Standing next to the homie Marge on the vast lawn full of Lana fanatics in flower crowns and Pepsi-Cola tee shirts I did not feel at home
Idk what it is but I’ve never liked Thomas Street Tavern. It was even listed on the itinerary of “Bars We Don’t Fuck With” one night when my roommate and I got drunk and devised a plot to attend all of the neighborhood bars we never go to.
All I wanted to do was tell some jokes at an open mic and look what I had to go through. I was running for my life.
It was probably 3:3o in the morning and I was wide-awake because of the acid. I was anxious to do something but nothing in particular. I was jittery, lively.
I’m 23-years-old going through a mid-life crisis. Well, not quite mid-life considering I’m convinced I have less than seven years left to live.
