Flavor Of The Weak​


What’s hot and what’s not? That is the question.

And, what do you do on your days off? That’s an important question.

Last Monday night, I didn’t really do anything, per se. I kept busy, but none of my activities were actually noteworthy. I wouldn’t necessarily write about my Monday night or the entire week for that matter. I wouldn’t want to bore you with those mundane details.

No, I didn’t just sit in a chair and stare at the wall. That would be absurd.

I listened to “Low” by Cracker. Then, I had a plate of Wheat Thins, with salami and cheddar cheese. I was still hungry, so I followed that up with a Caesar salad. Then, I did the dishes. I watched Seinfeld, too. Turns out, Elaine can’t dance, and Jerry forgot to make his bed.

I was tired on Monday Night. “I’m Always Tired” on Mondays. My “Phase (of Brilliance)” had subsided. I needed to find some more inspiration, so I listened to a handful of tunes, both old and new. I came to the following conclusions:

I don’t watch the news anymore; I live in my own reality. It’s my version of the “American Dream.” I don’t have a white picket fence, though. Thankfully, I live in a gated community in East Oakland.

Yeah, I’m just a “Victim Of Reality.”

Still, I keep dreaming.

See, I have to write to cope with the bullshit. And, I usually write on Mondays. This week has been tough, though. I wanted to do a preview for the Pennywise show this Saturday in Sacramento, but now I’m “Running Out Of Time.”

And, I usually eat cereal for breakfast, but the past couple of days, I’ve been eating Eggo Waffles. It’s a dose of sweet goodness.

And, I usually watch Seinfeld, but lately, I’ve been indulging in SMILF on Showtime. For the uninformed, it stands for “Single Mom, I’d Like to Fuck.” It’s a dose of reality.

Meanwhile, a good number of my friends are investing in cryptocurrencies.

In addition, most of my friends like the Warriors. “Me too! I like the Dubs!”

And, some of my friends like The Menzingers. “I like the Menzos, as well!”

Plus, a handful of my friends live in the Bay Area. “I live in the Bay, too!”

Good news, folks:

It seems that my existential dread has passed. Now, I’m “Falling in Love Again.” After all, there are so many things out there with which to fall in love. But, do you really think you’re going to find love on the Internet?

Last Tuesday night, I had an abbreviated Thanksgiving dinner with my parents. I usually have dinner with my parents on Sunday evenings. I’m thankful for that.

I worked last Wednesday morning, but it was pretty slow. I dubbed it “The Calm Before The Storm.”

Last Wednesday night, I saw Joyce Manor at the UC Theatre in Berkeley. Culture Abuse were the opening act. Culture Abuse also happen to be a great band.

I wore my Menzingers t-shirt, and I also wore my heart on my sleeve. When they played “Eighteen,” I thought to myself, “[I] just [want to] find something to do and then do it.”

I ate dinner at Barclay’s Pub on Shattuck. I had a big salad alongside a Pliny The Elder. I always have a big salad. I had only heard of Pliny The Elder, but I had never tried it before.

At the bar, I sat next to a corporate banker in street clothes. Let’s call him Jim. Jim and I talked about Straight Ahead. Jim claimed that Straight Ahead is, hands-down, the best Pennywise record to date. I agreed. Likewise, I told him to revisit Land of The Free? He didn’t know of Joyce Manor, though. And, I’m not entirely sure if he is an advocate of blockchain technology.

Hey, Jim, “It’s Up To You.”

And, it’s About Time for me to get back to the story.

But, first, I’d like to acknowledge that everybody is an actor in some shape or form.

Every rock band carries some sort of shtick. Each act has a routine. Bands do this to identify with their (potential) audience. Bands need a calling card in order to survive in the music industry.

That’s the music industry in a nutshell. And, this is I in a nutshell.

By now, you should know that there’s “Something Wrong With Me.” Let me break it down for you:

See, Pennywise are a band that stress the importance of free will. The Bombpops brush on modern sociology. The Story So Far (TSSF) write break-up songs. And, Joyce Manor write love songs.

