Christmas Eve at a Bro-Bar (or "true mark of an elitist")

I hate holidays. Almost always have. Save for Halloween.

I rolled out of bed around 4 p.m. as per usual on days I don't work. And even normal for most days when I do.
I finished watching Donnie Darko for the 50th time, and then watched Scrosese's Gangs of New York for the 10th.

My family closeness consisted of a telephone conversation with my mother that lasted less than a minute.
Her: I was just calling to see if you were gonna come over tonight, figured you weren't.
Me: What time is it?
Her: 8:30.
Me: Yeah, probably not.
Her: You gonna make it to Topeka tomorrow?
Me: Yeah, probably not.
Her: Okay, well then I won't keep ya. See ya.
Me: Bye.


Then I received a text from my pal Dave, with whom I spoke last night about hanging out with tonight. Him and some old high school cronies.

I meet up with him, my best friend Joe, Drew and his fiance Jessica. None of whom have I seen this year, 2007.

They say we are going to a bar called Mickey's. I have never been there nor have I heard of it. As it turns out it is in the buiding that used to be Old Chicago off of Quivira and perhaps 97th. This place was absolutley friggin' packed.

As soon as I walked in the door all I could think was, "Bro Fest."

And now that the story has brought us to the bar scene, all lines must be shouted due to the loud and outdated music!!

It takes about ten minutes to get our first drinks and I begin to sink into my coma! I dislike public places whre I don't feel comfortable!

I drink me some Killian's Red, which I began to drink primarily because of the Nada Surf song of the same name! Good song and good beer! And we all stand around, in the path of douch-nozzles and jizz-sluts walking around! Already I am becoming an asshole!

We talk amongst ourselves, which is awkward enough being that I haven't seen any of these people in a good year's time! Drew lives in Texas now and flies up around the good Holidays, and Joe... well... I don't know! I just don't see him often! I see Dave more than anyone else but even he couldn't tell me when the last time we crossed paths was!

Keep in mind, all of these gents that I speak of were attached to my hip throughout middle school and high school! Joe since grade school! Nowadays, however, we have to drum up mundane topics to discuss to feel at home in our skin!

As per usual, one of my cronies began to show me pictures on his phone of his new chick he is with! As was the same with his last girlfriend I saw naked pictures of her long before seeing & meeting her in person!! I thought to myself "such classy ladies!" Then I began to laugh in my own head!! These girls are classy in the sense that before I meet them I see photos that highlight both their clit and their asses!! Hence cl-assy!!

The second nugget-of-amazing tonight was a larger black gal that bumped into Dave, she sid "Excuse me, big daddy!" Gotta love that! And that same gal decided to stand right behind me, as I ate free bar peanuts and scream "I'ma cause a scene up in 'dis mutha-fucka!! I'm a cause a scene up in 'dis mutha-fucka!!" She was quite elegant!

A very skillful and dapper gent went up to forementioned gal and asked "What's going on?!" And her reply was of such refine and elegance I was amazed: "Being black!!" Mmmm... the love.

Then there was the guy at the bar, who kept talking to Joe and us while we were ordering who decided to tell us that just a few hours earlier he went to church with his parents!! And he told them "See ya, I'm gonna go sin for a couple of hours!!" I'm sure he told his parents that! And just so it's known to all of you out there, this guy was the self-appointed Gatemaster! Whatever that entails! He kept saying "I'm the Gatemaster!!" Then to my chagrin he said, "I am also a pussy, because I am what I eat." The sad part about that is, that I have used that phrase for several years, and honestly I thought I came up with it, because I never heard the line before I began to use it! However, because of this guy's off-the-charts douche-baggery my pathetic ass will never utter that phrase again!! Ya know, since it was so top-notch to begin with!!

Here we will stop with all of the !!!! It's a pain to keep doing that.

I stop and look around, and I keep my veneer of sanity and arrogance, but I am aching inside. I can't help but think. I am a twenty six-year-old film projectionist that spends his time faking being a "poet"; yet I see myself as of a high calibre than these motherfuckers that surround me.

