Simple Displeasures

Even the past simple pleasures I used to enjoy have become subject to analysis and disgust.  I walk into a local sports bar for food and drink and a source of comfort and warmth.  There is one pretty waitress walking around that was clearly hired for a purpose.  The young hipsters behind the bar make small talk with the customers eagerly waiting the right moment to ask, “Another round or some food?”  The multiple televisions display several NFL football games in progress.   The super chimps make a nice play and do their dance.  The drunken crowds packed into the stadiums yell and scream for their 60 minutes of fabricated vicarious purpose.  The people in the bar around me do the same.  The modern-day gladiators are our over paid heroes and role models.  Commercials flood the screens every fifteen minutes attempting to use humor or creativity to make their product appear needed or worth more than its cost.  And there I sit, becoming uncomfortable, cold, and disappointed in them and myself for being here.  But is getting cold and dark outside and I really don’t have any place to go.  I guess my only option is to return to the café next door and resume my second reading of Steppenwolf.

5 thoughts on “Simple Displeasures

  1. Tincup, I know just what you mean. It seems, with enough observation, almost any form of human interaction seems silly or banal. I sometimes find myself questioning everything — holidays, sports, clothing, stores, tv commercials — all with disgust and otherness, like I am not a part of it. But, of course, I am an irrevocable part of it. No matter how much I long to step away, pry myself apart. And these feelings of disgust are not constant. They come in waves and bouts. Some days I am completely fine in the real world, fine to laugh in it all, the silliness and trivialities. Other days I am the skeptic, other, and little else.

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