millennial content vol. ii: adventures into notorious b.i.g.’s glass houses

I decide to continue the feels fest. No one demands it, though that wouldn’t have had an effect. More onions to peel back; still don’t cry.

Spontaneous adventures. Wake up and leave town. To another town, 45 minutes away. I don’t tell anyone. Eat lunch at the same spot I always do here.

I wonder if the waiter recognizes me. Gives cues but doesn’t say it. Last time he liked my Notorious B.I.G. shirt. He rapped “Up in restaurants, in mandolins and violins / We just sitting here tryna win, try not to sin”—I smiled. Big was his favorite rapper, had tickets to see him in Panama City Beach. Then Biggie was murdered. Dreams die quickly. Just like people.

I don’t wear that shirt today. He strains to remember me, doesn’t. The restaurant’s busier. Retired, rich Georgians who require exquisite service. Men wear crisp plaid button-ups and khakis. Some wear New Balances, others loafers. I make harsh critical judgments based on their shoe choice. The women dress how you expect.

Unfair self-loathing over not wearing my Biggie shirt. How large a difference stitched fibers make. This is a symbol for the frailty of human connection.

I go for a walk. Dreary day, gray, pavement wet from previous rain. I bring an umbrella but it never rains. ILOVEMAKONNEN’s “Loose With Me” is the soundtrack. Thought movement would spark some genius or life guidance. Instead I took pictures of myself.

Not myself, reflections at an abandoned glass house. Billy Joel would be proud. No rocks to throw, just a camera to shoot. Weapons are relative; my ammo is infinite. Sadly realizing I’m the millennial Bill Joel. Glass Houses was released on my birthday. This is real. Don’t ask me why. I don’t want to be alone.

Another job rejects me. They remind me it’s a competitive world out there. I tell few people. Try not to let it get to me. It does. People die slower than dreams.

Hipster high schoolers stare at me. I’m in their dope coffee spot. I occupy prime real estate; big table, all spread out. I don’t need this, but I don’t give it up. They sit outside, I stay inside. I don’t like the outside as much anymore.

Intentions on returning. Stop to buy Wild Turkey. Cheaper in Georgia than Florida. Man at the counter nods when I approach. He offers me respect, thanks me sincerely. I receive better service in Georgia than Florida. Probably because I’m white.

Enter living quarters. Friends watch TV, I sit down, join. Entertainment ensues, laughter happens. We go to bed. No one knows how I spend my days.