It's my party, I can blog if I want to
Hey, I just thought of a title someone can use if they want to. If someone wants to write another book about how crooked the Bush administration is and how they've lied it, they could call it "It's my party, I can lie if I want to." I mean it's kind of stupid, but you are welcome to use it.
So it's my birthday. I'm 30. Wheeeee! Don't worry, I am not going to go all grim and morose and all, I've already been through all that. I am cheerful because my Rosie gave me a wonderful birthday morning with warm cereal (my choice) and totally HOTTT presents! I will have to describe my gift later - don't worry, it's not perverted, unless you have a nasty fetish for Love, Devotion, Thoughtfulness and Creativity.
Anyhoo, I am also cheerful right now because I see this day as a perfect excuse to catch up on some important blogging. My workdays have been rather dreadful lately, in part because of situations I have related in recent posts, and in part because, well, because my job has always sucked big fat monkey dong. My job-dread makes me less inclined to do my work... and so I spend much of the workday sitting at my desk staring at the screen thinking, "I should so some work." And then I think about blogging, but I think about how that can take up a lot of time, and then I think "I should get some work out of the way first, then blog." And then I think, "I should check out yesterday's NBA scores first, that'll just take a few minutes." Then I check out Craig's List to see if there are any posts for decent writing gigs (there never are). Then I look to see if there are any interesting acting gigs (there never are). Then I check out the "Barter" section to see if there is something I really want to trade for (there never is, and I have nothing to trade). Then I check out the "Missed Connections" section just to see if I have any stalkers (I don't) and to see who's stalking who (everyone in williamsburg is stalking each other). Then I check out the "Casual Encounters" section just to see what all the perverts are doing. I'm not passing judgement, mind you - Go Perverts! I find it rather fascinating, but also depressing, and I'm surprised they still persist, because it seems to be 99.99% all guys desperate for girls to have sex with them. And gay guys offering blowjobs to the straight guys for when they finally give up on girls. There are girls offering to have sex with men on Craig's List... and it's called "Erotic Services"! Not very interesting to look at, and the combination of hardcore capitalism and potential STD's is pretty gross to read about. While the Casual Encounters section can be depressing, at least it's desperate people's emotional cries for attention, rather than carnival hucksters' cries for money. (As a birthday present to myself I am not going to bother correcting things that don't make sense)
After I've thoroughly grossed myself out, and confirmed my suspicion that verybody else in the world is having sex with everybody else (which I find very comforting), I move on to a few other random sections, like Musical Instruments, Vacation Rentals, Housing Swaps, Automobiles, Accounting/Finance Jobs and other things that I have no actual interest in pursuing. By then it's probably about time to see if there's any breaking sports news on espn.com, any decent articles on salon, any interesting freakshow stories on thesmokinggun, links on memepool, shitty poems on Slate, news on nytimes, weather on weather....
and then it's 5:30 and time to go home.
But today, folkers, I am blogging before lunch even! Look at me go!
So I should probably talk about something else. I know I had a few things. Oh yeah,
Hey Proprietors of the Pencil Factory bar:
STOP! You're ruining my favorite bar!!!
It was in one of my very first posts I think, when I sang the praises of my local tavern, the Pencil Factory. I probably talked about things like warm old wood; a cozy, homey feel; Johnny Cash on the stereo; sitting at a comfortable table on a lazy Sunday afternoon, scribbling in my notebook, sipping a beer, with the sun pouring in through the nice big windows; a slightly older, calmer crowd; folks with dogs and babies; nice bartenders.
Such a great place. And as such, has become popular. It's not too crowded though... The problem is that, perhaps in response to its increasing popularity, or for whatever reason, the owners have let the place get a lot more lounge-y.
I spoke of sunlight on summer days... But in the days of old, even if I stopped by the PF at night I could cosily sit and do some writing and/or reading, and saw others doing the same. By which I mean the light was kept at a decent level. Recently, however, I go in there and I can't see a goddamn thing. The bartenders are turning the lights down way lower than they used to. Okay, if it's Saturday night at 11PM and it's packed and everyone's partying, give them that fucking half-blind dark lounge environment everyone but me seems to like. But on a Monday evening? There are four people in the bar, and you want to make sure they can't see each other, or a newspaper or a notebook?
I don't know if the proprietors have in fact had a hand in this, or whether they leave it up to the bartenders. There are a few new bartenders, and at least a couple of them really suck. The situation reached its nadir one evening last week, when I would've been content to sit in my favorite haunt for a couple pints-worth of writing (do you know of any magazines that pay by the pint?). I walked in and could not see. I made it to the bar my memory, where I met the vacant stare of this dimwit chick who had as much charisma as... well, she had none. I ordered my beer. I sat down at the bar. I took out my paper. I couldn't see a fucking thing. I loved to a table near the window where I could at least pick up a little light from a distant lamppost. Then I noticed something which, perhaps, I had blocked out up to that point for sheer disbelief: Techno was playing. Or house, or something, I don't know all the fucking categories of electronic bullshit music, suffice it to say that I heard several tracks I recognized from car commercials. Halfway through my drink I realized that I really, really did not want to be there.
Proprietors of the Pencil Factory: Yours is not a bar for techno. If you agree, tell your bartenders that they are not at "Splendid" and they should turn the lights up to an adult level and play some grown-up music. Or if the Pencil Factory is a bar for techno, it is no bar for me.
Okay, I will do some work now. But later I will talk about what I have come to realize is not just a pleasant dive, but in fact, the best bar in the world: The Turkey's Nest.
~Monty
11:49:20 AM 
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