What Is The Moral Of A Story Without Morals?
Let me start off by saying I’m now critically acclaimed:
Bonnie Dortch Moskowitz wrote at 10:12pm
I enjoyed reading your blog!!!!!!!!!exclamation point
The last two days have been endless trips to and from Manhattan with sleep scattered throughout. Friday was Ali’s Birthday party in the city (I suppose she gets a shoutout because she’s probably the biggest fan of this. I’m constantly alerted to her “reblog”-ing things but i’m not entirely sure what that means) The party consisted of constant confessions of manlove between old friends. (I originally chose the word ”gushings” over “confessions” but had troubling swallowing the image that “gushings of manlove conjured.” “Swallowing” however will stay.) The party gave way to angst, tension, threats of removing shoes, removal of said shoes, at times a sense of imminent disaster, and the rest of the events that normally accompany a 20 year old girls birthday. The night was a check plus, even though it ended with an hour of online self reflection and exchange of personal fears.
Following the AIM gab session I retired to bed to find Ginger, the matriarch cat of the house, occupying my pillow. I removed her from her throne and laid down. She was not so contented. Ginger’s night time quirk is that she likes sleeping under the blankets with humans. I was full of Guinness and doubts about my future and just wanted to sleep, which is difficult when a cat is attempting to claw her way under the covers. There’s no winning scenario here. If I let her under I become unable to move around in my bed for fear of crushing her, and if I ignore her she may never stop. I hold up the blanket to let her under, only for her to crawl in with great trepidation over the course of the next five minutes. Once she’s finally under I drop the covers, she bugs out and scurries down to the floor and out of the room. Great.
I sleep from 4:30 to around 3:00, waking up confused and drowsy. I hurry to my TV to see what I missed of the early football games, only to learn it’s Saturday.
By 5:30 I was back on the LIRR for sake bombing with camp friends. Two things I want to touch on. One, a cheeseburger at the TGIFridays in Times Square will run you $20. Two, underage drinking, and I don’t mean college kids under 21, or HS Seniors thinking they’re cool, I mean underclassmen in High School, is messed up.
We’re aware of the sketchiest sushi joint in Manhattan that allows anyone with a pulse to drink regardless of age. The sign on the street just says “Closed” after 8:30 and after traveling down a dimly lit hallway and up a narrow flight of stairs the entrance becomes visible. The door has two signs, the name of the place and “Air Conditioned.” This gives way to a 15x20 room filled with chairs, tables, broken dreams, and lost potential. We’ve always been the oldest people there because anyone over 18 is more creative in finding ways to drink. This place just appeals to the questionable ethics, and love of debauchery in all of us.
As we sat tonight one kid stood out to us (even though he could barely stand). He couldnt be more than five feet tall, and looked as though he was still a few years off from getting hair in new places. We watched him stumble back and forth from the bathroom with glassy eyes, with a little amusement and a little depression. He stood in the middle of the vice den with his back to us, and turned back around with a cigarette in his mouth. It’s at that point we lost it. We had to confront this young man. Fudge bummed a bogey off peewee and we got his name. Thank you facebook.
Thank you little Zachary S.
Our exodous was not without comedy:
(Two very drunk, very young girls come up to us. One has writing all over her arms.)
Girls: Hey what’s going on!
Nate: You’re too young for us.
Fudge: How old are you?
Girls: 16. (Pointing to her arms) Look at all the friends I made tonight.
Jesse: (As we’re leaving) Come back when you get your period!
I’ve tried to think of a moral to this story, but I can’t, and it makes sense that a story with no morals ends on a joke about menstration.
