Burgers And Beer
Lorina and I not having anything thawed and at least pretending budgetary constraints, belabored over what to eat for dinner. We have this 20 dollar for two rule we are trying out but beyond fast food that is a pretty tough constraint and on top of that the nearest fast food is almost twenty miles away, which could easily be considered a good thing, except when you are really hungry and tired and don't want the extra labor of cooking and cleaning up added to your day.
It was going to be my birthday soon so I said hey its going to be my birthday soon, we can go to that quaint little place with the outdoor seating and occasional septic overflow and have a hopefully juicy burger and two pints of stout a piece for about 20 dollars for each of us and even though that's twice over the budget, let's just live.
So we agreed on that and Lorina takes the scenic route up Fodderstack Rd. and I collar the first waitress I see in the bar and say, we can sit outside? and she says sure, but it's a little cold. We brought jackets, I say self-assuredly and with some pride, even though my jacket is a wreck, and I'm in dirty work clothes. "It's a little cold" turned out to be a euphemism for there is occasional septic overflow and depending on prevailing winds you might spend part of your meal thinking about dogshit.
It's hard getting me out sometimes because of my questionable feelings about larger congregations of humanity and I know in this tiny area the chances of running into someone we know is large and even though I haven't really met a bucketful of people I enjoy sharing Lorina with I accept the necessity of occasionally relating to people and being personable, which is a thing I am capable of and not all that shitty at, if not exactly drawn towards. So, I know we are going to run into somebody before we even go and I have factored that in to my wholehearted decision to go out and spend money we don't have on burgers that are adequate but not great and draft pints of Guinness (not that goddamned 11.2 ounce bottle) which are great, always great, just great. Where would any of us be without Guinness (although I have started drinking budweiser again as a mainstay of the budget.)
I know budgetary talk is less preferable than walking barefoot on rusty nails. You won't hear another word about it from me.
I was 24 hours recovered from my back pain medication abuse and had a hazy feeling affecting me not so distinctly that you would see a difference, if already you knew me. I hungrily devoured (Guinness qualifies as food) my first pint, only slowing down for the last few sips because I saw that Lorina was barely one sip into hers. She was facing the prevailing breeze and so was for the first few minutes distracted by a smell she thought was dogshit, and that apparently kept her thirst at bay.
We have, her and I, on a few occasions, driven to this town forty miles away, for Mexican food. We like it better than the 16 mile choice or the 22 mile choice, and the six mile choice went belly up, twice, because it sucked, both times. The last time we drove the forty miles, someone Lorina knew from our area was there, used to date the waitress he did, but on that day was content to plop down and regale us with his totally not uninteresting pursuits which nonetheless suffered from the overeagerness of his delivery, and that one unfortunate image seemingly derivative of a very popular yet somewhat shallow Leonardo di Caprio flick. We get plenty plenty of time alone Lorina and I do but still I can't seem to be sated by it and so I was a little put out by the intrusion but not overly so. Afterall, no man is an island, and equally possible is that no two people are a peninsula. We had a nice day together.
Back at the quaint place with occasional septic overflow it's the same guy who shows up and sits himself down summarily without an invite, although of course he was welcome. I mean that sincerely. But he appeared to be a few pints of lager ahead of my stout consumption, and, don't forget my residual drug hangover. And he went on and on and on, with equal or greater enthusiasm than he had showed interrupting our Mexican date. After he left, Lorina said I was dismissive of him, and I agreed with her about that, because that is exactly how I did feel after realizing his intention was not to have an interesting and lively three way discussion but rather to bogart my girlfriend with a version of himself that sounded pleasing, with occasional glances in my direction. The irony of "a version of himself that sounded pleasing..." is not lost on me, selective chronicler that I am.
He did get up and leave though, and so abruptly, that I was momentarily ashamed of my lack of embrace.
But shame, I think, is a thing of questionable value. If it spurs you on to greater performance then let's call it a good thing, but if, for example, you are a person who already helps many people, and you are visiting relatives who are economically less fortunate, and for no reason, let's just say I am with you, a last minute addition to your plans, and you are flying us around on a private jet, changing and arranging flights as your whim dictates, on a Blackberry, while being chauffeured, even if only by me, and you start feeling the weight of a trailer home juxtaposed against that jet meeting us late on a small strip miles from nowhere, rest assured that the reason I'm telling you not to dwell in guilt is not because I am the current benefactor of your graciousness but because I study that on an off day you do more for more people than any of the complainers who would have the leisure of time to suggest that your affluence is somehow wrong, or bad, or unnecessary.
At the outside table the wind blew fortuitously, Lorina's eyes gleamed, the yuppie man talking loudly about his wife's bowel movements was testament to the imperfection just under the surface of even the best moments.
Hey Jim,
Missed for a while there, hadn't read since the If Thou Be Near and quit checking b/c it was frustrating me. Now, you're back ! So glad. I am in New Orleans now. There is a horrible spike in violent crimes right now...you're right. In my own ghettohood, Treme, there was a man killed in the ally of one of my friends house on Sat night. We have also had a couple/three shootings near my condo in the garden district too. Drugs/gangs, rah rah rah. Glad to hear your place rented, I've been wondering about that.
|
Lorina and I not having anything thawed and at least pretending budgetary constraints, belabored over what to eat for dinner. We have this 20 dollar for two rule we are trying out but beyond fast food that is a pretty tough constraint and on top of that the nearest fast food is almost twenty miles away, which could easily be considered a good thing, except when you are really hungry and tired and don't want the extra labor of cooking and cleaning up added to your day.
