Things you learn in the pub at midnight

Thirst things first.

First things thirst; You will never use long division in your life. You will get drunk and you will buy rounds and you won’t give a fuck about dividing it equinely about the group. You just won’t.

Pint on the bar, a pound in the jukebox.

I can’t even remember which elements go into that pint of yours. I’ll bet ya one that you don’t care.

They told me Shakespeare is important but I read Clapton is god on a cubicle door and smoked ten cigarettes inside just for the kick.

Pint on the bar, a pound in the jukebox, and a shot.

E=mc² they said, but I found that E=MDMA, if you ask around enough. There’s a line on that toilet seat and your name’s in your nostrils. There is no conversation about blockades and new deals and wars in the fridge.

I still don’t wanna learn French.

Glass of water and a pint on the bar, a pound in the jukebox, and a shot for me and a shot for him.

That man over there, that one with the limp and the eye patch has just asked me to play Fly Half for his rugby team. He didn’t though.

That was just drama.

I know where I am within a half mile of consciousness. I know that the ground is hard and it’s getting harder.

Glass of water and a pint on the bar, a pound in the jukebox, and a shot for me and a shot for him and let’s make it doubles.

I know that I learnt these things to achieve letters.

I know that at that point you couldn’t even get a J and a D in the same class.

Glass of water and a Gin on the bar, a pound in the jukebox, and a shot for me and a shot for him and one for yourself.

We never did get around to discussing Middlemarch, or the postmodern elements of The French Lieutenants Woman. I guess we were talking about other things.

But at least we all agree on what is diegetic and non-diegetic.

Two glasses of water, a vodka and orange and a vodka and coke on the bar, two pounds in the jukebox, and shot for me and a shot for him and one for yourself and one for that guy that’s slumping.

Not doubles.

I’ve learnt that one pound turns into three songs on the jukebox. But two pounds into seven. I changed and put a twenty in and it felt like profit.

I’ve learnt that the best intentions are the ones that sting.

A vodka and a pint, an apple and a pint, one glass of water on the bar, all the change in the jukebox, and a shot for you and a shot for him. Where has that guy gone?

I’ve learnt that the world is a ride and that it’s easier to buy a round than it is to buy a ticket. I’ve learnt that it’s probably cheaper too.

I’ve learnt that there is hell to pay when you finish school. And that there is slightly less when you’re during.

I’m beginning to suspect that life is just a metaphor for detention.