Life is elusive

I came dangerously close to receding again in the shoadows this friday night but I decided to pull myself out of it and convince my brother and his girlfriend to go to a local bar overlooking the waterfront of RI. We had a few Sam Summers or Mojitos, chatted quietly at a plastic table and then decided mutually that our time would be better spent somewhere else, perhaps home. This is not before the crowds of moron meat-heads and chicken-heads invaded the bar and polluted the sounds of pleasant sea breeze and gentle waves crushing the rocks at the seashore with banter of the brainless, worthless drivel. And I know, because I was trying to listen. I was trying to listen to what these obnoxious fools could possibly be spewing besides their self-indulging aura.com

When leaving, my brother's girlfriend said to me, "This is really not my crowd."
I nodded and thought as I gazed back towards all the patrons gathered on the rooftop deck and could recall the few times I frequented this place as a college student and as a recent grad combing the ranks for potentials. And I realized that this wasn't my crowd anymore either. Image isn't everything.