everything is fine

"Well," he said. "I had an idea and you just totally shot it down." I sighed. I was suddenly exhausted. Too many similar, circular arguments in too short of a span of time. "You didn't give me an idea," I replied. "You just got upset and defensive." He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Fine," he said. "You can just be the only innovator. " "Was your idea communicating?" I asked. "Because that's not an idea. That's not a suggestion. That's something I'm actually trying to do with you and you keep fighting me." I had been so excited to play music with him , too. "Yeah," he said. "I'm in a band but..." "But what?" I asked. "I don't know," he replied. "They just aren't on my level. They're good but just not as good." "Is that frustrating?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. "I have to write out music

I make what I consider, given my vocal propensity to do the opposite, a marked effort to abstain from writing about particularly vulgar or insensitive things. It has been, I think, a good policy so far. Certain experiences, however, simply beg to be shared. Especially when they involve restroom visits. It was a routine procedure, using the urinal. One that really requires no thought. The restroom was empty, at least as far as I could tell. I didn't really expect anyone to be using it so late at night, though. It was a stuffy, mostly unventilated room. The air was especially thick, given the frequent visitation by Barton Springs swimmers. I approached the urinal and began. It began to dawn on me how exhausted I actually was. A long day after a long series of days. A man and his son entered and shuffled behind me, making their way to a stall. "Do you have to pee, daddy?" The boy asked. "Uh," the man said. "No, but I think you do?" They entered the stall