Clown Shoes...All Weekend Long
2001-05-14 - 12:17 p.m.

before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

me(really stoned, but making it by) "No I don't really like the music. I should know, I'm in a band."

sarah:"Oh! Really? What do you play?"

me:"umm...well...have you ever seen the Mighty Mighty Bosstones?"

sarah:"Uhh....yeah."

me:"Y'know that guy, who dances around, and throws in some backing vocals everyonce in a while?"

sarah:"Uh-huh..."

me:"Yeah, that's me. In my band. "

sarah:"So you sing..."

me:"Well, yeah, but not so much. Its more about the dancing."

sarah:"Oh."

me:"And the clown shoes."

Friday night was weirdness. Roomie, C.J. and I went to a bar that had reopened near our usual hangouts, called the "Rhino Room", (for no particular reason), to see what was up.

I didn't want to go out at all this weekend. Next weekend will be big, and wisdom councils restraint before these things happen.

Then I came to the realization that I could stay home and smoke sensimilla, or go out and smoke sensimilla. Just screw one on and watch the animals at the zoo participate in their ritualized mating behavior.

So thinking, I didn't give a flying fuck at a rolling donut about anything. I wore my (now) tight grey Kafka T-shirt, tan coururoys, my watch, and my brown leather Doc Martens. I didn't want to put any effort, like showering, into my appearance to once again not find that for what I'm looking. I did, however take a few passing swipes at my hair with a hair brush.

And, oddly enough, then came the girls.

I started by talking to a girl who showed up with an acquaintance of ours. I didn't then think she was good looking, but I was bored, and pretty stoned at that point, and decided to fuck around.

sarah:"What shoes?"

me:"Clown shoes. Big, red, floppy."

sarah:"Oh"

me:"They say they draw more."

sarah:"Who?"

me:"The rest of the band. They say the shoes draw more people in to watch."

So I'm talking to Sarah. Pretty much babbling and free associating, and trying to ignore the pathetic muscian Howard, who's ruined an open mic set of mine in the past, when I said, "Sure, you can sit in and jam.", who's in the middle of releasing and promoting his new CD, which I'm sure must be awful.

sarah:"More people?"

me:"Yeah, but this is what I'm saying: Is this a wise career move?"

sarah:"Gosh, I don't know...I...uh-"

me:"-They squeak."

sarah:"What?"

me:"The shoes...the clown shoes? They squeak. Whenever I step, they squeak. "

And she laughed. I'm not really sure if she got it before that, but eventually, she did.

I got up and smoked some more reefer in the john.

When I came back, and sat down at the bar away from sarah, there was a chair open next to me.

And one after another, a series of young blonde girls sat and talked with me. One after another. They'd get a beer, and chat. For no particular reason that I could discern, other than maybe they were just learning the bar thing, and it was an easy way to talk to a guy. Sit down, buy a beer, and seemingly wait for my attention to turn to them.

I really have no idea how many girls I chatted up a bit, promoting our party next weekend. A lot. A hell of a lot. Roomie asked me about one in particular, and I had no recollection whatsoever of her.

What was really striking, is that they all had some basic resemblance to each other. Short, almost shoulder length blonde hair, mostly white tank tops, predominantly beige pants, and a stunning lack of personality or originality.

It was all wasted on me for a couple of reasons. I was so high, it was all blithe entertainment for me at that point. Also, I loved the attention, but none of them seemed to have the spark to command my attention.