Friday, June 20th 12:05p.m.
You introduce me to John Scribe.
I knew a Scribe once but his first name was Mr, and his best friend was also Mr, Mr West, and they used to spend their lunch hour in the shared office between their Jr. High science classrooms and of course we all knew they were having sex, only with their belly buttons. Because Mr. Scribe’s belly button was a huge projectile, and we didn’t really fully understand anal sex yet.
John plays the violin and he is very good. And so is the singer in his band. And when I call the washboard player by name he doesn’t pretend he already knows me, which I appreciate. They are a very good band playing at this stupid bar with the TV noise still loud enough but they are playing pop covers despite themselves, because the crowd loves it.
Give us more John Mayer covers! the crowd screams.
Oh, yes, yes, just like that!
And so I am listening to the best rock singer in Oklahoma (he started smoking when he was a kid so his voice could be that particular shade of gruff) sing “waiting on the world to change” and staring at the shiny television set and the weather channel is playing and I’m here to escape from a whole day of writing about climate change and fossil fuel extraction except now I’m watching ice caps melt on television and listening to John Scribe play John Mayer on fiddle and I have to leave.
I walk down the street to a shitty dive bar where 5 angry looking super-masculine punks are listening to some thrash metal, and it is good, really good. And I let the thrash metal harden a little bit of the soft spots that just got touched by those fucking ice caps and for a minute everything is okay. But I didn’t pay the cover and I don’t have $5 and so the cute bartender apologetically asks me to leave, looking over his shoulder at his boss.
Spite your boss! is the thing I yell in my head as I leave, but we never yell that one out loud.
And as I walk home in the rain through the field full of chiggers I notice the sprinklers are on and they’re spraying the water from those polar ice caps from TV and the thrash band is playing Coldplay or some shit and the crowd goes wild. Nothing makes sense. Everything is normal. I’m going to drown in these stupid redundant sprinklers.
Based on a true story