an arcade that serves ten dollar beers

cottonface — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 19:43:54 +0000

There are these commercials for Dave and Busters, which is a restaurant/bar sort of place with pool tables and games and shit. The one here is enormous and I guess it’s a chain, but I don’t know how big a one. Big enough to have national commercials, though not big enough for them to be good. In them, there is a guy, different guy in each one, who is in some normal place, like his car or the store, and then he gets transported in his mind to an arcade that serves ten dollar beers. Apparently an arcade that serves ten dollar beers is a great place to be. The acting is big, their mouths wide open in insane shouting smiles and their eyes all big with the same. I understand commercials are shit sometimes, and it’s not the reason I bring it up, that these are kind of silly and lame. When I see the guy with his wild happiness, I started to wonder at his method. It’s possible that guy is a real actor and takes that shit real serious. All sorts of people wind up in commercials, even people who are too good for them. I don’t know that this guy is, and it might not be hard method, but it might be that while he’s running around grinning like an idiot and carrying on like he’s come to God’s arms, maybe he feels it for a minute. Maybe he gets so into the role or the moment or his own goofy head thinking on how ridiculous it is, so much so that the little curtain comes down and those feelings come rushing in from the fake side. He might have had a moment of pleasure or joy or enlightenment even greater than anyone but the handful of men that started a religion. Good for him, I guess. Too bad it’s from a Dave and Busters commercial. You can’t tell people that, at least not with the kind of weight you need to open the world’s eyes to the ecstacy of being so full of shit that you can’t help but to be happy sometimes, even most of the time. I could have gone to that church.

the leaves forget their place

cottonface — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 16:03:57 +0000

It’s true. Outside my house there are these dead leaves in the street. A lot of them. It’s odd, because it’s the middle of summer, but maybe the heat’s gotten to them and knocked them out. So there are a ton of little brown leaves just sitting there, being dead and looking nice and making crunching sounds when they can. Then a car will come by, fast, because people here are the kind who will drive fast down a house lined street. And as the car goes by, the leaves get all up and think about chasing the car and living like that, fast and flying through the air. People do it, too, like when some dude in a bar gets a normal person hyped on some ridiculous shot in March and the normal person forgets they’re normal and hops around and cheers even though he couldn’t name a single player who’s been on Arizona in the past twenty years. Ever, actually. The leaves did that, got up and cheered. Then they remembered that they were dead and their job was to lay there and look nice and make crunching sounds. Now they do that again, ten feet down the road where everything looks different and might be a flower there or a piece of some animal’s shit.

three quarters

an arcade that serves ten dollar beers

the leaves forget their place