Shopping. It's A Waste of Time

           I need new pants. I'm bored with my Dickies and Levis. I've been wearing Dickies and Levis for years and I need a change. I used to buy suit pants from thrift stores, but I stopped doing that for some reason. I think I wanted new pants, not used pants. 
           I typed in cool men's pants into the inter-webs and a pair of pants that looked like the American flag popped up. They were called Ulysses S. Pants. Ha! There was another picture next to it of a man wearing pants with a multi-colored diamond pattern on them, like what the Joker would wear, or a clown. Oh boy. 
           I typed in "chinos," and the pants that came up were dorky looking. Any old fool would wear those pants. When I typed in "khaki," it was no better. Geez, men's pants suck. I gave up. 
           The pants I want will magically appear one day, like all good things in my life. I'm going to wait it out. Shopping. It's a waste of time.

Watch Where You're Walking

           
            I went to a show. A friend of mine was playing a short set. I stepped up to the bar to order a drink, but the bartender didn't have it together and it was taking a long time. A bartender who's not hustling, pointing fingers, leaning in to take orders, is bad for business.
            I got to talking to a modern day settler, one of those bearded civil war types, while I waited to order. He seemed nice enough. It turns out a little while later he mistakenly bumped in to my shoulder. He was a short guy and looked up at me with his small eyes and beard. He said he was sorry and moved on.
            A little while later I was in the restroom. I'd just washed my hands and was moving toward the door, when it kicked open and stopped me in my tracks. The door hit me on the shoulder. It was the bearded settler again. "Oh, sorry," he said.
            "No problem," I said.
            I was standing watching the band when another guy bumped into me. He gave me the watch where you're going look. Fool. I'm standing, you're walking. Some people.
            Not long after that I was talking to a friend, when I felt somebody bump into my shoulder again. I turned around to see who it was. It was the bearded settler. He shot me his small eye surprised look, "Oh, sorry," he said.
             "No, problem," I said. 
             If he only knew what I thinking, which was something to the effect of watch where you're going you clumsy settler!!!

You're Going To Like It

         
            I've realized that it's easier to get likes in person than on Facebook. Now and again, I'll run into someone that I haven't seen in a while, and through the course of conversation they'll mention to me that they really like my blog.
            I'll check the scoreboard in my head and think to myself, if you like my blog so much, why haven't you liked it on Facebook?
            This has happened to me more than once and some of the people were family and friends. So I got to thinking. What's the big deal? Why are people being chintzy with their likes?
            I'll admit I have a like standard myself, so I understand. I have a no like selfie policy. You have to do more than take a picture of yourself to get a like from me. There are some exceptions of course, but generally speaking I stick to my guns. After all you can't like everything, even if you like what you don't like. 
           
             

Proprietor #10

            I saw the proprietor yesterday. I walked out of his restaurant shaking my head. I had no idea what we talked about. It started out as a conversation about Barbara Eden, and the Munster beauties, and segued to the Lakers and the rebuilding process, but after that I got lost. The last thing I heard the proprietor say was "and then we'll shoot the missiles into the air," he gave a whistle that sounded like an incoming bomb and lifted his index finger in the air and twirled it downwards. 
            Things are getting strange between us I have to admit. When he takes my order and asks me what I'd like to drink. I'll tell him water. And when he brings the water, I'll ask if he warmed up the ice for me? When I order a burrito, I'll order it with spagitti sauce on top. It's really ranchera sauce, but that's how things are going between us. 
            When he brings me the water, he'll tell me that it's rainwater from the rusty pipes on the roof. I'll take a swig and say, ummm, tastes like Himalayan rainwater to me. 
             

Time The Meaning of Life

         

            I worry about people who are constantly searching for the meaning of life. I get it, it's a mystery. And knowing the answer to such an important question would solve a lot of problems. But the cruel reality of it is, nobody knows the meaning of life until they're dead. You won't know until you die is the answer.
            I'll say this, it's easy to become confused in a culture that idolizes the material. If it's not the material they're selling, it's magic. If you believe in their magic you will be given great rewards. 

            If I had to venture a guess as to what the meaning of life is, I'd have to say time is the meaning of life and how you use it. There's nothing more precious than time. People confuse money with meaning, but money without time is useless.

            How you spend your time is what it's about. Are you learning? Are you growing? Are you using your time wisely, or are you wasting it. 
            When you go to prison you're punished with time. When you die, they'll write on your tombstone the time you lived on earth. Life without time is certain death. I waste time, but I try not to. I've done more than my fair share. 

            

The Bud

         
            My singer friend was taking a break and as he walked by me to go outside, he stuck a bud in my face. I didn't know what he was doing at first, so I pulled my head away, and as I did that, he dropped the bud to the ground.
            Hey, I dropped the bud, he called out.
            A group of us started to look for it on the floor, but the room was dark and we couldn't find it.  
            The singer's sister who was visiting from New York, a lady in her seventies, said, does anybody have a cell phone? I thought about it. I was going to reach for my flip phone that was in my pocket, but I stopped short. I just couldn't do it. I was too embarrassed. 
            Nobody has a phone? The sister said incredulously. 
            She turned to me, you don't have a cell phone? 
            I shrugged my shoulders and raised my arms and said, no sorry.  

Keep Your Head Low

         
            I've noticed when I'm in public, say at a restaurant, and someone I know walks in, I'll pretend not to see them. I'll put my head down and read the menu, or look away so not to be seen. I've also noticed that people do the same thing to me.
            I'm not sure why I do it. I'll be the first to admit it's strange. Maybe it comes from having awkward conversations in the past. Or maybe its as simple as not wanting to be bothered, or not liking the person in real life.
            Whatever it is, it's weird. It takes a lot of energy to look invisible. It'd be easier just to wave and give the forced smile and then have the uncomfortable conversation at the restaurant table, where inevitably, somebody is standing and somebody is sitting, someone is looking up, and someone is looking down. 
            It's hard to say what's better. All I really want, is to eat in peace.