19 May Waiting For Something Bad Compared To Patient For Something Good, Yo: when you look forward to what comes next or pleasure over problems, yo. #PRBLMS
“I can’t wait for my grilled cheese sandwich to arrive, yo”, Bilta replies as he smiles, “something about oozin’ Mozzarella on fresh toasted sourdough with basil leaves, tomotoe slices and Thousand Island dressin’ makes me giddy with excitement, yo.”
“You sound so gay, Bilta, yo”, I reply as I roll my eyes, “please, never say that to me, in public or where it can be overhead in polite conversation or seedy-underground bars where people drink warm beer and peel the labels and talk of lost love in years past and the hauntin’ feeling of looking for the missing when it is out of hatred, yo. When your problems refer to the person of the past and not the one that looks at you in the mirror, yo. When your life is a result of those people in your life, near, far or dissappeared or the ones that you curse in quiet mutters under your breath in places that people don’t speak but make glaring eye contact with the occasional stranger that stumbles in unaccounted for to get drunk to celebrate or get a shot of something strong to forget the problems of the day in a place where there name or face is not known, yo.”
“I have no clue what you are talkin’ about, yo”, he replies as he nervously turns his head to look out the window in the café by the beach, “one does not say unpleasantries without expectin’ ideas to be placed in others heads, yo. I suspect that you are not tellin’ small talk to me but instead implantin’ ideas into my head to be executed at a later date called half past never going’ to happen, yo. Justification for droppin’ untruths on those that you don’t like is merely rumors and planted gossip by a low-life to steer the crowd or herd in another direction, yo. Run fast but make sure that the direction is correct, yo. You can have the fastest car but do the Miracle Mile in reverse and the time won’t matter, at all, yo. You can have a 0-60 time of 0.5nanoseconds but qualifiying for the Olympics, like Jesses Owens, requires
“Why are you talking to me, yo”, I reply as I take a sip of coffee, “it’s a wonderful story for hot chocolate and roasting nuts over the open fire while Santa comes to fill your stocking, yo.”
“I forgot that tomorrow is Christmas, yo”, he replies as he turns his head back to me, “miles that I’ve travelled but yet still not to the department store to pick up gifts and toys for people in my life that I love, yo.”
“I don’t love anyone, yo”, I respond as I take another sip of my coffee.
“You hate everyone, yo”, he replies as he shrugs, “the opposite and solo other emotion besides love is hate like the only counter-act to anger is warmth, yo.”
“Cold, yo”, I respond as I look out the window to see the 25 surfers in the water waiting their turn for the next swell to rool in and then the mad dash to see who catches a wave and who catches a fist in the mouth for cutting off the person next to you, yo.
I sip my coffee and swirl around the cup as the ice cubes clatter, yo.
“Cold like my coffee, yo”, I continue speaking as I turn my head back to him, “when you are in the line of work that angers people, keep your drinks chilled, yo.”