I remember Jeff Buckley once describing the end of a long solo gig as being similar to an athlete at the end of a gruelling game of (what these Americans call) football. Something about how the exhaustion motivates totally unique and inspired maneuvers, twists and turns and how only at the end of a long stint on stage did he feel his best isolated moments of musical expression and genius occur.
I don't know about this.
Why romanticize being tired?
Right now, I'm beat. It's been a long day. I've worked hard and I'm all spent up. Simple, natural, wholly uninspired and very unspectacular. There's no heightened level of consciousness. In fact, if anything, I'm simmering in a heightened state of sarcasm. Yes, i know what you're thinking: " Is that really possible?? You, more sarcastic??"
Well it is - deal with it.
Today, like all Sunday Brunch shifts, we opened at 11. That's 11am. That's 11am, Sunday morning, That's 11am, Sunday morning, in Manhattan where so many of our customers don't live. Ok?
Now these are all key points to realise and keep in mind when i tell you that this morning, at 11am, in Manhattan, on a Sunday, there were at least 20 people lined up on the street waiting for us to open. This is not unique - it happens every Sunday (at 11am, etc.). They arrive as early as 45 minutes before we open (that's 10:15am for those of you keeping score at home) and just wait. Mindless lemmings all, not drinking, not eating, not talking much - just standing and waiting.
I think this raises a question....
In order to arrive early enough to stand out on the street (in essence, locked out), they have to awake early enough to at the very least; take in a shower, get dressed (although so many look like very little time and effort have gone into either of those endeavors), and traverse one hell of a densely populated metropolis. This means, and mind you I am no mathematician, they would be getting out of bed at, probably, 8am. On a Sunday morning. Therefore, and i know I'm just hypothesizing here, one would not be totally insane to assume that there may be an alarm involved somewhere in this whole process. You know, something they set consciously the night before to arrest whatever deep slumber and rest their bodies may be experiencing.
So.....here's my question
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE, SETTING AN ALARM ON A SUNDAY MORNING, ONE OF ONLY TWO DAYS A WEEK YOU DON'T HAVE TO SET AN ALARM, IN ORDER TO GET UP AND TRAVEL INTO MANHATTAN IN ORDER TO HAVE BRUNCH?????
WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR STORY????
IS YOUR LIFE THAT VOID????
AND WHAT THE FUCK IS POACHED EGGS, COOKED ALL THE WAY THROUGH AND NOT RUNNY, BUT ALSO NOT HARD???
ARE YOU MAD AND STUPID, OR JUST ONE OR THE OTHER?
As i was saying, exhaustion really just seems to bring out the worst, not the best in me.