It was going to be my birthday soon so I said hey its going to be my birthday soon, we can go to that quaint little place with the outdoor seating and occasional septic overflow and have a hopefully juicy burger and two pints of stout a piece for about 20 dollars for each of us and even though that's twice over the budget, let's just live.
So we agreed on that and Lorina takes the scenic route up Fodderstack Rd. and I collar the first waitress I see in the bar and say, we can sit outside? and she says sure, but it's a little cold. We brought jackets, I say self-assuredly and with some pride, even though my jacket is a wreck, and I'm in dirty work clothes. "It's a little cold" turned out to be a euphemism for there is occasional septic overflow and depending on prevailing winds you might spend part of your meal thinking about dogshit.
It's hard getting me out sometimes because of my questionable feelings about larger congregations of humanity and I know in this tiny area the chances of running into someone we know is large and even though I haven't really met a bucketful of people I enjoy sharing Lorina with I accept the necessity of occasionally relating to people and being personable, which is a thing I am capable of and not all that shitty at, if not exactly drawn towards. So, I know we are going to run into somebody before we even go and I have factored that in to my wholehearted decision to go out and spend money we don't have on burgers that are adequate but not great and draft pints of Guinness (not that goddamned 11.2 ounce bottle) which are great, always great, just great. Where would any of us be without Guinness (although I have started drinking budweiser again as a mainstay of the budget.)
I know budgetary talk is less preferable than walking barefoot on rusty nails. You won't hear another word about it from me.
I was 24 hours recovered from my back pain medication abuse and had a hazy feeling affecting me not so distinctly that you would see a difference, if already you knew me. I hungrily devoured (Guinness qualifies as food) my first pint, only slowing down for the last few sips because I saw that Lorina was barely one sip into hers. She was facing the prevailing breeze and so was for the first few minutes distracted by a smell she thought was dogshit, and that apparently kept her thirst at bay.
We have, her and I, on a few occasions, driven to this town forty miles away, for Mexican food. We like it better than the 16 mile choice or the 22 mile choice, and the six mile choice went belly up, twice, because it sucked, both times. The last time we drove the forty miles, someone Lorina knew from our area was there, used to date the waitress he did, but on that day was content to plop down and regale us with his totally not uninteresting pursuits which nonetheless suffered from the overeagerness of his delivery, and that one unfortunate image seemingly derivative of a very popular yet somewhat shallow Leonardo di Caprio flick. We get plenty plenty of time alone Lorina and I do but still I can't seem to be sated by it and so I was a little put out by the intrusion but not overly so. Afterall, no man is an island, and equally possible is that no two people are a peninsula. We had a nice day together.
Back at the quaint place with occasional septic overflow it's the same guy who shows up and sits himself down summarily without an invite, although of course he was welcome. I mean that sincerely. But he appeared to be a few pints of lager ahead of my stout consumption, and, don't forget my residual drug hangover. And he went on and on and on, with equal or greater enthusiasm than he had showed interrupting our Mexican date. After he left, Lorina said I was dismissive of him, and I agreed with her about that, because that is exactly how I did feel after realizing his intention was not to have an interesting and lively three way discussion but rather to bogart my girlfriend with a version of himself that sounded pleasing, with occasional glances in my direction. The irony of "a version of himself that sounded pleasing..." is not lost on me, selective chronicler that I am.
He did get up and leave though, and so abruptly, that I was momentarily ashamed of my lack of embrace.
But shame, I think, is a thing of questionable value. If it spurs you on to greater performance then let's call it a good thing, but if, for example, you are a person who already helps many people, and you are visiting relatives who are economically less fortunate, and for no reason, let's just say I am with you, a last minute addition to your plans, and you are flying us around on a private jet, changing and arranging flights as your whim dictates, on a Blackberry, while being chauffeured, even if only by me, and you start feeling the weight of a trailer home juxtaposed against that jet meeting us late on a small strip miles from nowhere, rest assured that the reason I'm telling you not to dwell in guilt is not because I am the current benefactor of your graciousness but because I study that on an off day you do more for more people than any of the complainers who would have the leisure of time to suggest that your affluence is somehow wrong, or bad, or unnecessary.
At the outside table the wind blew fortuitously, Lorina's eyes gleamed, the yuppie man talking loudly about his wife's bowel movements was testament to the imperfection just under the surface of even the best moments.
- jimlouis 5-05-2005 7:43 pm
Hey Jim,
Missed for a while there, hadn't read since the If Thou Be Near and quit checking b/c it was frustrating me. Now, you're back ! So glad. I am in New Orleans now. There is a horrible spike in violent crimes right now...you're right. In my own ghettohood, Treme, there was a man killed in the ally of one of my friends house on Sat night. We have also had a couple/three shootings near my condo in the garden district too. Drugs/gangs, rah rah rah. Glad to hear your place rented, I've been wondering about that.
- Laureen (guest) 5-05-2005 10:58 pm [add a comment]