An attractive statement

I don't have to spend much time walking around South Side to be reminded of how little intelligent life exists in this neighbourhood. Perhaps this is because it is polluted by bar patrons and hipsters striking poses while the real residents hide away in their apartments, but I swear that South Side is a soup of human scum...or at least it seems that way. What particularly bothers me is that this could be a cool district, were it not for the slime that leave their mark on the place over the weekend to barely get washed away during the course of the week. It's come to the point that, at the advanced age of 24, I would love nothing more than to see every loud, obnoxious and intoxicated college-age asshole hoping from bar to bar because their tiny pea-brains can't come up with some more constructive or worthwhile activity to simply drop dead at my feet. Seeing them twitch like an insect in their death throes would be pure frosting.

Restless, I went for a quick walk around South Side tonight. Usually this time on a Sunday, I'd be back in my apartment in the much better borough or Mt. Lebanon, where there are no screaming idiots stumbling out of bars (namely because were one to try and act in such a manner, the police would arrest him or her). However, I don't have to go to work tomorrow, and neither does joi_division, given the Memorial Day holiday. So, I'm staying at her place, like I usually do on the weekends, but for the duration of this extended weekend. It's not usually the case that we get to experience each other's nocturnal quirks from Sunday into Monday.

This afternoon, Joi and I stopped briefly by The Beehive for the opening of greywitch19's art exhibit there. It is rare that either one of us will go to The Beehive as we both hate the place. To me, it's just another tacky hipster hangout for the most part devoid of any real soul. They also sell shit coffee. I much prefer The Tuscany, located a block away or the Starbucks across the street. Regardless, I wanted to show support for my friend's artistic endeavours (which, I must say, are many cuts above the usual Beehive decor and are very much worth checking out). Joi and I didn't stay long; old ghosts were soon to breeze in and, while we'd taken a large leap by even setting foot into the despised coffeehouse, we had no intention of letting old poltergeists haunt us.

The bright point of the art display couldn't wash away the distain I felt for South Side as I walked it's uneven sidewalks tonight. It was the motorcycles that pissed me off the most tonight. I have the theory that anyone who rides a motorcycle has severe inadequacy issues. These dickheads roar through the streets, drawing attention to themselves as they ride with reckless disregard for the rules of the road or common sense. I see Pennsylvania's lack of helmet laws as a kind of Darwinian experiment...and every time I see some fuckhead cyclist riding without head protection, I pray that he gets into an accident which will throw him head-first into a concrete wall, splattering his non-functioning brain all over the place, taking him out of the gene pool and preventing him from being a source of noise pollution ever again. I have as much regard for bikers as I do for fat white men in SUVs with their cell phones grafted onto their doughy heads.

Last night Joi and I drove out to The Oaks, as they kicked off their annual Midnight Movie season with Spaceballs. The place was packed, much to our surprise, making it a good thing that we had gotten there as early as we had. It had been a while since we'd gone out so late and, honestly, it felt good to me to do so. Thankfully, it'll be happening fairly often this summer, as The Oaks has some great movies lined up for their Midnight series this year. Next week is Psycho.