Tonight I had a thing in DC -- and since driving to a metro station and riding the metro during rush hour aren't my favorite activities, I figured I'd head into DC several hours early and hang out for a bit. I think the last time I went into DC was before my ex broke things off and skipped town, so it felt a bit weird stepping off the metro and not seeing her leaning against a post in her sushi skirt or some stylish top hat or something. Also weird: the rows and rows of people all on their cell phones and all holding them basically the exact same way. I've seen that setup in movies and it's always struck me as artificial (though it makes for a nice visual), but holy shit people really do that.

Anyway, DC. I still enjoy the museums (today I mainly explored the African Art Museum; I don't recall ever having been there before; it was super neat and gave me things to ponder), but the bar scene... nope. Still seems to me like a bunch of kids all talking at the same time and trying to out-cool each other, which really means out-douche each other, and while that wasn't my scene even when I was 15 years younger it super-duper isn't my scene now. But it did make me regret not reviving an old practice I used to do, which was sit at bars and jot down random observations for potential inclusion in future stories. Like, tonight on my way out of the bar, I passed by these two women sitting in a booth, and one of them was just fucking sobbing her eyes out. Her whole face was wet and puffy like she'd been slapped with a sodden towel, and her mouth was barely open yet still somehow her teeth seemed to take up the entire space from her nostrils to her chin and still there was enough space for the black hole from which issued this pitiful wounded seal bellow. It was a really strange visual, like her various expressions were on a lenticular card held by someone with some serious wrist tremors.

And then in the midst of her wailing, the woman blubbered, "I know I'm a piece of shit." That is totally the kind of thing I'd have paused to jot down, because that's both the kind of random background detail I'd throw in for atmosphere and a story springboard all on its own. Like, I chose Option C, which was to mind my business and keep walking, but Options A and B also occurred to me. A) I might have politely inserted myself into the convo, offered to buy this woman a drink, and then said, "See? You're not a piece of shit. I don't buy drinks for pieces of shit." And B) -- which isn't a thing I'd ever do, especially since I've been on the receiving end of oh so many comments to that effect, but it'd make any future standup bits involving the incident that much more sincere -- again to insert myself into the convo, but here to say, "Yeah. You probably are," before giving a salute or a "womp-womp" sound effect and skipping wickedly (how does one skip wickedly?) out of the joint. Ah -- the road not taken! But a character could totally take that road in a story, and things could progress from there. Hmmmm.

But first I need to write poetry. G'night, folks!