Food Court

         

Food Court



Between the pornography and the depression, adjacent to the overpriced watered down, Miller Highlife "House Microbrew", above the medication(s), but below the friend's friend's relationship problems, no, not there- that's a travel sized tube of toothpaste from 1999, I'm holding onto that, left, no, no, too far come back to me darling, yeah, you got it, right next to the SAT study materials, there lies the food court.

I don't care about the food court. People come, eat bad food, play dungeons and dragons, leave, exorcise the bad food with surprising efficiency. There is an uncomfortably long conversation going on at the table next to me involving a holiday in East Asia, an experience with Rohypnol and a savvy Asian business man's presumed experience inside the speaker. "I threw up so much the next morning. Red."

There goes one. With her mom. Pretty. Big ass. Pretty big ass. How could I phrase that into sentence? "Hello, you're pretty and so is your pretty, big ass." Sounds discotech-worthy to me. But why is she holding her Ipod with the buds in her ears while talking with her mom? Why not put it her pocket and not talk to her mom? Or why not talk to her mom and not have the pod present? Everyone's always multitasking and doing nothing. "Your daughter is pretty and has a pretty, big ass. You too are pretty, pretty fucking decrepit."

I can't finish this. I love capitalism. The only reason I work is to throw away food.Half a meatball. A few noodles. A pool of the liquid its all kept in the heating tray. I just throw it away and it is one of the most unaduteratedly beautiful and untainted things in my life. I own it and I ravage it and I throw it away and I have never had to experience Rohypnol. These types of moments are limited.

I left at 7:34 and it was 745 when i sat down with my food. It is now 7 55. I could just sleep in the food court. I have no idea how long it takes me to get from the food court and back to the store. It doesnt really matter all that much to me I suppose. Things like these dont really enter into my life into my realm time. Crossing town crossing the store driving to work hours at the bar hours with my mom hours spent with lovers it doesnt matter its fleeting and its passes passes passes the painfully self aware passage of dates, calanders, deadlines, marked by events that run together. That one party at the shack? The one where that dude showed up on rollerblades double fisting peach schnaps and bourbun? No, well, maybe, doesnt that dude tdo that all the time? Yeah, but your talking about that time the old man let that big ass dog out after us? I wasnt at that one though. Maybe you were. But, you werent. Right, I was studying for finals. I thought you were at work. I probably was, but I didnt have that many hours at the time. Rome wasnt built in a day but I bet it sure as hell burned quickly.

I know the matiance cat, he is a chill dude, mexican, wife and kids, somewhere, not in state. International family man. Goes out of his way to say hi. Groovy

I get out of the shower, I empty the tray into the can, I check my account balance, I pay the tab, I stub out the cigarette, I clean up, I push radio buttons. Crescendos begin, tidal waves soar, dolphins mate, I drive away from an open mcdonalds for the second night in a row.