Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Sorry, CSUF. Sorry Poet.


I never learned to read a calendar. The clock and punctuality are very important to me. If I am late, I am probably dead. When people are late, I think they are dead. But sometimes I get days mixed up.
I think that it is the reason why I ended up going to pseudo chic bars all over North Orange County last night rather than going to a poetry reading at the Gypsy Den in Santa Ana as planned. When we found out that I had gotten the night wrong. I wanted to go get tattoos, but none of my friends wanted to get tattoos. Neither of them have any. I wish I had friends that would just get tattoos on a whim with me when poetry readings have been cancelled or whatever.
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Hipster bars there are weird to me. At one, Proof, they had naked lady pictures all over the wall, and Bettie Page videos playing on projectors. They played music that no one in the room seemed to like. The girls looked like hipsters in the bay, but they were dressed like the people on MTV. I don't have cable, so I don't really know what people dress like on MTV, but I think everyone has a feeling or an idea or something. They started setting up something that looked like a stripper pole and a D.J. booth. The OC Weekly said it was going to be a cool D.J. night, but we left when we saw the stripper pole. Once you've dated a couple strippers, strippers tend to gross you out, I think...................
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We went to Fullerton. I lived there for awhile when I was young and rich. All the Cafés I went to are bars now. The bartender used to be a manger of one of the cafés. Everything was very artificial and eerie in Fullerton. The women were very flirtatious, and that was nice. They were nice.
But I was drinking, and I said something to a friend that was mean. Then he said something mean. And then we were just mean together
I said, I don't think any women in here know how to read. I don't think they like poets.
He said, They all go to Cal State Fullerton. Don't say you're a poet, just tell them about UC Berkeley, and you're in. They'll think you'll be rich.
Now I am depressed about the degree of superiority I felt. I am sorry, Fullerton. I don't like you anymore, but that's no reason to insult your women and your college.
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On a brighter note check this out!
I need to get three hundred dollars so that I can buy a real Tony Creed ring. I will sell a poem to someone for three hundred dollars and buy it. It's going to be great.

2 comments:

Sarah said...

I like how you slipped in the stripper-dating info in the middle of your rant of sadness.

Jack Morgan said...

Trainwrecks often involve more than one train.