[[groovy musics: ]]

2:28 a.m. // 15 October 2005

So there's this bar that opened up on our block, just around the corner. D. and I went there when it first opened, to see what the food was like and to see what they'd done to the building. It's a two-decker older building that used to be painted a light cyan color; the first time I came to Denton, I took a photo of it. What they did was paint it industrial gray and turn the inside into what comes off as a very slick and big-city bar, with flat-screen TVs at all of the tables and female wait staff wearing suspenders and short shorts.

This all attracts a clientele that is very different from the type of people I am normally used to.

It's like a club was opened up by the fratboys who lived next door to us (the neigh-brahs) and threw a few rip-roaring parties before they were evicted because they couldn't come up with the second month's rent.

I don't like these kinds of people. They are noisy and boisterous, they enjoy their drinking, and they park in the parking lots right outside our windows, and leave their empties and their cigarette packs and their fast-food waste outside my building.

Yet I can't stop spying on them when closing time rolls around. They are endlessly fascinating because it's sociology right outside my window. Last week there was a fight on the corner, and it was the first time I ever called 911 and it made me ultra nervous. Just now, I saw one SUV ram another SUV because it wasn't leaving the parking lot fast enough.

These are adults? Is this what American adulthood has come to?

Tonight we watched a documentary, Punk: Attitude, while I baked a ginger-pear-pecan crisp. I didn't have enough fruit so it's like a 50-50 fruit-crisp ratio; also I put a ton of sugar in it. wow it's good.

Until tonight, I had forgotten about this exchange I had in June with a cashier at a natural food market on Haight, when I was making an impulse purchase of black Mission figs:

CASHIER: That'll be $3.11.
[I pay, but she gives me a little too much change.]
ME: Oh here, you can have your nickel back. [Beat.] Oh no, I can't believe we just said the names of two really bad bands.


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