I come in here and both comfy chairs in the corner are taken.

I won’t sit in the third chair. It’s gross. All ripped up. It’s probably fine; I’m just weird, that way. I don’t want my butt touching ripped up chair. Just thinking about it is making me want to stand up, right now.

The guys behind me are talking about celebrities and who’s dating whom, etc. Who the hell cares?!

I’m not really that interested in pop culture. Grayson (can’t remember what I named D’s friend) was playing pop music earlier? No clue who it was, never heard of her. My interest in music mostly ends at about 2003.

I do like Florence and the Machine and Imogen Heap, though. Kings of Leon. What I’ve heard of Imagine Dragons.

But even they’re all at least 10 years back, now.

Alternative is so, so dead. It’s a footnote. Kids like rap (I think?). Cardi B? Disgusting. Even she’s probably dated now, though. I have no clue. Desmond isn’t really into music, yet.

I can’t wait until he is.

But it probably won’t be any kind of way to bond with him. Because he’ll like the junk that’s big, now.

Kids wear the Nirvana t-shirts that are still mass-produced, but they know not what it means.

I hope one or the other of them eventually learn to appreciate good music…meaning my music. That could be anything from the late 1960s to, like, early millennium (but not boy bands).

I didn’t mean to write about music, again. Now I have to go.

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