Yesterday was a day of fine indulgence. Hung out with a new group of people and had a good time surprisingly. They were these gourmet food nerds/happy drunk people. Everything we ate was all embellished with mint leaves, cilantro, and bleu cheese.
There are certain people that have more to them than they realize. I feel like certain people don't realize the depth in themselves that I see or feel. This brings me to a feeling I haven't had in a long time, "once in a great while it feels good to meet a true American." The host of the BBQ was one.There aren't many left. There aren't many people with some sort of accomplished working class quality left out there. I met a person that was so American, he made me wanna watch baseball. No force on this earth has ever made me wanna watch sports, ever. I haven't witnessed such enthusiasm for things I consider futile or decadent in a long time. People marveling at spending their money on making food taste better, that's American right there. Being in the military all that time rendered me unable to relate or respect what the common man pacifies himself with. I felt like I was in the 50's or something. Just hanging out with good hearted Americans. I think when I meet people I just imagine them personified in a book or something.
When you've hung out with punks, greasers, and soldiers for the past 17 years it does something to you. Kinda of makes you able to live off of pabst and hot dogs. These groups of people are definitely not known for having much appreciation for any sort of extravagance. I on the other hand, have certain traits in me that give me a taste for the finer things in life. I have an adventurous and artistic personality, which pretty much makes all the punks, greasers, and soldiers think I'm a homo.
I can't say I've ever fit in with any group of adults. All of you including myself seem to be twisted or fucked up in some way. Which is fine until other people think your weird habits are absurd. So I caroused with like 20 people I'd never met yesterday, none of them were punks, greasers, or soldiers...
After this AnnieCruz and I wandered down to Pop's and said hi to Tuffy. He's a real American. He's a 1950s Dodge, or whatever 1950's car he'd like to be.
There are certain people that have more to them than they realize. I feel like certain people don't realize the depth in themselves that I see or feel. This brings me to a feeling I haven't had in a long time, "once in a great while it feels good to meet a true American." The host of the BBQ was one.There aren't many left. There aren't many people with some sort of accomplished working class quality left out there. I met a person that was so American, he made me wanna watch baseball. No force on this earth has ever made me wanna watch sports, ever. I haven't witnessed such enthusiasm for things I consider futile or decadent in a long time. People marveling at spending their money on making food taste better, that's American right there. Being in the military all that time rendered me unable to relate or respect what the common man pacifies himself with. I felt like I was in the 50's or something. Just hanging out with good hearted Americans. I think when I meet people I just imagine them personified in a book or something.
When you've hung out with punks, greasers, and soldiers for the past 17 years it does something to you. Kinda of makes you able to live off of pabst and hot dogs. These groups of people are definitely not known for having much appreciation for any sort of extravagance. I on the other hand, have certain traits in me that give me a taste for the finer things in life. I have an adventurous and artistic personality, which pretty much makes all the punks, greasers, and soldiers think I'm a homo.
I can't say I've ever fit in with any group of adults. All of you including myself seem to be twisted or fucked up in some way. Which is fine until other people think your weird habits are absurd. So I caroused with like 20 people I'd never met yesterday, none of them were punks, greasers, or soldiers...
After this AnnieCruz and I wandered down to Pop's and said hi to Tuffy. He's a real American. He's a 1950s Dodge, or whatever 1950's car he'd like to be.