Tuesday, November 04, 2003
. . . it's just a shot away
Rain came down hard at work today, pounding the roof, it became a foreground static. And everyone looked up from their computers. Everyone mentioned how nice it was at lunch.
Last night Jess and I went to Denny's where this guy behind us talked really loudly about how much he got paid and how cool his new phone was and all the great reasons for being him, and we just wanted to turn around and say to him, "Christ, man, is it that small that you find yourself overcompensating for it at 10:30 at night over a Grand Slam?"
There's this guy on the local rock station who does their late afternoon shift. You probably know who he is, even if you're not from Milwaukee -- every major market has one of these obnoxious guys on at some point. The thing with this guy is that when you listen to him . . . there are times when you want to like him. His fake buddy-vibe is so strong, you wish it to be genuine. He'll do these late afternoon prank calls and it can be pretty funny for a while, especially if he gets someone who plays along with him. But every time -- every time -- he's gotta go and ruin it by ripping the person. See, there are some people he calls who are just complete jerks, and maybe they deserve a prank call. But the people who play along are the regular joes. They don't get upset, they have a good time with it. It works. But then this boor has to go and rip them, as if they were no different from anyone else. He doesn't get it. I don't know, maybe I don't get it.
Last night I dreamed of a bathtub, a paint can, and two people talking; they had the same fingerprints.
No you didn't.
They talked around and around until they faded into the shadows of the static pounding down over them. But the only thing I could make out was a question: "What's that from?"
You are full of lies and vigor.
All that was left in between the sheets of noise raining down upon them was the sadness of a little boy who had had his round cheek slapped by the stranger, and was trying bravely -- so bravely -- to hold the tears and clench his throat as his cheek turned red and his lips tremored.
You are either dangerous, or very, very boring.
Last night Jess and I went to Denny's where this guy behind us talked really loudly about how much he got paid and how cool his new phone was and all the great reasons for being him, and we just wanted to turn around and say to him, "Christ, man, is it that small that you find yourself overcompensating for it at 10:30 at night over a Grand Slam?"
There's this guy on the local rock station who does their late afternoon shift. You probably know who he is, even if you're not from Milwaukee -- every major market has one of these obnoxious guys on at some point. The thing with this guy is that when you listen to him . . . there are times when you want to like him. His fake buddy-vibe is so strong, you wish it to be genuine. He'll do these late afternoon prank calls and it can be pretty funny for a while, especially if he gets someone who plays along with him. But every time -- every time -- he's gotta go and ruin it by ripping the person. See, there are some people he calls who are just complete jerks, and maybe they deserve a prank call. But the people who play along are the regular joes. They don't get upset, they have a good time with it. It works. But then this boor has to go and rip them, as if they were no different from anyone else. He doesn't get it. I don't know, maybe I don't get it.
Last night I dreamed of a bathtub, a paint can, and two people talking; they had the same fingerprints.
No you didn't.
They talked around and around until they faded into the shadows of the static pounding down over them. But the only thing I could make out was a question: "What's that from?"
You are full of lies and vigor.
All that was left in between the sheets of noise raining down upon them was the sadness of a little boy who had had his round cheek slapped by the stranger, and was trying bravely -- so bravely -- to hold the tears and clench his throat as his cheek turned red and his lips tremored.
You are either dangerous, or very, very boring.
