I cold step to you with a fresh pack of gum
I have survived the week. “Trying harder,” sadly, has segued into lying in bed all day, as I’ve been hella-sick and just totally unable to deal with vertical positions. That’s OK, though, because I seem to have recuperated just in time for Friday night, which may find me in any number of local venues perpetuating “bad vibes” like the sporus fungi facilitated by a tepid rain. This is actually what I do. Sitting in a bar last week, dealing with the unambiguous pointing of strangers asking, “Is that him?” I’m used to this type of scrutiny, actually. I seem to resemble any number of anti-heroes, drawing comparisons to all types of miscreants worldwide, but more likely do I suspect that these are myspace voyeurs. And I’m always on edge, dealing with this micro-cosmic celebrity in the way that has me thinking of purchasing a baseball cap—which is the first time I’ve ever had to contemplate such a thing.

But that’s pretty rare, and it could have just been the paranoia which occurs when you mix certain cold medicines and other elixirs together. A more typical night out might involve hanging around in Lark Tavern and at some point wondering out loud what happened to that reptilian guy you used to see hanging around Albany, who later ended up on the Discovery Channel. Did he become Born Again? Take out all of his facial implants and is living a life of stoical subservience in suburbia somewhere, where he is calculating the precise coordinates of where things fell off the track for him—was it the insane primordial forehead implants that were the decisive factor or the full on body tattoo? Or more logically, did he finally make his way out to the wilderness to live among the snakes and lizards and things? Or is he reading this right now on some slow night five weeks in the future, and is looking up the requisite pictures which will be having him waiting outside of said venue, scaring the piss out of me on some other slow night five weeks from now? (further necessitating the need of a baseball cap). Other points of reference for tonight may include high-scoring on Mrs. Pac-Man and trying to impress random strangers with that same fact, who will blithely look back at me, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Although, with any luck, those same statistics might impress someone. Something. Yeah, that sounds about right. Maybe I'll see you there.