Life in the Salt Mines

Rough couple of weeks... way too much work and not enough play but this is not to say that I have joined a monastery. It's not in my blood.

Friday the GF and I manage an evening out--in a local dive. It's a bonafide dive: the bartenders are surly and the interior desperately needs attention. This is also one of those wierd nights where the sum of the parts somehow isn't adding up. We've gone out to hear a favorite band and normally I would describe them as edgy, progressive, intelligent and defying categorization. Friday, however the lead singer has a badly done Elvis look and he is strutting as if he really is a rock star. You know the look and the type: spandex, long hair that keeps beat to riffs that were popular in the late 70's. The problem is that this guy is dumpy, balding and in polyester. I suppose that could be a new look--a new trend but I/we aren't ready for it yet... We went-- to listen. Now I need to close my eyes and I am even embarrassed for this new "persona" middle-aged wanna be rock star. Bring on the groupies!

Groupies are not neccessarily a bad thing--as long as we are all clear about what is at stake. This also assumes a person, regardless of how shallow or gullible, is "disposable". Anyways, the bartender seems to have found a fan, a "groupie" or at least a young woman who is more than willing to bend low very low over the bar and to flirt as long as the drinks keep coming. She is attractive, albeit a little plump and wearing something that makes her look pregnant. Am I getting that old? Is that the ultimate in kink--sex with a woman who is 6 months pregnant or just another bad fashion choice? Bartender--a drink for the young woman in the circus outfit...

I'm rambling: so far none of this is truly out of place--and I have yet to meet a bartender who has taken a vow of celibacy. People dress badly and go out in public dressed that way--and Taipei is the ultimate in bad fashion choices but more on that at another time.

This is where it gets wierder though. The young woman is getting sloppy drunk. Are we surprised? The bartender has been pouring doubles and what might even be triples...gin and tonics--and somehow he is upset that this young thing can't hold her liquor? Wait-- is the real problem that, despite the fact she is reeling stupidly drunk, she still doesn't find him attractive?

All this ties together because I have been thinking about and admiring breasts for the better part of two weeks. It must be the sudden turn in the weather. Breasts are these amazing things: the shapes and the variety absolutely fascinates me: things like the color of a nipple or the ratio of the size of the nipple to a breast but I digress. This young woman was wearing a very low cut blouse that she used to advantage... Silly man--that bartender--but then again it wasn't his liquor that he was giving away.

So I end up in Los Angeles. I have a love hate relationship with Los Angeles. I go there because I have to and yet I can't help but admire all those things that are so wonderfully shallow about Los Angeles. Small doses of "shallow" are perfectly acceptable in my world. This too is also the sign of a graying boomer: I can't help but appreciate how few garments most of the young women are wearing. Were I to paint clothes on a nubile body, they would not be anymore revealing of the form underneath and the challenge is to not gawk or drool. Interestingly enough, doors are not slammed in my face. I must have some sort of moxy or "boomer cool" that keeps the young ones paying attention...