Culture, Sports, Writing…or whatever
The more I grow up the less I believe American Beauty is dumb movie. Slight clarification: Never thought it was a ‘dumb’ movie. Couldn’t buy its ‘meaning’ scene. That moment an artist nakedly reveals their core expression. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder but: A plastic bag dancing in the wind can’t be the most beautiful thing in the world. I used to feel that rather strongly.
Everyone seems happy I’m home. Including the local bartender. He recognizes me and fills my drink as I sit down. Our relationship provides the most comfort. He never asks anything of me except money.
I’m not sure what I’m running from but I’m running still. It’s not sad. Probably daily media reminders of our frail mortality. Guns, terrorists, heartbreak, the Jaguars losing, what racist morons will perpetrate to rid the fear we all feel. It can be a lot sometimes.
Anxiety and claustrophobia encroaches. I leave. I skateboard and snapchat myself. A$AP Rocky’s “L$D” rotates on the shuffle playlist. High and heartbroken I feel.
Lights blind me from a distance. A street aptly named “Candy Cane Lane.” Well it’s not a lane. It’s a cul-de-sac. And there’s no actual candycanes. I’ve never seen any. But everything’s bright and attracts neighbors and many photo-ops and overall creates a scene. Movies aren’t a dead medium.
We had a talk to agree we shouldn’t talk anymore. We talked about what we weren’t talking about to conclude why we won’t talk after this talk. This talk devolved into another talk regarding the last talk of why we stopped talking. Our present talk repeated the past talk. There were regrets expressed on talking again only to stop talking again. We talked some more after concluding we wouldn’t be talking following this talk so we felt pressured to fit in some final talk. Then the talk ended.
I forgot to ask about my sunglasses. I remain blinded by the light. Maybe I should write a song about it.
The next day I lie out beside the pool. It remains hot enough to do this though I don’t like that. I try to read but I can’t focus. My mind keeps drifting. Like a plastic bag dancing in the wind. Beautiful is a bloated word.
[a] millennial reservations 