Don’t be fooled, either. Joyce Manor—they’re just the flavor of last week. And Pennywise, they’re the flavor of this week. And, TSSF will be the flavor of the week in mid-December.

And, “Flavor Of The Weak” is a tremendous song, one that was written and composed by American Hi-Fi circa 2001.

“I wish that I could make her see” that I’m just an actor. I’m not stoned, and I don’t play Nintendo. I’m just playing the part for which I get paid.

Sometimes I drive a Lincoln Navigator at work. The other day, in fact, I drove an elderly lady to the local retirement community. I told her, “I’ll take you in the hotel car. It’s a Lincoln Navigator. Literally, I’m your navigator.”

That’s right, folks. I’m kind of like Matthew McConaughey on those cheesy commercials. Oh, what I would do to fall backward into a pool (of money).

But, I digress.

Lately, I’m rushing to get things done. And, my circadian rhythm is out of whack, so to speak. Some days I work early, while others I work late. Oftentimes I work “back-to-back” shifts.

Guests look at me in astonishment (because I helped them the prior night). In the morning, they ask, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

See, when someone says, “You look tired,” it’s really just a nice way of saying, “You look like shit. You should get some rest.”

I typically claim that “I live at the hotel.”

So it goes.

On November 23rd, a large portion of hotel patrons donned their “Sunday Best.” Technically, they donned their “Thursday Best.” It was Thanksgiving Day, after all. Meanwhile, I looked like shit. I felt fine, though. That’s because I swore that I’d Never [Be] Hungover Again.

Tips were considerably lower on Thanksgiving Day, relative to years past. And, on a typical weekend, I’d be running around frantically. This is all too real, folks. I’m like George Costanza, but I don’t want to be like George Costanza.

Last weekend, however, was a change of pace. Work was slow; it was a “Constant Nothing.” And, it was “Wear[ing] me out.”

Meanwhile, Bitcoin displayed unprecedented growth. Since the holiday weekend, more than 300,000 accounts have been generated on Coinbase.

On Black Friday, I bought two pairs of black cotton Dockers, alongside a pair of black work shoes. Then, at work, I lined up six white cars in a row (because I could).

Sunday was a dud, but somehow I hit the century mark. By Tuesday, Bitcoin hit 10k. By Wednesday morning, Bitcoin hovered around 11k. Then the market had a setback.

Look, it’s all speculation at this point. It’s just supply and demand. It’s hype. It’s like a stock tip. Some say, “there’s potential in this technology,” while others are waiting for the “The Greatest Fall of All Time.” It’s like the “Moops versus the Moors.” When will the bubble burst?

At the end of the day, how much “Risk” can you stomach?

And, at the end of the day, I “wanna disconnect.” Truth be told, it’s just an okay Pennywise song from The Fuse, which is just an okay Pennywise album. But it helps to illustrate the following point.

I usually watch a movie at the end of the day to unwind. Over the past week, I watched two classic flicks. First, I watched The Lawnmower Man. Then, I watched Splash. Bear in mind, these are two very different films, but both managed to squeak their way into this story.

Jeff Fahey is the lawnmower man, Pierce Brosnan is the scientist, and that kid from Last Action Hero has a supporting role. It was made in 1992. It is more or less a modern take on Frankenstein. Still, I say that it is a glimpse of the future. Everything is online and nothing is secure.

Meanwhile, Splash is an American love story that stars Tom Hanks and Eugene Levy. Allen Bauer falls in love with “Madison,” a mermaid from Cape Cod. Then, Dr. Walter Kornbluth attempts to make a profit on the match made under the sea. Splash was a box office success in 1984. And, I must say, that I would have invested in the 1984 version of Daryl Hannah.

Three days ago, I bought .18 Bitcoin because it seemed to be making a splash.

Now, it seems that this Thanksgiving-themed chapter is a bit dated. Today is December 1. Turns out, I’m a day late and a Bitcoin short.

Likewise, it seems that all of the Joyce Manor records are too short. They always leave me wanting more.

So, let me finish by saying that blockchain technology “Still Can Be Great.”

And without further adieu, this is the “Last You Heard Of Me,”—that is—until the next episode.









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