We started our evening in the cyber-cafe, sitting in the easy chairs by the computers, reading books that made people raise their eyebrows at us. After hours of this and many, many cups of coffee we were hungry and looking for a way to wind down.
So we went to a diner we'd been to a few times, an old place that had once been a hangout for farmers and rednecks to drink and eat sloppy bar-ba-que sandwiches. In recent years it had been overtaken by the local undesirables. The waitstaff and bartenders were walking billboards for the tattoo artist on the corner.
We sat in the back by the jukebox. I was feeling out of step some how and focused on the sea of dirty chuck taylors under the tables. A guy in black glasses and ill fitting jeans was smiling at me with one brow cocked. After a few beers and a veggie burger I was feeling better about the situation and started to take the place in. Everyone smoked expensive cigarettes but was drinking PBR as if it were a badge of defiance. Most were dressed in unseasonal attire for the sake of hippness. One girl had completed a rather interesting mini-skirt outfit with a pair of white go go boots.
In the corner booth, glaring at all us damn fool kids, were two old bikers with scary facial hair and leather jackets that were cracked and permentally scarred with road dust.
We left under a thin cloud of drunken courage and strolled to a friends place near-by. We passed around a glass bong our friend bought in Russia years ago and listened to Nick Drake.
Once the beer in our blood had been replaced with watered down coffee, we went back to our own humble dwelling to go to sleep...
...so we could wake up and do the whole thing again...
So we went to a diner we'd been to a few times, an old place that had once been a hangout for farmers and rednecks to drink and eat sloppy bar-ba-que sandwiches. In recent years it had been overtaken by the local undesirables. The waitstaff and bartenders were walking billboards for the tattoo artist on the corner.
We sat in the back by the jukebox. I was feeling out of step some how and focused on the sea of dirty chuck taylors under the tables. A guy in black glasses and ill fitting jeans was smiling at me with one brow cocked. After a few beers and a veggie burger I was feeling better about the situation and started to take the place in. Everyone smoked expensive cigarettes but was drinking PBR as if it were a badge of defiance. Most were dressed in unseasonal attire for the sake of hippness. One girl had completed a rather interesting mini-skirt outfit with a pair of white go go boots.
In the corner booth, glaring at all us damn fool kids, were two old bikers with scary facial hair and leather jackets that were cracked and permentally scarred with road dust.
We left under a thin cloud of drunken courage and strolled to a friends place near-by. We passed around a glass bong our friend bought in Russia years ago and listened to Nick Drake.
Once the beer in our blood had been replaced with watered down coffee, we went back to our own humble dwelling to go to sleep...
...so we could wake up and do the whole thing again...
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
OK, yeah, that's all
okay..serious story here....i was in brownies...my poor mom was workin three jobs to raise me because my dad bailed....she forgot to make treats on the assigned day I was supposed to bring treats...she forgot so brownie cohorts were givin me shit about not bringing treats (this is at recess at school well before said brownie meeting)...so I didn't go. i ran away to my friend,Natalies house therefore getting in big trouble with my mom....but yeah. there's my scout story. what'd i learn? my brownie friends were jerks, Natalie was hardcore cool and I wasn't cut out for brownies anyway...I mean..who really wants to end up wearing that green uniform. i'd like to see voltaire in it.....but shit...i don't need no green uniform.
and your journal entry. whew girl. you're a writer my lady
[Edited on Feb 24, 2003]