A Preview of Things to Come

So I’m working on a totally for fun essay of seemingly no moral compass. Check out the first paragraph (of like, maybe 4 paragraphs total, so its a huge preview). It’s also totally unedited, so don’t…. don’t hurt me.

 

So I’m in the Ale & Witch writing this on the inside of the cover of the book I’m reading (A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again) while texting my friend. Oh, just now I’ve become existentially locked inside due to torrential mid-afternoon Florida rain. Now I am maneuvering inside the poorly ventilated craft bar after making the laudable decision to not expose my cell phone and analog paperback book to threatening heavenly spitting and the distant belch of thunder. Looking around I notice first to my immediate left has recently sat a mid-40s interracial couple (of the fit black, with endless posture of cool, male and sodden gravitationally-deflated female [why this functions as a type, yours truly can only speculate]) and they’ve just set there on the lavishly cushioned (for a bar) L-shape couch that we both share for maybe 10 minutes in that specific way that only mid 40s interracial couples can sit without talking for minutes but not venting any sense of rage or buried animosity. Of course, the second my ass leaves the couch to get a pen to write what seemed like a desperately important situational essay on said powerfully silent biracial couple, the Mid-40s IC starts gabbing in monosyllabic sputters of possibly more seismic interest. Though, perhaps even more ominous, when I return some particularly Spacey Pink Floyd song hums out of the Muzak and the endlessly cool black male taps out every 2nd and 4th note in that way that only black people keep time – in complete rejection of the authoritarian white way of keeping time by hitting every 1st and 3rd note. This breaks his stream of endless cool because unfortunately Pink Floyd does not keep time the way he thinks they do.

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