Poetry Night and Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving was suprisingly decent. My family forgot about me for nearly an entire day and it was wonderful. I watched TV which i havent done in a long time and now i remember why: Fitness Celebrity John Basedows nightmarishly small head.
It was a pretty standard holiday. I had to explain to my grandmother what a bong is and my aunt and uncle brought to the feast a "free-range, organic chicken"; a phrase that all too accurately describes a pigeon. On the way back, my low beams stopped working so i drove the remaining hour and a half with my high beams on, pissing off everyone on the road. This was the highlight of my Thanksgiving.
Last night was poetry night at the Gypsy. The dark, smoky ambience of building makes it the perfect place to regurgitate the most painful bits of your life for the amusement of others. So that it exactly what i did.

Sunday Register

"I sit and watch them drift in.
They give me their money, I put it in the register.
I nurse my hangover.
At 12:00 they all flock in and glare at the still drunken heathen behind the counter.
I give them their change as their Escalade rolls out of the wash looking shiny and new for them to head back to church with their condemnations of me and their carefully calculated 10% that they use to pay God not to punish them for being just like me."

Every Relationship

"You are the lottery ticket that i hold.
I hold it regardless of the fact that it has already lost.
I hold it because i like to remember that i once had a chance.
You are the smoke that curls from my lips.
I once held you in the most intimate way.
Now you drift away as i watch you dissapate."

After the Gypsy closed, a few of us headed back to Bash's place. It is an industrial building that resembles a grain silo that some pranksters tipped over so the owners just slapped a door on the bottom and started charging rent or perhaps a midget airplane hangar. The rest of the night/morning was spent throwing around comedy ideas and doing improv with the various hoola-hoops and juggling items that were lying around. The inside of Bash's apartment looks like where circuses go to die.