what comes after late capitalism?

first off, is dyke or dike or diek, the old asian bartender at the cove, still slinging drinks there? what about the middle aged guy who never smiles and looks like mike scoscia? if the city didn't have big shoulders, would you really care?

secondly, i went to a bar appended onto a laundromat last night, which i've never done and to be honest plan on making a central part of my hygienic routine until i sack up and buy a washer dryer combo. at this establishment, i noticed three people who had t-shirts advertising the establishment itself. does this qualify as solipsism, or simply three individuals paying respectful homage to a great establishment that they happen to frequent, exlusively?

at this place, i overheard two women in an argument which culminated with: "yeah i read your fucking christmas card and it's sure nice to hear about your kid getting into college, but i expected you to say something about your loser ass husband going to the clink [i almost fell out of my chair at that] and you coming down here drowning your sorrows in old mil light." turns out the two women were sisters who rarely see each other despite living in the same town. i stopped eavesdropping for fear of pissing myself. hardass working class women dont front, and i didn't want to soil their authenticity with my agitprop sympathies.


i heard some jazz yesterday. realizing that jazz used to be the musical equivalent of a raised fist for the beatniks and their followers made me appreciate how intractable the past is. not too get all oratorical, but i just don't get jazz as liberating or expressing the restless energy and ambivalence to the rat race that Kerouac and the boys seemed to label it. i guess i dont get them either so no reason to think i could understand historic subcultural thoughts on a once subversive musical genre now solely propagated by public radio.

i'm off to drink guinness in an establishment owned by ukrainians and built under a main street in my town. they are big fans of the orange party, and to that end, regret the recent poisoning of the pock-marked faced guy. it reminds me of a place in prague that was originally a bomb shelter. mostly because of people speaking languages i dont' understand.