Bad Food

My Death Cab For Cute cover band played at a grown up house last night. It was weird. The house was in a neighborhood of respectable homes with Christmas lights and cars and families rather than being in an alley where homeless people go to poop. That alley is by my apartment. We call it Poop Alley because there is so many streaks of poop on the wall.

I got there really early because I am an idiot. Nobody was there except the poor host. She was dressed like and adult and they had wine glasses there. That,s how I knew it was a grown up house. We watched Tom Hanks shake his head on television for a while. It was quiet and strange so we left and walked to a store which was extremely bleak and suicidal. They didn,t have any juice.

When we got back, the punkers had begun to arrive. I sat on the couch with some friends and had a nice conversation. There was a guy sitting on a couch across the room who kept jumping into our little talk. He was so excited and about something that seemed not to exist. He was from Ashland, Kentucky. He started by telling us about the records that he kept putting on. Then he would hear somebody say something and start asking questions about it that nobody cared about the answers to. He asked if Brooklyn was near Manhattan just because he liked the idea of words coming out of his mouth. I mentioned to somebody that I had eaten a burrito for lunch and that the restaurant that I went to prepares their burritos on a grill and they serve them flat. The young man from Ashland, Kentucky told me that I had eaten a quesadillia. When I protested he then told me that I had eaten a taco.

Krzysztof Komeda - Astigmatic
Of course, the topic eventually moved to eating horses and he said that if he had it his way, he would eat fish all the time. He kept suggesting things. I couldn,t figure him out. I don,t know if he was weirded out by being around so many people or if he is just like that around anybody. The only glimpse I got into the possible reasoning for his madness was that he mentioned putting half of a can of Mountain Dew in the fridge because he didn,t think that it would be a good idea for him to finish it all. Maybe he has a very low tolerance for sugar or caffeine or carbonation or aluminum and those five ounces really got him going. I can,t be sure. The only thing I am sure of is that I will miss him and I wish I knew his name and phone number and address because he was a rare breed.

Everything broke when we played and we sounded bad and ruined every song. There was a group of three young girls sitting in a hallway texting as we played. They had the right idea.