Madness of noise in the city, that is. We had summery days, summery afternoons. These always inspire people to make noise. Bring out those clattery motorcycles.
Recently I made a road trip for business. At one point a motorcycle came up behind us in the car. It was so quiet, my friend was surprised. I saw it coming, but didn’t hear it. Impressive. Unlike the clattery Harleys that sound precisely like an amplified version of the most disgusting and embarrassing farts I have ever had. I shouldn’t have to be reminded of those, although I could laugh at it, I suppose. But more likely I scratch my head as to how these people don’t recognize the fartiness of the bike clatter sounds they make! They cultivate these sounds. Perhaps they’re deaf, poor fellows.
Noise, one of the many human activities I hate. Things that are pointless and just annoying. Marijuana, the rancid farmed fish cooked and served in the divey places I go for comedy performances here in New West, overly loud music, smoking, waitresses dressed in tight skirts and cleavage hanging out, too many things. I don’t blame the waitresses. I blame the business and the culture in general. But, hey, at least I never had to work as a waitress. I could never accomplish the wardrobe and general style.
I felt sorry for the waitress tonight, run off her feet in that dive, pulling that tight skirt down, half her chest on view. Hopefully she got a lot of tips.
Enough! Too much.