Let's Go to the Coffeeshop--YAH

Rainy Saturday. I feel dizzy, Sumatran dark roast won't fix me. Old men sit outside on the benches and yawn, erudite or bemused? It's impossible to tell.


Ballzack and Odoms watch Youtube videos of themselves on their blackberries, in between free styles a la jay and silent bob. Ur, except double the Jay. Is that what this is? Illusion of a sophisticated hang, because of Amsterdam and the French salon? But really, no different from the stoop or the Quicky Mart. I want to ask them what rhymes with "the girl in the overalls," but hope it's already come to them. Slacker musicians rise late, dabble in notepads. What's with the Ole Miss grad in pink polo loud on the phone trading stocks? Smudged fresco of horses arace, but nobody studies the bill here. Rue de la Course and Fair Grinds get it wrong, though Degas would've painted it so. Boredom looms at the track around the corner, believe me. Internet's down and it's just as well, so insouciant I am with my words.

How do the dogs feel, to measure their lives in coffee spoons?

Soprano's Meat Market

I fell for the gimmick.



How does one take pictures without a)looking like an asshole b) getting hit by a car?


One dog goes one way, one dog goes the other way...



Where da cold cuts 'n shit?

Venice? or Mid-City

From Billy Goat's Gruff Bridge:

Moses in the Reeds? I'm a dilettantish Jewish scholar.

Mid-City Walk

One of my favorite views: rows of Easter-egg shotguns across Bayou St. John.


Including Parkway bakery:






I'm pretty attached to my local gas station. Is that unusual?



What up Civil War Monument:

Mid-City Lights

and a few lakeview lights:

Snow Day

Ok, it was cute for five minutes, but I don't live in Ohio anymore, what is this!!!

No, just kidding; to be honest, it gave me a thrill.

Spin the Bar Wheel! or The Return of the Blog

Oh my god, like where are we going out tonight? I really need something new, I'm in like such a funk. Oh my god, you fucking bitch, you did not just suggest Balcony. I'm like so over Balcony. Please, how about something new??? Like a different neighborhood? Oh really, you think there's no boys in Mid-City? That doesn't even make sense, what are you even talking about. Ok, I'm done with this conversation, let's see what the Bar Wheel has to say: Spppiiinnnnnnn!

The Bar Wheel landed on.....THE MID-CITY YACHT CLUB!!! Your retarded friends won't know how to get there, so they probably won't make it. But your friends who have a clue will come along and have a good time. Not only is the Bar Wheel a lifesaver, but it's also a weeding out process, if you see what I mean...

Everybody needs one. The Bar Wheel helps you expand your horizons. Keep your outlook fresh, and your experiences new, always changing. Sometimes you have to relinquish control, give yourself up to fate, the wheel of fortuna, so to speak. Like Bjork says, it's not up to you, it never really was. Nietzsche says the story of civilization is the will to power. Well, you know every friend group has a leader, that cock sucker who's like, we're doing this tonight. With the Bar Wheel, you can shrug off that age-old struggle with a simple spin, discontinue the pattern of the oppressed overthrowing his oppressor only to command the same abuse of power.

What are the limitations of the Bar Wheel? It's only made of wood, and doesn't spin on its own, unless there's a draught in the room. You can spin it and see where the pointer lands, but Bar Wheel cannot force you to go there. But that's okay; the Bar Wheel merely suggests, means to open your mind to new possibilities. The Bar Wheel doesn't know what time it is, that you just got off work and are tired, that such-and-such-place is closed, or that you want to go to some particular mediocre spot to meet somebody who won't be worth it (don't be a loser). The Bar Wheel doesn't know what kind of person you are, but it does know there's always room for improvement, so no matter your caliber, the Bar Wheel seeks to make you better. How can you go wrong?

If you want one, leave a comment with your information. And we'll even custom make you one for your city.

Peeper

"I am so incensed."--Jude

Ever been peeped on? In our delightful little Mid City doll-house, I'm resting my service-industry legs on the living-room couch, surfing the internet, tweaking my blog to perfection, etc., when some lanky scraggly-haired white dude peeps in my front door window. Now, of course, I'm sure he's Jude, as he and my roommate are due back from some bywater haunt. Then the face is gone, and I return to my work, expecting to hear jangling keys and door-knob negotiations post-porch -cigarette.

Fifteen minutes later, Jude and Betsy arrive home. "You scared the shit out of me, Jude!" "What are you talking about?" Etc. Back and forth. It wasn't Jude!!! Jude and Betsy go to bed.

Fifteen minutes later, in my same position on the couch, wondering if I ought to relocate--the face returns to the window! "Stop it!" I scream and run into Betsy's room, picking up a loose hammer to hold in my hand for security. "We're calling 911," says Betsy. Jude dials:

"So, the door...it has a window in it...there was this guy....Kate?"

"Yeah, give me the phone."

The police are there in five! Wow. We greet the middle-aged, mustached officer on the porch, and Betsy and Jude deliver slow, perfume-drenched accounts. I describe the guy--"She thought he was me," explains Jude--and officer dispatches two of his boys to drive around the neighborhood. A few words of wisdom, and the officer leaves us, we retreat back inside.

"Let's peeper-proof the window," says Betsy.

We thumb-tack a sheet to the window, and then laugh about "peeper-proofing" for a little while.

Betsy wants to go to bed, but Jude is pissed. "I was so drunk when I got home, and now I'm completely sober, I want to kill someone, I want to murder him."

"Jude, you should start lifting weights," I say, and then quote my favorite rapper for emphasis: "'I'm drinking milk, baby, I'm working out, and I want to love you with my mouth.'"

"No, no," he shakes his head at me, "That doesn't even matter. It's the sheer aggression that gets it done."

"Jude I have to go to bed," wails Betsy.

"I am so incensed."

"Let's watch a movie," I say.

We settle on The Muppets Take Manhattan. Kermit is so endearing, and Animal is hysterical. We all fall asleep together on the living room floor.


So, I ask, what the fuck is the deal with peepers? Are peepers a thing? I never read about peepers in the police blotter. What does the peeper want? Just a look? Just the tip. It should be a song, like Tubthumper.

Ever had a peeper experience? Do share your stories below.