Americana

I have talked about this before. about texas and my obsession with Americana. when i think of America as a foreign country i can handle it. when i think of myself as a visitor i can handle it. if you force me to identify, i will become depressed, withdrawn, sulky and bitchy. i hate my country for its self-consciousness. i hate it for its consumption. i hate it for its slovenliness. for its style-less largesse. for its sense of entitlement.

i visited the wretched and disgusting town of Houston over the weekend to see V. it was bad. my last night there we went to play pool at a place called the Seabrook Beach Club. horrible place. everything was painted as is if it were bamboo. fake plants. ugly bar furniture. bad lighting. bad music. too many t.v.s. the waitresses wore bikinis and chatted up ugly old men drinking miller lite and caressing their own paunches. a man and his son ordered crawfish that was served in an old plastic drink tray, dirty white. the boiled and salted little beings were ripped apart and sucked at and left with their heads and eyes and miniature claws. viscera and food. i felt like it was the set for a dating reality show. but uglier and without the quips and edits.

the waitress was a fucking bimbo. sorry. we asked her if she had Newcastle beer and she asked what that was. then we asked her what kind of beer she had and she said 'i don't know, i have only been here two weeks'. get your fucking head out of your bikini and figure it out. oh, america. land of the free, home of the fucking dim-witted. where did the message come from that it was good to be stupid? that it is an asset to be slow and spaced out? no wonder the VCTR saw a wealth here. wake-em up, a WAKE EM UP! WAKE EM UP! SCREAM IT! WAKE EM UP! fertile ground. so fertile. the flip side of enlightenment, it is here. the flip side of vision, it is here. the flip side of vigor, it is here. the flip side of elegance, it is here. the flip side of real, genuine unrelenting confidence it is here. my god, what a fertile land. it makes so much sense. what an opportunity.

why do i care about the waitress? why even form an opinion? because i have to pay attention to my world and talk to it, just like it talks to me.

i think V. might secretly admire this kind of obliviousness, thinking there is something profoundly pure and unadulterated about it all. where in reality, that is the complete opposite. there is something dark and really wretched about it all. it is not okay to perpetuate this kind of vague stupidity. why isn't it okay? because it just fucking ISN'T. what are the options otherwise?

i digressed.

drink up with me now and forget all about.............................................