Impressions on a Saturday night

Throughout the week, through all the stress and the busyness, I take a moment out of the day to write down some details about the environment around me. I’ll be posting them here every Monday.

The phosphorescent shimmer of the rescued African rosewood bar top at Jerry’s–the way if feels as I glide my calloused hands to find with my fingertips the tiny grains and microscopic indentations and crevices; these instances that last forever: the scrapes and humaned imperfections which feed pure hunger into my heart.

The bourbon and whiskey and whisky and scotch bottles standing straight in desperate attention for me.

Laughter from a table behind me — a man’s like the high-toned barks of a monkey, a woman’s like a cackling witch at half-speed.

The moment the eyes catch sight of the drink menu the body slumps with eagerness.

The way my beer’s thin foamy top waddles when I bump my knee to cross my legs, its amber body wobbling in echo.

The thin A-shaped ceiling fan blades reflecting the beer-bottle chandelier’s creme-white glow.

American Oak Westland American Single Malt Whiskey…enough of you. But its stout, tall frame beckons me still, so…

Stacks of DVDs two feet high near the DVD player.

The popped collar of a middle-aged man.

As I slide my blue Chase Debit card to the bartender, the brunette girl next to me takes a sip of her cabernet sauvignon. Without a stutter in her conversation or showing a sour face, she rips a cocktail napkin of its corner and wraps her gum in it.

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