BILLY, DON'T YOU LOSE MY NUMBER
The kid is not my son.
Thirteen days till APE. We fly out in eleven. One week later is tax time. To celebrate tax day, New Jersey bar- and restaurant-goers will be doubly punished by having their right to smoke revoked. No more smoking in the diner. No more smoking in the bar.
I'm thinking about this because I just don't utilize the smoking section at the diner nearly enough. I absofuckinglutely love writing in the diner. Dinnertime at the Brownstone is much slower than breakfast. You get yourself a table, order some food, power the brain, write, smoke, get some coffee, write more, smoke more, people are coming in and out for mild distraction, some snippets of overheard converstaion to help you remember what human voices sound like. It's a wonderful experience. And it all ends in three weeks.
I took a break from the tripotony of printing, cutting and stapling last night to go to the Brownstone. Their specialty is something like thirty different pancakes and waffles, but they make great Greek-diner burgers with seasoned curly fries. Set myself down, paper and pen in hand, a table away from where the family of owners sit at night. Brought out my Kaiju Jugoruma thumbs, ordered some food and lit up.
You just motor this way. Caffeine, protein and nicotine are just filling your head and bloodstream. It's all energy and stimulation. And there's no work to be done. This is the real secret. Yes. I can eat, drink and smoke while working at home. No problem. Thank-you, Democratic party I've supported my whole life. Thanks for pissing in my ear. I can do all my nasty little secret things at home. For now. But at the diner—at the DINER—I don't have to cook, I don't have to have every possible food on hand to sate my whims, I don't have to wait for delivery and then get up to get my food, I don't have the clutter of dirty dishes, I don't have to get up to refill my soda or coffee, I don't have to clean my ashtray, etc. I don't have to do anything but stuff my face with calories and drugs and work. There are no creative blocks, just raw information being created and unleashed.
Nonsmokers, the uncaffeinated and healthnuts will never understand this. Give us the above scenario and we can dust you. No human can compete with that sort of productivity machine.
Thirteen days till APE. We fly out in eleven. One week later is tax time. To celebrate tax day, New Jersey bar- and restaurant-goers will be doubly punished by having their right to smoke revoked. No more smoking in the diner. No more smoking in the bar.
I'm thinking about this because I just don't utilize the smoking section at the diner nearly enough. I absofuckinglutely love writing in the diner. Dinnertime at the Brownstone is much slower than breakfast. You get yourself a table, order some food, power the brain, write, smoke, get some coffee, write more, smoke more, people are coming in and out for mild distraction, some snippets of overheard converstaion to help you remember what human voices sound like. It's a wonderful experience. And it all ends in three weeks.
I took a break from the tripotony of printing, cutting and stapling last night to go to the Brownstone. Their specialty is something like thirty different pancakes and waffles, but they make great Greek-diner burgers with seasoned curly fries. Set myself down, paper and pen in hand, a table away from where the family of owners sit at night. Brought out my Kaiju Jugoruma thumbs, ordered some food and lit up.
You just motor this way. Caffeine, protein and nicotine are just filling your head and bloodstream. It's all energy and stimulation. And there's no work to be done. This is the real secret. Yes. I can eat, drink and smoke while working at home. No problem. Thank-you, Democratic party I've supported my whole life. Thanks for pissing in my ear. I can do all my nasty little secret things at home. For now. But at the diner—at the DINER—I don't have to cook, I don't have to have every possible food on hand to sate my whims, I don't have to wait for delivery and then get up to get my food, I don't have the clutter of dirty dishes, I don't have to get up to refill my soda or coffee, I don't have to clean my ashtray, etc. I don't have to do anything but stuff my face with calories and drugs and work. There are no creative blocks, just raw information being created and unleashed.
Nonsmokers, the uncaffeinated and healthnuts will never understand this. Give us the above scenario and we can dust you. No human can compete with that sort of productivity machine.
posted by Justin Fox at Monday, March 27, 2006
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