Yesterday I ventured into the U District to meet Karen, Emma and Jeremy at the Seven Gables Theater to see Control Room. It was an eye-opening film considering the efforts of our government to demonize the network and the fact that I have no access to Al-Jazeera programming.
After the movie I detoured into a nearby Jack In The Box and stepped through the looking glass. This particular establishment seems to be a locus for mental dysfunction. There was the young latin man who was not deterred by the vigorous rejection he was receiving from a young latin woman. There was the freakishly skinny blonde man who tried, unsuccessfuly, to barter with the exasperated woman behind the counter. There was the visibly damaged homeless man wearing boxer shorts over his jeans who successfully got an order of fries for 70 cents, sat down by the window, and then alternately laughed at or cursed the air.
I stayed and ate my food despite the fact that I was as uncomfortable as I was conspicuous. And on the way home I saw a balding old man wearing women's shoes and carrying a purse.
He had tits.