(Taken from a writing on my phone, while at the bar.)
I used to know a lot of people but apparently I don't anymore. Fun, I had fun once, but the deserts of time have dried up and I am alone in the crowd once again. We used to take our fun seriously but as of late - ages later it seems - the fun well has dried up or withered or something egregious. All that's left is cold doorwarys and beer. And the arythmic cackles of whores cutting through the soft jazz, piercing eardrums and hopes to get laid.
It was a typical Friday night. No different than the current Friday nights. Eventually people would filter out - beer, the bar, the fading voices of lofty ideals for Saturday, it didn't matter. Sooner or later, dignity came stumbling out a fustrated and forlorn mess. You can cure the hangover but not the pathectic shell of a human being.
As far as shells go, though, it wasn't that bad. It had yet to be hardened by motivational exercise, untouched by organic food, an organism purely full of refined chemicals. Such beautiful chemicals they were! Alas, they were the kind that ended one's lifewspan early, much to the chargrin of genetics that would otherwise last until 90.
And maybe that was everyone's story - the Story of Chemeically Induced Shortened Lifespans. Who has the time far un UberChristain Lifestyle? Certainly not the denziens of this great city! Beer flowed like water, an artisanal well of failed hopes and dreams with a slightly hoppy flavor. A delicate balance of sobriety and drepression, which most people decide to call "fun".
Which is all well and good, until you realize it isn't.
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