Sunday, November 21, 2004

Eat that Hailey Joel Osmet

“Hey man, this is tight!” and we clasped hands and recognized each other’s love for pottery. I thought a little about my father, a little about the drinking I had done, and a little about the next pepper that would pop out of my sub. For the record my hands still smell of that sub.
We all have something to sell don’t we? There is part of me that believes this night would have been better devoted to a common positive goal, and yet when the greyhounds started to call at midnight, I would be the last to argue. For the first time I saw the last slice sold at the wicked wedge, and for the first time Thai subs seemed appealing (as well as an ill timed cream soda).
I would like very much like to have stayed downtown in a cramped office, or some such urban orifice, and found one dizzy foot after another to my Toyota in the morning. The cabbie new where to go, and the route was set from the engines rev…hopeless drunks, all we could do was sit.
Tonight I recollected a kinship that died, and that was reborn in the dirgy booth of a smoky bar. A sensation of altruism, or better yet: a confidence in my company. Like a memoir I could relate without being censured or chastised. Often I am able to give my point of view, but rarely am I as self-assured in presenting the case. The topic of conversation revolved around this same topic. A person whose goal it is to fight the greater cause in their own lives will see the results in the lives of those around them.
Eat that Hailey Joel Osmet where are you now?
If the drama was played out according to plan, then to the unmentioned I commend you!


Combine Harvester3:30 AM

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