Rock Steady

Wait there’s a new beer pong room? I don’t know man, Bobby ate an Adderall this morning and just rearranged the entire house.

Sonic advertises it’s new gimmick, the “Brown Bag Special.” In no way is that appropriate or acceptable. The fuck?

The green apartment on Delaware Avenue is still green. It was painted a similar shade, it’s faded over time with the summers humid sizzle and the winters battering storms. The stairs have been repainted time and time again to refresh a worn look. The bar run from the basement floor of the apartment sent a dull murmur up through the floors into my bedroom, the decibel level never annoying. The stairs weren’t painted at the time, not with paint anyway. Every morning and every afternoon the stairs were covered with homeless men, or exhausted men both looking for a place to sit down and rest. We never minded them being there, I was young and oblivious and my mother was welcoming to the regulars. Friendly exchanges between them and us were reoccurring, at least thats how I remember it.

When we moved a fence was put at the bottom of the stairs, sending the homeless and exhausted searching for rest elsewhere like stray dogs, tails between legs. I can’t remember whether or not the sign read “keep off,” but it may as well have.

You don’t need maps, when you know where the sidewalk cracks. We’re all human snapshots of the cities we grew up in. There’s the big city people, those who carry that big name around with them with big attitude and big pride. There’s the mid-sized city people, often just a reflection of the big cities on a smaller scale. There’s the small city and small town people with small experiences but big imaginations about the bigger cities and the big opportunity. The big city people feel small when they’re at home, anonymous and insignificant for the most part, but represent their city with big pride when venturing from the home front. No matter where you’re from or where you go, you’re heart stays at home. Big city, big pride, big heart. Small city, big pride, big heart.

I live in one of those mid-sized cities. It’s got the appeal of both sides of the spectrum. Around 100,000 people, spread out across 21 square miles. The population doesn’t seem big until you realize the scale they’re spread across. I’m in college in a suburban sprawl city, about 90,000 people spread across 56 square miles. It doesn’t have the same feel. It’s not compact, so it doesn’t feel like my home city. Compact, community.

Look I’ve never had a dream in my life because a dream is what you wanna do but still haven’t pursued, I knew what I wanted and I did it ‘till it was done so I’ve been the dream that I wanted to be since day one.

I told my girlfriend I thought I might switch and try to go pre-dental. She said that she could see it. I asked, confused, how? Noting that my life has been surrounded by art and writing and creativity. She replied saying that I just kind of look like a dentist. Well, Okay.

According to Cash Cab, FIFA has more governing members than the UN.

Legitimate facial hair is something I’d like to have. This patchy mess strewn about my face could never form a beard, or even a 5 O’clock. A childish facade litters my face. Hairs accumulate on my chin and spill down onto my neck yet my cheeks are left, more or less, bare. Every time I shave I get a discouraging reminder that I’ll never be able to pull off the lumberjack look. Pity.