Arf Arf 24 October 1998

Once a year, there is a magical night for barflies across America. A night for reflection on those who have gone before us, those who are yet to come, and those who are really cute but seem to have boyfriends. Well, actually, that last bit applies to almost any night, but the rest of it, no no. This night has many different names in different cultures. We like to speak of it as "End Of Daylight-Savings-Time Night." The night when The Great Bartender appears and grants us all a magical extra hour, turning the evil 2 AM deadline into the much more friendly hour of 1 AM, with its promise of greater joy, unlikely but possible social connection, and almost certain further consumption of alcohol.

Tonight is that special night. It would be almost blasphemous to try to describe it in detail, but more to the point, it's nearly impossible as I have no idea what I'm talking about.

There was this girl on the bus from Fillmore & Geary back to my ant trail part of town this afternoon who had the most extraordinary blue eyes. I wondered if they were really just contact lenses, but I couldn't think of any acceptable way to ask. So I'll just take them as real. Especially since the only reason I was on the bus in the first place was because of a sin of complacency on my part.

You see, I had arrived about an hour early for the twilight discount showing of Ronin, the new John Frankenheimer Hong-Kong-like movie starring Robert DeNiro, and I almost went in to buy my ticket ahead of time, and then thought, "Oh, what, this movie's been here for weeks, like it's gonna sell out? Please. Don't be a nerd." So I just went to have dinner at the nearby-through-no-accident Burger King instead. Naturally, when I went to go get a ticket closer to show time, it had in fact sold out. Just what I get for trying not to seem nerdy & foolish. I am nerdy & foolish. Why pretend?

In any case, I'm sure there's a deep moral lesson available here, but I'm just going to have to hope I can watch it later on cable, because for the moment, I'm just typing and it's all a great blur punctuated by poodle yappings. Er, or something like that. I suppose you'd have to be here to understand what I mean, and honestly, that's a rather high price for a meager reward.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep. © 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.