The Dank
After a hectic afternoon of work and house, I rode into town to catch up with Tim, Cowan, James, Mark and Sam.
One of the pitfalls of getting old is realising young people don't recognise Simpson's references, which reveals you rely on them for many of your internal cognition.
Case in point, I visited the new Empire Pool Lounge tonight and while it was pretty similar to the old location on West Terrace it certainly seemed a lot brighter inside than the old one. They'd gotten rid of the dank, and half the clientele wouldn't have been thinking that in Carl Carlson's voice.
Another post-forty pitfall is potentially... Gout. Do I believe I have gout despite my good diet, limited alcohol, and healthy weight? Not really. Do I have unexplained ankle and big toe pain? Gout might actually be the best option. So, I've stopped drinking alcohol completely as it was the only thing on the entire gout list that I actually consumed. This made Empire feel even brighter, and I worried that I might never win a game of pool in my life again.
Shockingly, after a few terrible games I managed to actually rediscover some muscle memory and make some shots. I think the music got louder at the same time. Maybe I should buy a pool table for the new house.
I rode my bike home in the dark with my head torch on. Initially it felt a bit risky, but because I was sober I guess that riding at 10pm in February is no more dangerous than riding home from town at 6pm in June.
I also wore a high vis vest for extra responsible safety, the opposite of dank.
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.