Wednesday, April 21, 2010

I borrowed my mom's car to drive here

I’ve been culling and organizing my notes from the summer and this past year. Now, I’ll remind you that back in P'mouth I would frequent a pub or two in town after work ended, and play at Hemingway, writing and drafting and whatnot. Every so often I would – unintentionally – overhear conversations and - then quite intentionally - copy out the gems. Here are some precious moments from July 30 (it’s relatively important that it was a Thursday, not a weekend, night):
“Is this your regular hangout, man?”

”No, I’m just here with my girl.”

“No doubt, no doubt.”

“What about you, what are you doing?”

“Man, my mom and I got into a big argument. I’m just getting a beer before a sausage. I’m f***ing starving. The man doesn’t open for another 20 minutes.”


“Man, my confidence is my strong suit. Those guys in UFC, WFC, they go for one jab. You see them fight, and they land one hit where I could get a combo in.”


“You know what I don’t understand is it seems like there are hot girls walking around Portsmouth all the time, but you get into bars and it’s all older guys.”
Oh, P’mouth. And I’m looking forward to returning to you, for some reason…

1 comment:

Stacey said...

Haha, oh Portsmouth . . .

Can't wait to have you playing Hemingway in our midst again soon.