Set Keel to Breakers

Everyone on this boat is going to the same place. All of us waiting to arrive at the end of our journey, as short as it is. There are lovers, families, and loners here. I envy the ones that can sit idle and enjoy this moment with little on their minds. Everyone has something dogging them though, I guess its all how you handle it. As they say, there are a million stories in the naked city. My own situation is just a little light in the flood of spots that make up the approaching skyline. Goodnight.

Le Flâneur

The flâneur is that character who retains his individuality while all around are losing theirs and derives pleasure from his location within the crowd, but simultaneously regards it with contempt.
-Benjamin

I left work and went to the quiet place. I will not divulge the location of the quiet place as it is one of the only bars left in the city that you can smoke in. Its there that I generally sit in front of the big screen, drink beer, smoke, and eavesdrop on the varied snippets of conversation circulating with the stale air. I started to feel like a loser sitting all by myself, so I decided to go to the strip club.

In my past whenever I saw strippers it would always be mixed with afternoon beers and polite conversations on small town, small time criminal activity. We never really paid too much attention to the women on stage, except for the one or two minutes that was worth looking at. Which to me was when they were finished and getting dressed by the side of the stage. There was something vividly real about it, lonely, a moment of solitude in public view. We were not there for the strippers however, just the ambiance of a dark grimy bar in the sunlight of the afternoon.

Last night was different though. Last night I wanted to go somewhere where being alone was not an abnormality. So I went to a small club on the a popular area for such activities, I didn't sit at a table, I sat right up front. There are many names for it, everyone has one, but if you are going to see strippers this is where you should sit, allowing the tradgedy of loneliness a front row seat.

I sat down, my shoulders hunched forward, the lip of the stage at eye level. A show was just ending. She looked nice enough, good makeup, no plastic parts. I watched her get dressed as the house music came back on and conversation among patrons resumed.

The typically deep voiced announcer told us not to go anywhere, that more entertainment was on the way. I looked across the stage at the other members of my party. Only the tops of their faces were visible. There were a couple of sales types with golf shirts, and a young Asian kid with long bleach blonde bangs. An older gent with heavily creased brown leather shoes sat beside me. Our next dancer was cued and I was instantly disappointed when I heard the MC blaring about miss nude this, and miss nude that accolades. She bounced onto stage with some white sequined cowgirl number on. She danced way too fast, flinging her little body and hugely out of proportion breasts around the stage like a lawn sprinkler. She did this retarded routine that I guess some people find amusing. I do not. She took off her sequined cowboy hat and stuck it on one of the salesman's fat head. He loved it though, proceeding to sit through the entire show with the hat on. Then she went over to the Asian kid taking her chaps off and wrapping them up around his head so he looked like a nun. Then it was over to our end of the stage, where she gave the older fella beside me a lens cleaning, rubbing his glasses in a circular motion with her towel. I especially loved the cola stains on her pants. I left in protest before she took anything interesting off, my fellow audience members were in shock.


It was time to start home, but not without a stop at this fried chicken place at Carral and Hastings. It has to be one of the most vile places you could ever sit in and eat. I ordered a .70$ drumstick while some guy tried to sell me a thermos. The chicken is good though, and cheap. I don't know why I like this place.