last night i went to the closest white person bar to my house (in the mission bars are divided between hipster places and serious adult drunk dive bars that open at 8 am, and it is easiest to use the terms “white” and “mexican” to differentiate between the two even though: a) there are plenty of non-white hipsters in the mission [yeah like 2] and b) i know that a lot of the hispanic population here is not from mexico and c) a lot of the drunks are most certainly white) (but i am lazy) (and some would say, racist) with my new passing-through friend, nathan. this bar, pop’s, is my top choice bar in the mission. but since it is so close to my house (in the ghetto) (again, a racist), most kids i know aren’t as stoked about it as i am. but i am really stoked! so i bring my visitors to experience the magic. last night we got hamms for a dollar and the bartender put an extra hole in it so we could chug it if we wanted!
i sort of love that place. how can you love a bar? this is what happens when you emerge from the fog of 20 years of seasonal affective disorder. bars turn into rainbows; the homeless are happy elves.
nathan said that people in pittsburgh suffer from seasonal affective disorder too, much like oregonians. i wonder if there is a government program that can help with this problem. or maybe, is that what global warming is all about?
here is my finished self-portrait:
oh and in the spirit of thursday i watched the first disc of my so-called life and the first disc of season 4 of the wire. i love them both. i think they almost need to be watched together. i think together they may actually fully express what it means to be alive.