Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Smoking on a porch

Honestly, my watch broke on Sunday. I was plastered, and all kinds of stuff was going on. The little pin that holds the band in place disappeared. So I didn't have any 7:21 beeping for a couple days. Now the watch is attached to my belt with what remains of the band. I don't really like that, but I don't dislike it enough to buy a new watch. I'm just not that guy. So - 7:21, I'm pretty sure I'm hanging out on Rachel's porch. Shawn called me while I was at work - second to final day at pizza job - and asked what was up. I left work early since people don't eat pizza at 3pm anyway. There was a teacher party/meeting at my house. A brief explanation follows:

My parents are teachers, my sister is a teacher, my aunts and uncle teach, my cousins are teachers. It's a real serious teacher family that I'm in. This house sometimes has a gathering of teachers who eat chips and drink a little beer. It's always been that way, and many times the teachers were teachers who taught me. This time there were a lot of new faces. I found out that some of the new faces were younger than my face. Is that funny? I'm going to file that under the ambiguous heading of 'notable.' I noted it. I ate some cheese cubes and broccoli, and was a nice guy.

Shawn picked me up pretty fast, and we went up to the Half Moon Saloon: too early, but fuck it. That's the bar that I've spent too much money at several times very recently. True again, I had five pints and we left without ordering any of the food that was talked about. I wanted some pot. At 7:21, I'm pretty sure I was sitting on Rachel's porch smoking pot.

My mind has been pretty scattered. I wouldn't mind talking about it, but this blog really isn't the time or place. Here's an issue. I started out writing just about what was happening at 7:21. Then I wanted to pour a lot more words out of my fingers, so I did that. I want to be able to describe my thoughts, and explain myself. It's therapeutic for me, and I think there's a value for me to be able to look back at the very specific details of my own life. All that is facts. Sometimes I might we writing about trees without explaining that I'm in the woods. Just remember that everyone is always in the fucking woods, and sometimes trees don't look that interesting when your face is up in the bark. That said, sometimes I'll give you a description of bark.

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