the bar scene (or life as a little anecdote to be told to strangers over beers)

"Hey, do you mind if I join you girls?"

perceived: "Lalalalablahblahblah"


"Could I bring my drink over and sit with you two?"


"Um, yeah, sure."

Guy sits down with bottle of beer and shot of whiskey, brings out his blue pack of Pall Malls (tells the women they only used to make those in Europe), and procedes to talk...and talk...and talk.


"Blahblahblahblahblahblahblah.... I'd love to live in Indonesia"

"Oh really..." (smile and nod, focus back on whatever you were thinking.)

"Yeah, and then I went
here, and then I went there, and then I know this, and then I know that, and what do you do, and what do you do, and what do I do."

We know what you do. You go to bars because you're lonely-- your job sucks, you get no respect, the rent is too high, your wallet is too empty, the weather is shite, your room was too cold. You drink because it's better than nothing. You talk a lot because it takes up time. And if you get lucky, maybe you'll get some fresh pussy tonight. Nice to meet you too. Now let me tell you a little about me. Actually, let me not tell you anything about me. It'll be too much-- really. So let's just pour out these vacant, hollowed truths simply, cheaply, like generic bottled beers. Two-fifty a pop. Hey, a six-pack is only six bucks here. And that's about as cheap as this conversation makes me feel.

This is the other side.

--Kat La Chatte
3:51AM, 2/25/01