« Here Comes Spring | Main | My Head »
February 20, 2005
This: Result of My Choice of Caffeine Administration
I can't do it. I've got to say NO. I've got to tell myself it just isn't worth it.
Sure I can do it; it's right at my finger tips, but I shouldn't. What's it going to solve?
No. I'm not talking about the bottle of Yukon Jack, the black sheep of Canadian liquors, sitting in my fridge untouched at this point in time.
I'm talking about iTunes (or however it is capitalized). Damn them and their ease of purchase. All I have to do is click and I can listen. No. Not just listen. Own. Not illegally even.
Maybe it is the fact that I am doing something legal that causes me to feel I must restrain myself, but I think it is because if I leave let myself go unrstrained at such a becy of music I'll end up buying everything. I'll start with things I like. When through with that I'll move on buying everything in my path. I know it.
If I don't stop myself I'll end up with a harddrive full of cheesy 80's make out rock ballads.
God forbid!
I've already gotten an earful of those. I'd say a lifetime's worth.
I went ice skating for the first time in my life this weekend. Who knew they'd play all that 80 monster rock ballad crap? What were they thinking? The rink was populated by kids under the age of 14. Almost exclusively kids under 14.
Who runs this place? What's wrong with them? Think of the kids. For god's sake, think of the kids. Why subject the kids to that?
And that guy. That guy that looked like he may have had down syndrome, but had a child - A young teen he wrestled to the ground in the middle of the rink - that guy. Why did no one kick him out of the rink?
The rink provides little PVC walker-type things for the kids. They're like walkers for old people, but shorter, smaller, built to glide on the ice. So the kids can hold on to them and skate around. And this guy. This guy, the down syndrome-ish dad decided to take some kid on the ice - little Asian boy obviously not the product of the man, white as he was - and put him on the walker. Put his feet on the bottom of the walker and skate him around. Skate him around into walls.
"Holy shit! Did you see that?"
"It looked like he just slammed that kid's face into the wall."
"He did. He slammed the kid into the wall."
"What the hell is wrong with that guy?"
"Maybe he's drunk."
Emma and I - I went skating with Emma. She skated circles around me as I fell in front of the kids - had already encountered a drunk.
On the way to the rink we stopped to buy some pants. On the corner of Haven and Eastern there's a guy that sets up shop every day. He sells works pants, shirts -bundles of five for $10 - and jackets for $10. The guy was drunk. Obviously drunk. And when searching through the pants for the right size we found out why. Bottles of vodka were hidden in the piles. Fifths stashed in between the pants. We both smiled.
He grabbed my hand and shook it with his big meaty hands. "I'll give you 5 for 8" he said as he tried to crush it.
"I did 3 tours. Three tours..."
"Three tours? Where?"
"Afghanistan. Lock and Load."
I'm a little skeptical about that, but he may be suffering from PTSD; for some reason he asked me to shoot Emma.
I haven't yet.
Posted by calculatoronfire at February 20, 2005 01:16 PM