There was a conversation at a bar between myself, my sister, P, and a stranger.

The stranger looked to be in his early 30's, in shape, long shaggy hair, with a graying goatee. He spoke of 'romance' at least twice, 'love' only once, 'misery' three times and 'chance'. He mentioned the word 'chance' at least seven times.

The conversation lasted at least 3 hours. It started off very awkward. The word 'potential' was used twenty three times, 'intelligent' forty one times, 'problem' sixteen times (not counting when the stranger kept shrieking about abuse), 'shot' fifty two times (roughly), california seven times (mostly by my sister), 'ego' nineteeen times, 'nostaliga' six times, 'existentialism' once (by P), 'suicide' four times, 'whiskey' atleast thirteen seperate times, 'Medusa' and 'Ulysses' once each, the 'mighty and powerfcul Eurylochus' once, 'philadelphia' forty two times (LOS ANGELES WAS NEVER MENTIONED), 'horror' 3 times, 'euphemism' once, and of course booze, beer, and chronic all were spoken atleast six times each. The conversation, which started off awkward, was by the end riveting. The words robbery, heist, nor burglary were never mentioned. Call it omerta, call it fear, call it pride.

But, the details of this conversation are of no importance. All that really matters is for one night we were the best of friends and we laughed, and we cried and we walked home together in the rain and the wind and all seemed like it should and could stay this way forever.

02/12/2009

Author's Note: inspired by Roberto Bolano

Posted on 02/13/2009
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