Tales from the 'bucks.
Day Five
There is a funeral parlor across the street from the ‘bucks. White oval building with lettering painted in the windows. It looks like it had to be reconverted from a diner or something and then painted a monochromatic color. Except for a stripe that runs around the top, which is in teal.
Teal.
I hate teal; it is one of the primary colors down here. I couldn’t tell you what lavender or puce or daffodil looks like, but after living in south Florida I can peg teal from a mile away.
For those of you keeping track, I’m up against the window, the favored corner table taken by some guy reading the morning newspaper. It sort of reminds me of the few times I took a school bus, usually on the seat by myself, the loner, head pressed up against the cold safety glass like I was desperately trying to escape through the window pane. Fortunately once I got to Junior High I walked and by the time I got to high school either I or one of my friends had a car.
They are playing an interesting mix of both the Stones and U2 with a Squeeze song thrown in for some flavor. Those of you who aren’t familiar with Squeeze, you are missing out. Find your local file sharing program and download pulling mussels from a shell.
Speaking of cars, (silly rabbit, segues are for kids) my first car was a 1975 Cadillac El Dorado, green. It was huge and hideous with an engine that could have powered a semi. (501 for those keeping track at home) I got about 11 miles to the gallon, highway. And if you stepped on the gas and opened it up fully you could watch the gas tank empty in minutes. It was the vehicular equivalent of The Hulk, and damn I miss it.
It seats about 20, some come on and bring your juke box money.
Good times good times that were my youth, driving a 3 ton vehicle at amazingly unsafe speeds on snow covered roads dodging deer and listening to mix cassettes on the cassette player I installed that hung to the dash like a badly wired tumor.
My wife and cousin both posted about their fathers yesterday. Father’s day to me is just another day, like Christmas except with more stuff open. Edie’s father is an enigma to me, I’ve met the guy a handful of times, and he’s shown nothing but a distant civility, pity he’s a douche-bag to his daughter, I’d almost like the guy if he weren’t, the guy overcame a hard core addiction and turned his life around, I respect that. I just don’t respect him. As for my Uncle, I don’t even remember the guy, I do know I spent my only Christmas at their house when I was a kid and he had a huge model railway. My childhood memories of my cousin are Legos, horses, and model trains.
Someone just parked outside the window in a Saturn, and of course it’s teal. Who the hell buys a car in teal?
I was talking to someone on my friends list a month ago, someone who I don’t get to talk to often enough, although that could apply to fifty people, and they were telling me about someone in their life who they are no longer speaking to, and she has no idea why, they are totally ignoring her.
I have a ton of people in my past like that, and that’s so damn hard for me to realize that sometimes you don’t get to know, closure isn’t ever going to happen with some situations and the hardest thing is dealing with that. I live in the now, because the past is closed off, and frankly I don’t see much of a future.
This leads us back to fathers’ day and my little stupid fatalism I live under, four more years baby, four more years. My 41st birthday party is going to be a fucking blast, because I will be out from under this curse, and you are all invited.
Burn on, burn on.
I feel like I’ve spent my entire life coming up with excuses of why I fail, and they have become excuses TO fail, I am set in the role of the funny failure, and that’s all I’ll ever be. Anybody want to take bets on what my excuse will be April 12th 2009?
Ok, this is now getting depressing.
In other news, next Sunday I will be doing photography at the Beat Down, about 10 urban performers, the headliner is Kanye West, and I’m going to be both totally in and totally out of my element. It should be damn exciting.
Ok, you know that old guy I mentioned in the first or second ‘tales from the Bucks post, well he just came in and I realized I was in HIS table.
Fortunately the corner is open now, so now I have my favorite table and he has his. I dislike that table anyhow, it’s depressing, to much teal to look at out the window.
Did I mention I hate teal?
There is a funeral parlor across the street from the ‘bucks. White oval building with lettering painted in the windows. It looks like it had to be reconverted from a diner or something and then painted a monochromatic color. Except for a stripe that runs around the top, which is in teal.
Teal.
I hate teal; it is one of the primary colors down here. I couldn’t tell you what lavender or puce or daffodil looks like, but after living in south Florida I can peg teal from a mile away.
For those of you keeping track, I’m up against the window, the favored corner table taken by some guy reading the morning newspaper. It sort of reminds me of the few times I took a school bus, usually on the seat by myself, the loner, head pressed up against the cold safety glass like I was desperately trying to escape through the window pane. Fortunately once I got to Junior High I walked and by the time I got to high school either I or one of my friends had a car.
They are playing an interesting mix of both the Stones and U2 with a Squeeze song thrown in for some flavor. Those of you who aren’t familiar with Squeeze, you are missing out. Find your local file sharing program and download pulling mussels from a shell.
Speaking of cars, (silly rabbit, segues are for kids) my first car was a 1975 Cadillac El Dorado, green. It was huge and hideous with an engine that could have powered a semi. (501 for those keeping track at home) I got about 11 miles to the gallon, highway. And if you stepped on the gas and opened it up fully you could watch the gas tank empty in minutes. It was the vehicular equivalent of The Hulk, and damn I miss it.
It seats about 20, some come on and bring your juke box money.
Good times good times that were my youth, driving a 3 ton vehicle at amazingly unsafe speeds on snow covered roads dodging deer and listening to mix cassettes on the cassette player I installed that hung to the dash like a badly wired tumor.
My wife and cousin both posted about their fathers yesterday. Father’s day to me is just another day, like Christmas except with more stuff open. Edie’s father is an enigma to me, I’ve met the guy a handful of times, and he’s shown nothing but a distant civility, pity he’s a douche-bag to his daughter, I’d almost like the guy if he weren’t, the guy overcame a hard core addiction and turned his life around, I respect that. I just don’t respect him. As for my Uncle, I don’t even remember the guy, I do know I spent my only Christmas at their house when I was a kid and he had a huge model railway. My childhood memories of my cousin are Legos, horses, and model trains.
Someone just parked outside the window in a Saturn, and of course it’s teal. Who the hell buys a car in teal?
I was talking to someone on my friends list a month ago, someone who I don’t get to talk to often enough, although that could apply to fifty people, and they were telling me about someone in their life who they are no longer speaking to, and she has no idea why, they are totally ignoring her.
I have a ton of people in my past like that, and that’s so damn hard for me to realize that sometimes you don’t get to know, closure isn’t ever going to happen with some situations and the hardest thing is dealing with that. I live in the now, because the past is closed off, and frankly I don’t see much of a future.
This leads us back to fathers’ day and my little stupid fatalism I live under, four more years baby, four more years. My 41st birthday party is going to be a fucking blast, because I will be out from under this curse, and you are all invited.
Burn on, burn on.
I feel like I’ve spent my entire life coming up with excuses of why I fail, and they have become excuses TO fail, I am set in the role of the funny failure, and that’s all I’ll ever be. Anybody want to take bets on what my excuse will be April 12th 2009?
Ok, this is now getting depressing.
In other news, next Sunday I will be doing photography at the Beat Down, about 10 urban performers, the headliner is Kanye West, and I’m going to be both totally in and totally out of my element. It should be damn exciting.
Ok, you know that old guy I mentioned in the first or second ‘tales from the Bucks post, well he just came in and I realized I was in HIS table.
Fortunately the corner is open now, so now I have my favorite table and he has his. I dislike that table anyhow, it’s depressing, to much teal to look at out the window.
Did I mention I hate teal?