These people are my age, if not older, and if not, younger. They are probably all in college, or out of college. A place I never went, and never wanted to go.

I'm a film projectionist and fake "poet".

These cock-stains are probably Pre-Law or Pre-Med. Are making $50,000+ a year and drive Lexuses. Or Lexusi, whatever the pluralization would be. These people let off steam my drinking over-priced and watered-down booze and horrible music that ranges from "Nuthin but a G Thang" by Dr. Dre to "Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

I'm just a gorgeous film projectionist and a fake "poet" and to me these dick-cheeses are not real.

I take a piss, and some Bro-Rapist walks in. Sees that all of the urinals are occupied "What the fuck?!!" He tries the door to the only stall and it is locked, "What the fuck?!! Haha, that seems to be the question of the night! What the fuck??!!"

A true master of language.

These "people" aren't real to me, because I don't see humanity in their eyes. As much as I see a starving for humanity. I see a want for truth and substance, but they don't know where to look.

I had two moments of purity tonight. One was simple and stupid, I did truly enjoy hearing "Gett Off" by Prince. For years I have been a huge closet-fan of Prince, and only recently have I let that spill out. "Gett off!! Twenty-three positions in a one-night stand!!" <-- Brilliance.

I looked around at these booze-balloons feigning human form and I think: why do I believe I am so much better? Although that is not what I believe. It's contradictory but not. They are no better than me because they spend their life like this; yet, I feel above them because I don't.

These "people" have been all over the world, they have been to France and have the photos and the stories to show their friends. But I have a true and sincere love French Cinema, for François Truffaut, and Jean-Pierre Melville, and Godard and Genet. They have been to Milan, and Rome, but I love Fellini and the culture that I know of. They live the life I would if I could, but can and don't.

I am a film projectionist posin' as a "poet". And these "people" are out in the world and I am home with music and the page.

They go home to more drinks, horrible breathe, whore's baths, and get balls-deep in broads they just met. I go home to music from an Icelandic band, type on the fuckin' internet and will end up balls-deep in my own hand for the millionth time watching a porn I've seen a hundred.

Now, who is the true master of language?

The second moment of beauty was watching a game of pool. Watching Joe play pool. The intensity in his yes, the simplicity of his mind. When I watch him play pool in bars, which I have seen dozens of times; I always flash back to the days of youth. In his basement doing the same thing, completely un-debauched.

Although this is the first time I have seen my best friend in a year or so, just five minutes of watching him play pool fills me with what I need to go ten more years without him.

My real friends are my humanity. They are my sanity. They don't have to impress me, nor I them. I have known Joe for almost 20 fucking years. How incredible is that?!

So much time has passed, two decades, and if you asked either one of us why were are friends; I bet neither of us would have an answer. We are friends because we have no one else. Yet, also because we want no one else.

And now we end with reality.

A limp-dick came up to us and asked if any of us smoked, which most of us did, do, and were. Yet, he needed a Newport. To which none of us could help him out.

"So you mean, I have to go spend $6 to buy her a pack of Newports?"

He asked us this as if we knew the situation he was in. But let's deduce it.

My hypothesis was that he was mackin' on some lose-cunt, and she was gonna let him smell her panties or perhaps make soup with them; and all he had to do was provide her with a Newport. Classy broad, I assume. And by "classy" please refer to the aforementioned definition.

So this shit-heel, or "ass-hat" as J-Pop would prefer, was trying to bum a Newport so he could take his beauty to bed, and pop across her chest after a good fourteen to fifteen seconds of him making love to himself through her body.

Yet, I have to give this guy some props. Not a lot o' props, but like a third of my crop o' props.

After he said "So you mean, I have to spend $6 to buy her a pack of Newports?!"

Drew replied; "I guess so."

And the guy said, "I don't like you man, you told me the truth."

As we all know, in this country the Truth is an ugly thing.

Maybe it is just me, but if a girl was gonna let me get all up in those guts for a single Newport or even if I had to spend a whole $6 for a pack, I would do my damndest to provide. That would be one hell of a story to tell to your kids.

Happy supposed-Birthday Jesus.