I am proud to work for the San Antonio Current, not least of which because we provide la gente with the kind of intellectually-rigorous, investigative and/or politically-charged journalism that an intelligent and socially-conscious readership deserves--nay, requires.
Could we lighten it up a little, bitches? Or, more to the point, may I? We can't all be about nucular shenanigans, candidate-analysis and earnest, serious-type shit.
Sometimes I like to talk about waxing, bad TV, sex toys, and gettin' drunk. Also, I hate the fucking didgeridoo with an unbridled passion and care not who knows it. I currently find myself in the grips of a hairdo-transitional-decision-phase of Kafkaesque proportions. Furthermore, I think the new king of Bhutan is foxy.
None of this matters much, but I'm planning to address all these issues and more in the coming...you know, years, or whatever.
An observation of little import what I"ve made here recently:
San Antonio is a heavily military town. You may already be aware of this. We got an army base called Fort Sam Houston , and, what, three Air Force bases--Lackland, Brooks, and Randolph. This means we have lots of soldiers and airmen about the place. These gentlemen tend to be youthful, very buff, and sport very short hair-dos. They are also neatly dressed and groomed, though sometimes they have tattoos.
There is a similar-looking coterie of menfolk in New York City, the city I recently left to come home, here. Specifically, you find these similarly buff and short-haired fellows in Chelsea. Usually these are not airmen or soldiers, but cute gay dudes.
This is confusing to me! Not in a deep existential way, you understand, but in a fast, first-glance-at-somebody-in-the-post-office kind of way. My brain undergoes a quick either-or.
Who'm I lookin' at here: Gym-Queen Top, or Staff Sergeant?
Who's with me?