this couple’s bill was $60.62. it was the last table i had, and they left cash on the table. I went and picked it up and said said thanks, and asked if they needed any change. they replied no, i thanked them again, and i went to the computer to pay them out. i look at the cash in my hands, and i realize it’s only three twenties. not even enough to cover the bill, let alone a fuckin tip. i came back on the floor to tell them they were short, but they were already gone.
cashing out that night, i had to pay a dollar of my own money, since we always just round up or down instead of fucking around with change. i had to pay a dollar to wait on this table.
nights like these are when i agree with people who say that everyone should work in a restaurant or service industry. it’s not so you can find out that people are assholes. if you haven’t found that out yet, i don’t know what you’ve been doing. i guess just wait 18 months after you finish high school and think back to everyone you met and how many people you still talk to. You’ll realize there really aren’t many of those fuckers you’d wanna waste your time catching up with.
but what fucks with my head the most, and why i think everyone needs to experience working in a restaurant, is to learn that these people exist. they’re miserable, obviously. i’m upset they shortchanged me because it’s all i’m gonna think about for the next week or so. it’s gonna come to me randomly tomorrow afternoon while i’m walking on campus, and right before i go to sleep tonight, or in the midst of conversation with someone. this couple probably goes around, just doing shit like this. i don’t know why, or what makes them act that way, or why they’re even together. they’re quite, unassuming, kinda awkward. the woman is anyway, kinda sheepish, short modest hair and glasses, asking awkward questions, making it apparent she doesn’t interact socially very much. lots of people are like that though, i guess, but what the fuck happened to her that she doesn’t fucking tip? and the guy, he’s quiet, polite, tall, stocky. not weird like she is. normal guy. he spoke softly, they conversed. actually she kinda just talked the whole time and he listened. how did they meet? why do they even like each other? it can’t be enjoyable, it must be fucking miserable for them to go out in public, humiliating. that’s what i think about anyway, that these people exist and they’re rotting and walking and can’t be happy with their lives. they absolutely cannot. and if they are, then i don’t even know. if they’re genuinely happy like that, if that’s what happiness is, i don’t want to ever be fucking happy. just meeting them makes other people miserable. plus they don’t tip.
the thought of them sitting at that table, having a miserable conversation, them having miserable sex at their home, them sitting by the fireplace at a miserable christmas, them having a miserable dog, just their utterly miserable lives/existence. those are the images that come to mind, constantly, for the next week or so. i don’t give a fuck about paying a lousy dollar, i’d pay a hundred bucks to if i could have just gone on with my life not encountering these two people.
i remember my freshman year of high school when i first listened to bloc party/bought silent alarm. it was one of my first trips to cactus records, and my dad took me, and i listened the fuck outta that album. it definitely holds a special place in my heart.
then i went out and got the remix album at like, circuit city or somewhere really random, and i was really excited because i love (almost) every song on silent alarm, and i really liked the artists doing the remixes, like m83, ladytron, dfa1979 (which is my favorite track off silent alarm remixed), and mogwai. and then i listened to it and was really disappointed. i just didn’t really like it as much as i thought i would.
and it was at that point when i realized i didn’t really care too much for electronic music. i guess i really just have to be in a certain mood. and it was a bummer to listen to every bloc party album after, and to discover nothing really sounds like silent alarm. it’s just a lost less post-punk and a lot more electronic. for me anyway.
but the whole point is last night this song came on shuffle, and i realized how beautiful it is. enjoyed it a lot more quite a few years later.
i finally broke on christmas eve in an outback steakhouse bathroom while my family ordered for me haven’t been losing sleep, no i pass out almost instantly the bad dreams get worse every week, i think i’m losing a little of me
“And nothing was interesting, nothing. The people were restrictive and careful, all alike. And I’ve got to live with these fuckers for the rest of my life, I thought. God, they all had assholes and sexual organs and their mouths and their armpits. They shit and they chattered and they were dull as horse dung. The girls looked good from a distance, the sun shining through their dresses, their hair. But you get up close and listen to their minds running out of their mouths, you felt like digging in under a hill and hiding out with a tommy-gun. I would certainly never be able to be happy, to get married, I could never have children. Hell, I couldn’t even get a job as a dishwasher.”—Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye.
the only poem my professor actually liked. all he wrote on it was “good” at the very bottom. thanks, i guess. we wrote 6, and it’s not even one i enjoyed writing the most or think is my best. i’ll prolly post the one i am actually proud of too, eventually. but here it is:
Sentimental For Everything
My fingers are straining, holding the box as I walk. Inside contains everything I want to take with me. Inside my head are things I cannot place in that box. Some of them I don’t wish to take. Some of them I wish I could replay, And live again day after day.
