gráb bág ( thé béáuty óf á 4.5 hr láyóvér ánd fréé álcóhól) ñññññññ

i sit here in madrid airport. next to me you’ll find a dewar’s white label and water, jaume serra brut white wine, a mahou beer, and a tomato juice. i’m doing my best to bide my time. it is difficult. staring at the digital board as my destination SLOWLY crawls up the screen, and then…


…and then i wonder, TheDad always wore cowboy boots, ALWAYS! they called him “hippie”, i suppose because of the pseudo-mullet he had going on, mary jane as a possible mistress, but not much more than that. he always wore cowboy boots; hippies don’t wear cowboy boots. i wonder where his work boots were. i’ve seen his welding shirts, his pipefitter caps, his welding hoods, but never his work boots. maybe it was a bygone era where EHS wasn’t yet acronymized, and you could get away with that, but i can’t imagine this man working. i wonder how many guys on my sites lead lives similar to him, and i wonder how many i could take in a fight. by the time i found out about him, about his ways, he was too broken to make bleed. he’d already done that to himself. he took all the fun out of it, but then again, he was good at that. fukkin’ hippie.

i have a hard time getting my head around european time, particularly when inebriated. it is now 14:55:13 per the digital board, and i keep thinking it is 4:55 and my flight (5:00pm) is ready to board. i keep panicking, and then not, as i remind myself “you have to subtract 12, dickwad”, now it is only 2:55:57 and all is well. damn those europeans for adopting 24-hour time and metric measurements while we americans “held the course” with AM/PM and imperial. IMPERIAL!!! WTF is that? imperial implies empire which we NEVER had. it should be colonial or mutiny or rebellion measurement or something. but imperial?

i must interrupt myself… here in the business class lounge, i find a predicament. one i find myself in on too many occasion. as i type this, i hear the word “CABRON, CABRON!!!” repeated several time. i’m not fluent in spanish by any means, but i’ve seen enough movies and TV shows to know that isn’t an appropriate terms to be exclaiming in public. i look over and it is a spaniard shouting into a phone to someone. then “ESCUCHAME, ESCUCHAME!!!” which, again, from what little i know and the tone it was used in, he was saying “excuse me, listen bitch …”. here is the predicament; i think the guy is being an ass but i ignore him. i blue-blood looking gentleman walked up to him politely and asked him not to say such impolite words in such a public environment. the spaniard replied with every english expletive he could think of, of course, in nonsense because he doesn’t know the syntax of american curse words. while the gentleman walked away he kept cursing at him. see, i wouldn’t walk up to him. i’m bigger than the gentleman, and probably more imposing if i furrowed my brow, but i wouldn’t do it. i think the guy is making more a fool of himself than i would chastising him, but i WANT to tell him to shut the FUKK up. get out of here. i think i may pop some day. all the repressed anger at idiots like the spaniard might go and bubble-yum up the entire operation. i’ll be sorry, but there will be nothing i can do. i’m flawed, i don’t think counseling could fix it because i’m too stubborn, drugs can’t since they’re only temporary and usually damage the liver (that pussy).

so now, i’ll perfunctorily jump to american business wear. i tend to make fun of arab in their long white robes and curtains on their head (i don’t know the name), but in a moment of clarity, i looked at american businessmen. they wear a jacket while traveling whether they are hot or not. they wear ties which aren’t much more than devices of corporal punishment worn conveniently around ones neck. we dress as uncomfortably and impractically as everyone else. and i thought we were normal. goes to show ya.

bonus points to anyone who knows the quote from the book i’m reading (when someone dies): “so it goes”.

goodnight my sweet

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