I just drank 15 Bud Lights, and took 7 Advil, I can�t fucking think straight right now, but anyway. So there I am the other night at the bowling alley. I went down by myself to bowl against myself (My normal personality won the first two strings, one of my other personalities won the other two, so I�m all even with myself now), and spent a few hours with a walkman blaring Jimi Hendrix Band of Gypsys in my ears and bowled. I like to go to the bowling alley and wear a walkman, and talk to myself so people will stay away from me. They know which lane to give me, and they know when I am coming, as I always call, and reserve 3 lanes against the wall, so no one can bowl within those lanes around me. Naturally I pay for them, I don�t have that much clout yet. So I�m at the bowling alley having finished a string, when my other personality (Charles) says to me �we should go get something to eat, I�m hungry�. Charles was correct, we were hungry. I suggested we bowl for a little while, and see if any girls show up that we can look at. Just as that one long ass sustained note in Machine Gun was traveling through my head, this woman walked in. Maybe in her thirties, maybe. I didn�t say she was old. I know how people think us people in our thirties are old. This is why girls don�t like me, because I am now in my thirties. I will never have sexual relations with anyone again. Fuck. They lied, that�s also why. So this woman comes in with striking raven like black hair tied up in some sort of pseudo 50�s bun fucking George Jetson�s wife shit happening, with these sunglasses hiding her assumed shit brown eyes. I say out loud to Charles to check her out, and mention she�s alone. Forgetting I had a walkman in my ears, and I was standing there alone with a red hooded sweatshirt, black Adidas shorts, bowling shoes, and an unfortunately long white cigarette hanging out of my mouth (the only cigarettes at the gas station tonight were a plethora of menthol�s, and Marlboro Light 100�s for some god forsaken reason). More George Castanza than George Clooney. I pull my left headset ear muff thingy off, and light the cigarette about a half of an inch in for the third time in a row, she flashes me a curious grin, and I put my hood up. Who told Buddy Miles to sing? A guy I worked with was at this fucking gig, New Years Eve at the Fillmore, Jimi Hendrix. He saw this fucking gig. Fuck him and his wife man.

�All of the lanes are taken up, can I take one of these lanes?�

the raven woman stood to my right with a pair of awful green and tan shoes.

�you can take the one two away from me, it�s all paid for actually�

�Well, I�ll pay for it�

�No, it�s all paid for�

�Who were you talking to before?�

�What?�

�When I walked in I heard you say something, it sounded pretty direct, like you were looking someone in the eye while you were saying it�

�Well��

�okay then�you�re Christian?�

�No, Charles�

�the guy just told me to check with Christian over there�

�Christian actually had to leave, do you want to bowl in the lane next to me instead of that other one?�

�it doesn�t matter, are you waiting for friends or something?�

�Generally�

(do you want to fuck me in the parking lot after this?)

�I�m Persephone�

�Your name is Persephone?�

�yes�

�get out of here, really?�

�yeah, why don�t you believe me?�

�I�ve never met one of you before, although I feel like I�ve dated a hundred of you�

(your eyes can�t be real)

�well Charles�I don�t know how to respond to that�

�Persephone, it was nice to meet you�

�Likewise�

What a place to meet my first Persephone, the bowling alley. Charles couldn�t wait for me to come back so he could tell me about her. This place is filled with the lowest people around. Not low as in �lower than me�, just some shady fucking people. This is why I always leave my hood up, put my headphones on and let the rest of me come out. I can hide in there. 3 lanes back is where I dwell. I hang in the bowling alley every few weeks I head down and hang out. This Persephone comes and introduces herself to me, and although she didn�t have anything interesting to say really, struck me as rather odd.

As I put my boots back on to go home, a large Irish looking man with whiskey colored hair, and blood red cheeks approached Persephone, and apologized for �taking so long talking to Jesse�.

Tonight the phone decided to shut the fuck up

I like my women to talk

I like the women that don�t shut the fuck up ever

I want them to tell me all about their day at work

I want to know about their family

I don�t care

Who wants to hang out with a girl who just sits there

Orders a garden salad

Asks quietly for a light

Laughs at my jokes ?

Eat a piece of fucking steak with me

Tell me about the woman in accounting and how she is ruining your life

I hate this taste in my mouth

I hate the dreams and how they linger outside my window and wait to attack

Now, for some reason I wish I had something to be depressed about.

If this isn�t the best thing in the world, then I don�t know what is�

before & after