Mirah
I love you
Should be renamed to barstool fantasies. For a man never has a greater fantasy then when he is perched high upon that bar stool telling the gentlemen of his future endeavers and his past conquests. The liquid courage gives him strength to ask the girl next door for a date and when she declines he orders another drink. And when she orders another drink she finally gives in to his advances, taking advantage of an opportunity that may have not been there before. Ah yes, the liquid courage filled with regrets in the morning as the girl next door awakes to gather her panties lying on the floor to sneak out the door.
She awakes only to find herself in the same bar the next night, playing the same song over and over again, and the same routine. Will it be different this time? Does she use the same place to tell of her future endeavers and previuos nights regrets? The same people listen to her and watch her do it again and again. This is the place we have all come. This is the place we watch each other do it again and again.
And we have another drink and debate the state of the world, only hoping that what we have to say on that very bar stool will make a difference in the world as we know it.
Or we venture on down to the cellar or the badlands or the mine field and escape, escape a world filled with doubts, a world filled with questions. And for a moment we forget these fears, and we forget these responsibilities to have another drink and escape into the abyss. For life without rest and play and fantasy is not life at all.
Life without pleasure is just pain.
She awakes only to find herself in the same bar the next night, playing the same song over and over again, and the same routine. Will it be different this time? Does she use the same place to tell of her future endeavers and previuos nights regrets? The same people listen to her and watch her do it again and again. This is the place we have all come. This is the place we watch each other do it again and again.
And we have another drink and debate the state of the world, only hoping that what we have to say on that very bar stool will make a difference in the world as we know it.
Or we venture on down to the cellar or the badlands or the mine field and escape, escape a world filled with doubts, a world filled with questions. And for a moment we forget these fears, and we forget these responsibilities to have another drink and escape into the abyss. For life without rest and play and fantasy is not life at all.
Life without pleasure is just pain.
