Sunday, September 18, 2005
Middle-Aged Children will Reach APF
Today after work I went to A-town’s very own Pho 79. Upon entering the building of such fine a fine eatery my girlfriend and I saw the familiar face of our soon to be waiter. It is customary to see familiar faces of workers at an establishment one frequents but what put a spin on our encounter was the fact we usually go to the one closer to our house on Federal. We are regulars to the Denver Pho 79 as we try to eat their at least once a week. So as our waiter brings us to our table he sort of chuckles at the sight of seeing us in Aurora. He leaves and my girlfriend feeds me her compelling thesis that our waiter’s laughs were induced by us plotting not act like we are Pho addicts by rotating our overly frequent visits between the Denver and Aurora store. I acknowledge the idea with a nod and direct her attention to the ambiance around us. As our waiter returned my girlfriend tried to make small talk in some unneeded but ever-present insecure manifestation of the situation by asking him how to pronounce coffee on the menu. Our waiter replied in his thick Asian accent, “Coffee.” I seem to live my life in this constant low nagging paranoid state but these transpired moments seemed not have phased my mood’s natural ego clinging disposition into one of self despairing uncomfortable-ness. As I reflect upon this idea I feel very old due to this monumental shift of interpretation of reality at the ripe young age of 24. I sort of have to laugh as I type this because my thoughts are diverted to that stereotypical older generalization of a man. You know the guy who farts out loud and does it out of some philosophical, accredited percepts due to his established, unabashed and finely embedded position he has on life. I mean come on now!!! It’s not like the guy is gonna score with some hot chick in the near future and he knows this. When a man reaches this notion I think he attains some spiritual level of detachment to life. I also think man incurs a level of fearless with age that comes from the cliché idea that the older a person gets the more mature he becomes. This explains the common phenomenon we as a society encounter when driving by bus stops. At every other bus haven we see some middle age, bifocal rendering, hair thinning male with his finger so proudly lodged up his nose that he serves the un-championed platitude of “Digging for gold” to a tee. Face it, the more mature we become the more childlike we become to approaching the simple conventions of this world. Today in the laboratory at work I lit the fire casket from my ass like I was a burning oil well set to fire during this useless war in Iraq (not to get overly political I am just saying war in general is useless and I wish it was never an option for any nation at anytime.) Just as was topping off my piss spree at the urinal a co-worker of mine named Curt walks into the bathroom. He sees me occupying the one and only urinal so he bides his time washing his hands until I finish. He was overwhelmingly greeted by the unmerciful excursion from my gaseous bowls which had impregnated the air, that he felt the need to make some half-assed and now forgotten remark about the rancid stench. My reply was nothing more than a delightful acceptance speech as the owner to the unworldly smell to which my passionate words were not met with acclaim. Reflecting on this incident I realize that the affirmation to such a taboo social situation is not like the self I once knew. I would usually be insecure and overly embarrassed by such happenings. I would like to attribute my sudden evolution in non-embarrassment to the esteemed characteristic of maturity. Oh yes I am finally growing up…but I realize I am not there yet because I don’t quite posses the godly power that I would like to call, “Apathetic Public Flatulation.” As once a great king had the power to pull the sword from the stone. I have yet to feel comfortable pulling the gas in the public…for now one can only dream of the day.
Today after work I went to A-town’s very own Pho 79. Upon entering the building of such fine a fine eatery my girlfriend and I saw the familiar face of our soon to be waiter. It is customary to see familiar faces of workers at an establishment one frequents but what put a spin on our encounter was the fact we usually go to the one closer to our house on Federal. We are regulars to the Denver Pho 79 as we try to eat their at least once a week. So as our waiter brings us to our table he sort of chuckles at the sight of seeing us in Aurora. He leaves and my girlfriend feeds me her compelling thesis that our waiter’s laughs were induced by us plotting not act like we are Pho addicts by rotating our overly frequent visits between the Denver and Aurora store. I acknowledge the idea with a nod and direct her attention to the ambiance around us. As our waiter returned my girlfriend tried to make small talk in some unneeded but ever-present insecure manifestation of the situation by asking him how to pronounce coffee on the menu. Our waiter replied in his thick Asian accent, “Coffee.” I seem to live my life in this constant low nagging paranoid state but these transpired moments seemed not have phased my mood’s natural ego clinging disposition into one of self despairing uncomfortable-ness. As I reflect upon this idea I feel very old due to this monumental shift of interpretation of reality at the ripe young age of 24. I sort of have to laugh as I type this because my thoughts are diverted to that stereotypical older generalization of a man. You know the guy who farts out loud and does it out of some philosophical, accredited percepts due to his established, unabashed and finely embedded position he has on life. I mean come on now!!! It’s not like the guy is gonna score with some hot chick in the near future and he knows this. When a man reaches this notion I think he attains some spiritual level of detachment to life. I also think man incurs a level of fearless with age that comes from the cliché idea that the older a person gets the more mature he becomes. This explains the common phenomenon we as a society encounter when driving by bus stops. At every other bus haven we see some middle age, bifocal rendering, hair thinning male with his finger so proudly lodged up his nose that he serves the un-championed platitude of “Digging for gold” to a tee. Face it, the more mature we become the more childlike we become to approaching the simple conventions of this world. Today in the laboratory at work I lit the fire casket from my ass like I was a burning oil well set to fire during this useless war in Iraq (not to get overly political I am just saying war in general is useless and I wish it was never an option for any nation at anytime.) Just as was topping off my piss spree at the urinal a co-worker of mine named Curt walks into the bathroom. He sees me occupying the one and only urinal so he bides his time washing his hands until I finish. He was overwhelmingly greeted by the unmerciful excursion from my gaseous bowls which had impregnated the air, that he felt the need to make some half-assed and now forgotten remark about the rancid stench. My reply was nothing more than a delightful acceptance speech as the owner to the unworldly smell to which my passionate words were not met with acclaim. Reflecting on this incident I realize that the affirmation to such a taboo social situation is not like the self I once knew. I would usually be insecure and overly embarrassed by such happenings. I would like to attribute my sudden evolution in non-embarrassment to the esteemed characteristic of maturity. Oh yes I am finally growing up…but I realize I am not there yet because I don’t quite posses the godly power that I would like to call, “Apathetic Public Flatulation.” As once a great king had the power to pull the sword from the stone. I have yet to feel comfortable pulling the gas in the public…for now one can only dream of the day.
# posted by Nick D @ 1:06 AM 
