This might be it for TotD and the Meetups at the Movies. It might, in fact, be it for TotD and leaving the house at all: I have lost every last shred of patience I ever had with people and their chit-chat and their phones and their singing and their tentative after-song clapping and their belief that flip-flops are appropriate.
Everyone is dressed unacceptably, groomed haphazardly, and styling their hair in ways I do not approve of. There are the fat, who are loathsome; and the skinny, who are despicable and few. Various airs of varying foulness waft unchecked from every orifice.
People’s necks are disgusting.
Okay, pal. Wanna throttle back on body horror and agoraphobia?
I’m just expressing what everyone was thinking.
You were not. In no way, shape, or form. You were confused and frightened by all the uncontrollable stimuli and you responded by how?
How many times did you get out of your seat?
Eleven times. In the two hours you were there–and we’ll get to the bit where you left early–you bopped in and out of the theater eleven times. Bathroom, cigarette, Heineken, you needed to post to the blog because you’re awful, another cigarette…
I get ants in my pants.
The people in the theater were bothering me, so I went outside and then the people outside were bothering me, ao I went back in where it turned out the people had not changed one bit, so I went home. I saw Terrapin, which was the big thing, I guess.
Who knows? Maybe during Morning Dew a big dog ran onstage and Bobby wrestled it to submission with a thigh-lock?
Lot of Bobby on that screen.
But, you’ll never know.
Maybe I’ve grown out of a need for the communal experience. Also, I took a piss next to a guy whose prostate must have been the size of a catcher’s mitt. It sounded like this: “HAAAaaaaletsgo. CumMON. Humph. Humph. Ah, ah, ah. Ohhhh.”
I want you to call that psychiatrist back. Your type of crazy ends up on the evening news if you let it get out of hand.
Did I mention the necks?
You did, yes.