I can do fine on my own. See for yourself. That's me yesterday, in Indianapolis, taking a picture of myself.
(2) I refuse to sleep on the bed of another person. Now, staying frequently in hotels complicates this notion, but I disregard that. Those aren't any particular person's bed. The sheets are cleaned, hopefully, every day. So it's like sleeping in a whole new bed every night. Suck it.
(3) I refuse to eat anything out of styrofoam. Gives me the willies.
(4) I refuse to call someone twice in one day if they have not returned my first phone call. I have begged people to call a second time for me, but never done so myself.
(5) I will not use airport bathroom stalls if they have the plastic, revolving cover on them. Too creepy. Too modern. Why, I remember back when we used to ...
There's more. I'm too tired to think of them. Maybe later. Bite me.
It was our boy Sean's birfday tonight, and we took him out, and showed him a good time, and now I believe that he and the rest of the crew are at their apartment, getting "small". Way to go bro's!
So, I'm back at my place, tired as all fuck from this long ass day of work, and the driving, and the developing of film, and the scanning of pictures, and the writing, and the monkey, almost stole the ... oh. Nevermind. I always slip back into those Simpsons quotes, which I guess is alright. I'm cool. I can do that, right? I'm allowed. For real, though. The drinking, and the seeing of Jenn, who always knows how to make what I say out loud not make any sense, and I always walk away feeling dumber for trying to explain my senseless actions to her, while she just stands there, and shakes her head, and looks at me through those glasses, and I feel small myself, much smaller than I actually am.
Yeah. I admit it. I'm an idiot. I have no idea how to handle emotions, or relationships, or whatever. It's all this big, tangled, stupid mess inside my brain that gets twisted and contorted and jumbled around, until I don't know up from down, or left from right, and next I know, I'm at a bar, talking to Jenn, who I truly like. She's genuine, and she calls you on your fronts, and doesn't take any BS, but I've gotten on her bad side a bit. I've let her down for reasons that need not be explained here.
But that doesn't mean I'll change. Who would I be helping if I did that? No one. Certainly not myself. I am who I am. When you deal with me, you deal with the quirks and the shortcomings, and the pitfalls and upswings. It's a package deal, babies. My dad once told me that I was the quirkiest person he'd ever met, for the following reasons, though they are not all of my quirks, not by a longshot:
(1) I refuse to pay for haircuts. I'm done with professional jobs, for good. I can do fine on my own. See for yourself. That's me yesterday, in Indianapolis, taking a picture of myself.
(2) I refuse to sleep on the bed of another person. Now, staying frequently in hotels complicates this notion, but I disregard that. Those aren't any particular person's bed. The sheets are cleaned, hopefully, every day. So it's like sleeping in a whole new bed every night. Suck it.
(3) I refuse to eat anything out of styrofoam. Gives me the willies.
(4) I refuse to call someone twice in one day if they have not returned my first phone call. I have begged people to call a second time for me, but never done so myself.
(5) I will not use airport bathroom stalls if they have the plastic, revolving cover on them. Too creepy. Too modern. Why, I remember back when we used to ...
There's more. I'm too tired to think of them. Maybe later. Bite me.
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