I stop and undo the gate’s latch. It lurches and creaks and begs me not to go. I look at the house- At everything it means, At everything it was. I think about how it makes me feel, I think about how inside smells, And how I’ll never find anything That comes close to that scent again.
My mind goes to the back of the yard where the dog is buried. My feet tread over the part in the path Where little sister fell and busted her chin. I think of the day when my mother answered the phone To news of her brother’s passing. I stood there in the kitchen, and watched her scream and cry.
I do not wish to leave. I take off my shoes and socks and feel the driveway’s asphalt. I remember how it used to be white gravel. I remember what this looked like in ‘92 after the ice storm. I remember taking a picture with my father, in this exact spot.
I walk barefooted to the mailbox, like so many summer afternoons before, When mother asked me to check the mail, and then became mad At the dirt I tracked back into the house.
I’m too sentimental for my own good. It’s just a house, It’s just a place. I load the last box and start the engine. I leave, Knowing nothing stays the same, No matter how hard you try.
and i can feel myself starting to get into a rut. i almost can’t wait for summer school to start, because it’ll give me something to do. some purpose i guess. it’s funny how while these days are slowly peeling away, i look back and feel sad they’re gone.
like yesterday, i didn’t do anything. i was in a weird mood pretty much for the entirety of it. i hardly left the couch. but i look back on it and miss it, and consider it a good day. the parts where i actually did something were a lot of fun. i left the house at like 7 to play baseball with matt. it was a nice evening, not too hot. we climbed a chain link fence like little kids and got into this lot. we called it a nuclear graveyard because we weren’t sure what was in there, just a bunch of pvc pipes and shit leading towards places. but we went in and played catch, and then one of us would throw the ball into the air to ourselves and try to hit the shit out of it while the other person ran it down. it was a lot more fun than sounded. my sides are sore this morning because i don’t think i’ve swung a bat in like 12 years. we would laugh cause i would swing as hard as i could and miss the ball completely like 7 times out of 10. but every now and then i got it pretty good.
after we went to house of pies, and it was awesome. chicken fried steak and 2 over easy eggs, with hashbrowns and an english muffin. fit for a king. seriously, i never have a bad meal or time at that place. it’s a house favorite. and then it was right back to the couch where i had just spent the entire day and just watched stupid shit on netflix. and i hated it. we did play a couple really stupid games of beer pong, because we were that bored. i did get kinda drunk enough to jam with dustin at like 1:30am. we had been listening to sum 41 and i guess i kinda got pumped. i can only play guitar for like 30 minutes before my hard starts to cramp up. but those 30 minutes are kinda good. it’s kinda like when i play baseball. 3/4ths of the time i suck and it sounds like shit, but for 5-8 minute spurts we get into something and it actually sounds pretty good. to me, at least.
and today, i got up, really late, ate breakfast and watched rollerball. what the fuck am i doing with my life.
we’ll see what the rest of the day brings. right now it’s boring as fuck but i bet a week from now i’ll be missing and yearning for it.
Coog Radio would like to personally thank all of the artists who made this compilation possible, our listeners for their love and support, the University of Houston for letting our voice be heard, and lastly, the city of Houston for which our first compilation is dedicated to.
had a really good day, despite a number of things. I had another new alternator put in my car, for the second time in about 6 weeks. It didn’t cost me anything at least. But I got to hang out and pal around Cypress with my dad for a few hours. We drank a few beers and ate raw oysters. It’s crazy how much better we get along now that I’m older, but I guess I don’t like little kids either. We show each other bands. I’ll put Real Estate on for my dad, and he’d be like “They’re alright, check this out”, and he’ll put on some weird band he found on Grateful Dead Pandora, and I’d be like “They’re alright”. Neither of us like the Grateful Dead but for some reason he loves the Grateful Dead Pandora station.
After I got my car back I went back into town, I’ve been doing everything I wanted to do since finishing school this semester. It includes lots of reading, naps, drinking, lounging, and listening to records. I’ve been pretty all-out schlep, and it’s great. Unproductive, and great. There’s shit I could worry about, a lot of shit, but right now I’m not. I’ll figure it out later, maybe.
