Red Mosquito

Your son’s friends like you and worry about you but they don’t tell your son this. You point out where things used to be when you drive around town, but all the things you point out are somewhat shady and confusing. Was that place a dance club? A friend’s house? Were there parties there or just a drug dealer? You may have misplaced your David Foster Wallace books in the last move, or your spouse quietly donated them. You like walnuts now.

VinylGuy wrote:Everclear is the best of them

You remember what making out felt like when you were seventeen years old, and you’re writing it down so you always will.

Jorge wrote:John Moe posts here, 100% guaranteed

Pearl Jam
You have a lot to say about the little restaurant on the coast where you’ve actually become good friends with the owner. He let you come by in the afternoon once and learn about cooking shellfish. You shake your head at the word “crypto.” Four of your friends are named Josh, and one dead friend is named Josh. You’re glad you don’t work in “business development” anymore. You wake up screaming sometimes.

Maybe there could be parents-only events at night, like at the brewpub, like a low-key fundraiser—I mean, hell, maybe your band can play.

spike wrote:This is probably the saddest one.

Maybe there could be parents-only events at night, like at the brewpub, like a low-key fundraiser—I mean, hell, maybe your band can play.

You’re fine working in software development. You’ve been there a long time, your friends are there, no one else in the company knows what the fuck you do all the time, but that’s because their brains can’t handle it. You don’t even like IPAs anymore. Your daughter moved back home.

Your sister had friends named Connie and Tracy that your dad called “Bonnie and Stacy,” and everyone in the house got audibly mad at him about it.

tragabigzanda wrote:Same. McSweeney’s is garbage.