Rings, Ships in the Fog, Popeye

Apple-and-mint smoke, a Thursday night, a hookah bar somewhere in Landsberg—The was there, demonstrating what her mouth could do. Rings first. Then something she called ships in the fog. Then a full committed Popeye impression. She’s apparently a regular and has used the time productively. Lisa and Fex were losing themselves on the dance floor.

Then Silvi arrived. Her signature move was leaning in close and whispering exactly who she thought was gay and ugly, which I found genuinely mean. What she did have going for her was a nice chest, painted up with considerable artistic commitment. I appreciated the craft. Then came Kathi, laughing at full volume about nothing in particular, dropping references to some newspaper piece she’d been in. She’d forgotten what the piece was actually about. We all had.

We tried to move on to a bar called the SonderBar—a name so creative it physically hurts—but half the group were under 18 and got stopped at the door. That’s where I ran into Andi from my old class. He’d lost a lot of weight and immediately wanted Silvi’s number. Motivations unclear. We walked back through Landsberg in the dark, Kathi announcing at intervals that it was spooky.

Kathi and Silvi jumped over my dicks on the way home, after which they were completely worn out. Understandable. I’m still wearing the sailor costume I put on earlier for reasons I’ve since forgotten, and it’s starting to itch badly. Probably the lice Silvi brought back from boarding school. A very nice evening, all things considered.