The
Bitterness of Disillusioned Youth
“I’ve
always been attracted to the bitterness of disillusioned youth. There is something strangely alluring when I
see someone at the onset of their life dispossessed of all optimism and hope. They carry something so grotesquely honest
around with them. A realism that in an
older being would be written off as cynicism, but since they are so strikingly
young, their bitterness hits like an unexpected uppercut onto the very foundation
of our moral, spiritual and societal norms and I want, maybe even need, to
reach out and try to help them.” I
stopped talking and took a swig of my beer as Grasshopper, the barman,
approached. It wasn’t that I was hiding
the discussion from him, I just didn’t want to trouble the guy with such heavy thoughts,
especially on this subject.
“Geez,
did I interrupt? I always hate it when
the conversation stops just as I come into earshot- makes me feel
uncomfortable.” Grasshopper said.
I
looked at Lloyd, one of the only regulars that always seems to be around and up
for some banter. I gave him a look not
to say anything about heaviness of our conversation. As usual, Lloyd understood and didn’t say a
word. While I needed some advice and
wanted to strategize my next move, I didn’t want to trouble the Hopper. I had heard that he has been going through a
lot lately. Someone left a couple crates
of crappy LPs in the employee room that were getting in the way, the jukebox has
been on the fritz for the last couple months, and the last soap order fell through
the cracks and the bar was down to its last bag of the sudsy soap (among other tragedies). He could easily take any of these things
individually and deal with them, but all at once made it a crisis only slightly
less disturbing than the Democrats being completely swept in the upcoming
midterms. In short, Grasshopper was
struggling just as much as anyone else and I didn’t want to heap more crap on
the guy’s already overburdened shoulders.
“You
didn’t interrupt. We were just shooting
the breeze. Lloyd thinks I should get my
hair cut, but I’m thinking I will let it grow out for another month or so. You know, times are a bit lean these days, I’m
trying to cut back on my salon expenses.”
It was a beautiful piece of mental and verbal acrobatics to change the
subject gracefully and naturally, and it achieved its intended result. Who in the world could be interested in such
a topic?
Grasshopper
just shrugged and said, “Oh yes, you really need to rein in those salon
expenses. They’ll get you every time.”
Behind
this facade of jovial bar banter, my mind was still thinking about the
bitterness of the young vixen I had recently met who immediately lassoed my
heart with her dark view of the world.
She hated me of course, they all do, but I don’t get discouraged so easily
and the seed that was planted upon our first meeting was already taking
root.
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Interested
in another, more hearty, love story run amok?
Check this one out…all the way from Moscow:
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