Sunday, October 25, 2015

Can I Read a Book At a Restaurant?

Brain: Wait just a minute there! Where do you think you're going with that book in your hand?

Me: Oh I'm going to read it and have dinner. At a restaurant.

Brain: Well, put it in a bag at least. You can't just walk into a restaurant with a book. Then they'll know.

Me: They'll know what?

Brain: Everything! All of your secrets! They'll know that, um... We'll get back to that. I think this just about getting attention.

Me: Attention?

Brain: Yeah! "Hey everyone! Look at me sitting at a table in the corner, quietly reading a book!"

Me: That doesn't make any sense!

Brain: You'll just look like white balding pseudo intellectual taking himself too seriously while people try to have fun and unwind.

White Guilt: Hey, black people can be bald pseudo-intellectuals, too!

Me: Not now white guilt. Not now.

Brain: What if the waitress asks you why you couldn't eat at home?

Me: That's not a question people working for tips ask!

Brain: Not to your face, but in the kitchen, they'll be wondering. Also guess what?

Me: What?

Brain: You assumed your server would be a woman. Pig.

Me: ...

Brain: How about this? If you can come up with a mission statement, I'll leave you alone.

Me: A mission statement?

Brain: Yeah! Something that justifies and declares your purpose.

Me: "I shall strive to eat food at the restaurant across the street from my apartment while reading a book for the purpose of intellectual and physical nourishment, utilizing all available resources, including food and this book."

Brain: That's weak.

Me: No it isn't!

Brain: Yes it is. It is too wordy, just like everything else you do, and it won't reach Millennials because it isn't social media friendly.

Me: I'M a millennial, and I am the entire audience for the campaign, and I accept it!

Brain: You're not a millennial, stop trying to deny your age!

Me: That's not even an anxiety I have! We're not having this conversation right now, it's getting late!

Brain: You're right, you should clean those dishes before they start to smell.

Me: Ok. ... Done. DAMMIT! You just distracted me. Now it's 9:30

Brain: Aw damn. You need to be eating before 10, otherwise it's weird.

Me: Oh yeah, you're right! I gotta hurry...  WAIT A MINUTE! You just made that up. That's it, we're going, and-

Brain: Thai food.

Me: What are you- NO!

Brain: Thai fooooooooood...

Me: Black bean burger and sweet potato fries!

Brain: Thaiiiiiii foooooooOoOoOoOoOoOoOooood...

Me: Nope! I'm walking now!

Brain: Of course you would walk on this side of the road. So predictable.

Me: Made it! Hah! I'm here at the restaurant! Reading a book! It's not a big deal! This discussion is over.


Brain: You're holding the book at an angle that makes it look like you want everyone to know what you're reading.

Brain: Also, you forgot your keys again.

Me: Dammit!

Crystalline Collapsible

I float on a river that runs crystalline collapsable
It reaches the back of my tongue
And is sweetened by your shadow
Cast upstream like fishing line
Hook in my subconscious mind

True beauty is aimed to the void
We're lucky to observe what escapes
The other way lies
Beachside vanity, gazing at footprints
Then taking credit for the ocean
As it washes them away

This is the love story of the wind and the sand
Who outsource the self-knowledge they can't understand
Or else too damp to realize
Is god wafting between people
Or a private pearl of vast thoughts and tiny actions
From all that goes wrong?

We're all cabbage, you must know
We yank lead from distant soil
We wind up in our gazpacho
Race to pay the tab and bolt
While the other's on the can

Or we're melted crayons
Coloring one another
Camouflage from ourselves
So we fall into deep holes
The wind trims pointless misery
Apart from what you hold inside
Soon to rise like mushroom rings
Wide beyond your view
Just as dawn dabs the tears
The collector harvests, makes a stew
That seems to soothe
Do they really know it's you?
Does it matter if they do?

We matched tones like lightning striking itself
Oh, still the harmony purrs the fungal arc ever wider
Until, all-containing
It shapes the wake that shakes my boat
As I sail around myself
Diving for oysters
Then arranging them
In colliding circles

Could you find me
Standing in the center of them all
Laughing as I'm crashing
Laughing as I'm crashing