Archive for March, 2015

Single barista single handedly upsets entire coffee community

Posted in Uncategorized on March 16, 2015 by rogerhumanbeing

“I used to love speaking with him about the music he was playing. It’s just not the same experience anymore.” Says Marcy who dances at the exquisite dance company next door. On the other hand, Randy who scoops out bagels on 13th st has something nicer to say.

“I was always curious to talk with him, but now my curiosity burns like a fever. I can’t wait to scoop him a bagel one day hopefully. He can take all the time he wants making my cortado.”
The entire coffee community is ignited by this new decision made by the once shy barista. I have not been able to score an interview with the barista myself. The line was always there, but now with the picketing, bat wheedling characters, and hate mongering obstructed halo benders, who knew whiskers on a barista could cause such a stir? The good news is that all jibe aside, the beard appears to be favored. Keep your fingers crossed, I just may get an interview when the heat cools down!

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Just Like Heaven

Posted in Uncategorized on March 15, 2015 by rogerhumanbeing

You married him at a castle. You had Siouxsie hair at church. Your boy looked like Robert Smith. I used to look for you. It was 1988. I had long hair. I was trying to be a metal head. And then I saw Edward Scissorhands in the theater. And my heart was shattered. And then when I saw the two of you it mattered more. You shaved your head for the wedding. My dad was besides himself. I thought you were amazing. I can see your beautiful pale skin now. You wore a black wedding dress. It was the late 80’s. I grew my red Mohawk that hung to the side. I got called faggot everyday at school. You told me that you liked my hair. I’ve never forgotten. It meant everything to me. At school the punk girl with the hair in her face threw an upside down cross in my locker. I didn’t know how to love her. I hated church. I wanted to be driven around in a muscle car on fire. I hated sports. I hated everyone. I used to look for you at church. You said that you liked my punk hair. I’ve played and played drums. My mother told me the crushing news. You died of cancer. I think of you all the time. I can’t stop thinking of you. At first when I found out, it just went to some dark place that I used for information that was darkly vital. But I’ve never forgotten you. Your black wedding dress. Your gothness. So beautiful. I’ve been to Europe. I’ve toured the U.S. I think of you. I told you that I liked Peter Murphy too. I felt embarrassed. My kick drum was part of his “deep” tour. I kick the shit out of my kick drum. I make em all dance. Do you notice? Maybe you’re dancing somewhere. Just like heaven. I miss you.