But now, I just took a long, hot, shower and made a cranberry vodka, Dustin style. Big ass cup with 3/4ths cheap ass vodka and the rest with ocean spray. 1 and done. Putting on Do the Right Thing, cause Mookie and the Italians put me in a good mood. Goodnight moon.
i saw this same old couple at little woodrows tonight as i did last sunday.
there was nobody on their patio, again. except for me and yuval, and the two old people. it was nice seeing them though. that’s how i wanna be when i’m old, doing the same routine because i like it and it feels good. it’ll be nice to find someone to do it with too, someone who likes going out just to go out and enjoy the evening, with a beer. it’s been a strange day though. the rockets lost by 15, it didn’t help. sometimes the day after a lot of people are coming through the house is when i feel the shittiest. it sucks because it’s so obvious people are just here to “party” when in fact they’re “taking advantage”, but it’s whatever because when people aren’t here it’s lonely and kinda shitty. and it’s fucked up that i miss them when they’re gone. and when i say them i mean the fucking 35-40 people that show up what feels like every other weekend to get wasted at our house. i don’t even like most of them but still, i guess it’s something to do. and the place just feels empty when they’re gone. or i feel empty. all the time actually.
it’s been a rough year. it’s only april. i say only april but the year is a quarter over already. it feels a lot longer and shorter at the same time. i suppose because so much has happened but i still can remember halloween like yesterday. but it’s been pretty shitty. i think of it as: the year i lost my grandparents. the year i lost friends. the year i realized nobody is gonna be there except for yourself. the year that my car fucked me over more than any other year combined. the year i discovered how quickly things change. the year i where i didn’t know what to do.
i don’t know what to think. this is stupid. i’ve been waiting for things to line up and fall into place for awhile, and they just don’t.
i’m trying my best to make this day not completely terrible and miserable. but i just feel weird.
i’m trying to enjoy the little things, however few and far between they may be.
small victories, in between lots and lots of complete shit.
i always find myself saying, “i wish i could have handled that situation better. next time i know, next time i will handle the situation better”. and i never do. in the heat of the moment, everything gets lost. it’s sad, but not for that reason only. there’s lots of things that are sad right now.
for as much as you think you know, there’s still so much that you don’t. i am always learning, some things harder than others.
sometimes i see stuff i can't stop thinking about it/assuming things and it makes me feel weird
like it’s little non-important things other people do, and it sticks with me and makes me feel weird. it probably has absolutely no consequence on the actual person’s life, but for some reason it breaks my fucking heart and i don’t know why.
last night while i was scarfing down my tacos outside a food truck, this tall girl came up, walking alone, and said, “i followed my nose”. there were a few of us standing out there, but no one said anything. i was kinda drunk, but i probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway, just because i’m awkward.
anyway she walked up to order from the food truck, still alone, and asked, “Do you have any empanadas?” and the man behind the counter was like “What?” and she asked again, “Do you have an empeñadas?” (and i recognized the empeñadas because so many white people at the restaurant try ordering empanadas and they can’t say it, and i guess they try and make it sound like piñatas). and the man behind the counter was like “No”. So the girl just asked for a quesadilla and then ate it, alone.
and i can’t stop thinking about her, and how sad she probably was to be at a bar alone (which i can’t say for sure if she was alone, i just didn’t see her with anyone). and i can’t get over how she tried ordering empanadas, because she was probably trying to be cool but in reality she’s only had them once before because someone else got them and she really liked them, but she has no one what they are. and the food truck didn’t even have any. and she probably just wanted friends or someone to talk to. and those few minutes keep replaying in my head and it makes me really sad. i woke up in a weird mood today.
is the single most terrifying experience. i felt like i was fred armisen when he’s the biker on Portlandia. “5 FEET 5 FEET! BIKE RIGHT”
yesterday i went on a mini-bender because i stayed up real late and did real bad on my test. i was real sad so i got real high and drank like 5 beers and ate a whole frozen pizza and fell asleep on my couch. going real hard.
and then today me and drab went literally bought 20 VHS at the thrift store. it’s fucking cool, we just watched The 5th Element. That movie kinda sucks but it was cool cause it was on VHS.
and now i’m going to St. Dane’s. because it’s wednesday. and i wanna get drunk, and i don’t have anything better to do. fuck school.